The Heart of Mid-Lothian - Penn State University

Madge, who was walking very fast, stopped at this
question, and looked at Jeanie with a sudden and scrutinising
glance, that seemed to indicate complete acquaintance
with her purpose. “Aha, lass!” she exclaimed,
“are ye gaun to guide us that gate?—Ye’ll be for making
your heels save your head, I am judging.”
Jeanie hesitated for a moment, on hearing her companion
thus express herself, whether she had not better
take the hint, and try to outstrip and get rid of her. But
she knew not in which direction to fly; she was by no
means sure that she would prove the swiftest, and perfectly
conscious that in the event of her being pursued
and overtaken, she would be inferior to the madwoman
in strength. She therefore gave up thoughts for the
present of attempting to escape in that manner, and,
saying a few words to allay Madge’s suspicions, she followed
in anxious apprehension the wayward path by
which her guide thought proper to lead her. Madge, infirm
of purpose, and easily reconciled to the present
scene, whatever it was, began soon to talk with her usual
diffuseness of ideas.
Sir Walter Scott
371
“It’s a dainty thing to be in the woods on a fine morning
like this! I like it far better than the town, for there
isna a wheen duddie bairns to be crying after ane, as if
ane were a warld’s wonder, just because ane maybe is a
thought bonnier and better put-on than their
neighbours—though, Jeanie, ye suld never be proud o’
braw claiths, or beauty neither—wae’s me! they’re but
a snare—I ance thought better o’them, and what came
o’t?”
“Are ye sure ye ken the way ye are taking us?” said
Jeanie, who began to imagine that she was getting deeper
into the woods and more remote from the high-road.
“Do I ken the road?—Wasna I mony a day living here,
and what for shouldna I ken the road? I might hae forgotten,
too, for it was afore my accident; but there are
some things ane can never forget, let them try it as
muckle as they like.”
By this time they had gained the deepest part of a
patch of woodland. The trees were a little separated from
each other, and at the foot of one of them, a beautiful
poplar, was a hillock of moss, such as the poet of