“No,” he exclaimed, as he thus voluntarily deprived himself of the means of gratifying his rage; “not again—­not again!”

Hobbie retreated a step or two in great surprise, discomposure, and disdain, at having been placed in such danger by an object apparently so contemptible.

“The deil’s in the body for strength and bitterness!” were the first words that escaped him, which he followed up with an apology for the accident that had given rise to their disagreement.  “I am no justifying Killbuck a’thegither neither, and I am sure it is as vexing to me as to you, Elshie, that the mischance should hae happened; but I’ll send you twa goats and twa fat gimmers, man, to make a’ straight again.  A wise man like you shouldna bear malice against a poor dumb thing; ye see that a goat’s like first-cousin to a deer, sae he acted but according to his nature after a’.  Had it been a pet-lamb, there wad hae been mair to be said.  Ye suld keep sheep, Elshie, and no goats, where there’s sae mony deerhounds about—­but I’ll send ye baith.”

“Wretch!” said the Hermit, “your cruelty has destroyed one of the only creatures in existence that would look on me with kindness!”

“Dear Elshie,” answered Hobbie, “I’m wae ye suld hae cause to say sae; I’m sure it wasna wi’ my will.  And yet, it’s true, I should hae minded your goats, and coupled up the dogs.  I’m sure I would rather they had worried the primest wether in my faulds.—­Come, man, forget and forgie.  I’m e’en as vexed as ye can be—­But I am a bridegroom, ye see, and that puts a’ things out o’ my head, I think.  There’s the marriage-dinner, or gude part o’t, that my twa brithers are bringing on a sled round by the Riders’ Slack, three goodly bucks as ever ran on Dallomlea, as the sang says; they couldna come the straight road for the saft grund.  I wad send ye a bit venison, but ye wadna take it weel maybe, for Killbuck catched it.”

During this long speech, in which the good-natured Borderer endeavoured to propitiate the offended Dwarf by every argument he could think of, he heard him with his eyes bent on the ground, as if in the deepest meditation, and at length broke forth—­“Nature?—­yes! it is indeed in the usual beaten path of Nature.  The strong gripe and throttle the weak; the rich depress and despoil the needy; the happy (those who are idiots enough to think themselves happy) insult the misery and diminish the consolation of the wretched.—­Go hence, thou who hast contrived to give an additional pang to the most miserable of human beings—­thou who hast deprived me of what I half considered as a source of comfort.  Go hence, and enjoy the happiness prepared for thee at home!”

“Never stir,” said Hobbie, “if I wadna take you wi’ me, man, if ye wad but say it wad divert ye to be at the bridal on Monday.  There will be a hundred strapping Elliots to ride the brouze—­the like’s no been seen sin’ the days of auld Martin of the Preakin-tower—­I wad send the sled for ye wi’ a canny powny.”