“Fiends—­bloody, brutal, heartless fiends—­are ye all!  And is this your work, ye sons of the wicked and the accursed one?  What! could not one content ye?  Was not the boy enough to sacrifice on your accursed temple to Moloch, but ye must imbrue your hands in the blood of a weak, an infirm, a helpless woman!  Oh, may the God of the Covenant,” added he, bending reverently down upon his knees, and looking towards heaven, “may the God of Jacob forgive me for cursing ye!  And, thou man of blood” (addressing Clavers personally), “think ye not that the blood of Brown, and of my darling child, and my beloved wife—­think ye not, wot ye not, that their blood, and the blood of the thousand saints which ye have shed, will yet be required, ay, fearfully required, even to the last drop, by an avenging God, at your hands?”

Having uttered these words with great and awful energy, he was on the point of drawing his sword, concealed under the flap of his coat, and of selling his life as dearly as possible, when Mrs. Harkness, who had now recovered her senses, rushed into his arms, exclaiming—­

“Oh Thomas, Thomas, what is this ye hae done?  Oh, beware, beware!—­I am yet alive and unskaithed.  God has shut the mouths of the lions; they have not been permitted to hurt me.  And our puir boy, too, moves his head, and gives token of life.  But you, you, my dear, dear, infatuated husband—­oh, into what hands have ye fallen, and to what a death are ye now reserved!”

“Unloose the band,” vociferated Clavers; “make fast your prisoner’s hands, and, in the devil’s name, let us have done with this drivelling!”

There was a small public-house at this time at Closeburn mill, and into this Clavers and his party went for refreshment; whilst an adjoining barn, upon which a guard was set, served to secure the prisoner.  No sooner was Mr. Harkness left alone, and in the dark—­for it was now nightfall—­than he began to think of some means or other of effecting his escape.  The barn was happily known to him; and he recollected that, though the greater proportion of the gable was built of stone and lime, yet that a small part towards the top, as was sometimes the case in these days, was constructed of turf, and that, should he effect an opening through the soft material, he might drop with safety upon the top of a peat-stack, and thus effect his escape to Creechope Linn, with every pass and cave of which he was intimately acquainted.  In a word, his escape was effected in this manner; and though the alarm was immediately given, and large stones rolled over the precipices of the adjoining linn, he was safely ensconced in darkness, and under the covert of a projecting rock; and ultimately (for, in the course of a few days, King William and liberty were the order of the day) he returned to his wife and his family, there to enjoy for many years that happiness which the possession of a conscience void of offence towards God and towards man is sure to impart.  The brother, however, of this more favoured individual was not so fortunate, as may be gathered from Wodrow, and the “Cloud of Witnesses;” for he was executed ere the day of deliverance, at the Gallowlee, and his most pathetic and eloquent address is still extant.