gie the nag a feed, that the young Laird might ken his mettle,'
Bertram, taking the clergyman by the arm, walked into the vault
and shut the door immediately after them. He gazed in silence for
some minutes upon the body of Meg Merrilies, as it lay before him,
with the features sharpened by death, yet still retaining the
stern and energetic character which had maintained in life her
superiority as the wild chieftainess of the lawless people amongst
whom she was born. The young soldier dried the tears which
involuntarily rose on viewing this wreck of one who might be said
to have died a victim to her fidelity to his person and family. He
then took the clergyman's hand and asked solemnly if she appeared
able to give that attention to his devotions which befitted a
departing person.

'My dear sir,' said the good minister, 'I trust this poor woman
had remaining sense to feel and join in the import of my prayers.
But let us humbly hope we are judged of by our opportunities of
religious and moral instruction. In some degree she might be
considered as an uninstructed heathen, even in the bosom of a
Christian country; and let us remember that the errors and vices
of an ignorant life were balanced by instances of disinterested
attachment, amounting almost to heroism. To HIM who can alone
weigh our crimes and errors against our efforts towards virtue we
consign her with awe, but not without hope.'

'May I request,' said Bertram, 'that you will see every decent
solemnity attended to in behalf of this poor woman? I have some
property belonging to her in my hands; at all events I will be
answerable for the expense. You will hear of me at Woodbourne.'