And what am I to do then?'

'Do?' answered the gipsy; 'die like a man, or be hanged like a
dog!'

'Hanged, ye hag of Satan! The hemp's not sown that shall hang me.'

'It's sown, and it's grown, and it's heckled, and it's twisted.
Did I not tell ye, when ye wad take away the boy Harry Bertram, in
spite of my prayers,--did I not say he would come back when he had
dree'd his weird in foreign land till his twenty-first year? Did I
not say the auld fire would burn down to a spark, but wad kindle
again?'

'Well, mother, you did say so,' said Hatteraick, in a tone that
had something of despair in its accents; 'and, donner and blitzen!
I believe you spoke the truth. That younker of Ellangowan has been
a rock ahead to me all my life! And now, with Glossin's cursed
contrivance, my crew have been cut off, my boats destroyed, and I
daresay the lugger's taken; there were not men enough left on
board to work her, far less to fight her--a dredge-boat might have
taken her. And what will the owners say? Hagel and sturm! I shall
never dare go back again to Flushing.'

'You'll never need,' said the gipsy.

'What are you doing there,' said her companion; 'and what makes
you say that?'

During this dialogue Meg was heaping some flax loosely together.