"
"You mean," said Claverhouse, looking at a memorandum book, "one
Hatherick--Hedderick--or--or--Headrigg. Ay, Cuthbert, or Cuddie
Headrigg--here I have him. O, never fear him, if he will be but
tractable. The ladies of Tillietudlem made interest with me on his
account some time ago. He is to marry their waiting-maid, I think. He
will be allowed to slip off easy, unless his obstinacy spoils his good
fortune."
"He has no ambition to be a martyr, I believe," said Morton.
"'Tis the better for him," said Claverhouse. "But, besides, although the
fellow had more to answer for, I should stand his friend, for the sake of
the blundering gallantry which threw him into the midst of our ranks last
night, when seeking assistance for you. I never desert any man who trusts
me with such implicit confidence. But, to deal sincerely with you, he has
been long in our eye.--Here, Halliday; bring me up the black book."
The sergeant, having committed to his commander this ominous record of
the disaffected, which was arranged in alphabetical order, Claverhouse,
turning over the leaves as he rode on, began to read names as they
occurred.
"Gumblegumption, a minister, aged 50, indulged, close, sly, and so
forth--Pooh! pooh!--He--He--I have him here--Heathercat; outlawed--a
preacher--a zealous Cameronian--keeps a conventicle among the Campsie
hills--Tush!--O, here is Headrigg--Cuthbert; his mother a bitter
puritan--himself a simple fellow--like to be forward in action, but of
no genius for plots--more for the hand than the head, and might be drawn
to the right side, but for his attachment to"--(Here Claverhouse looked
at Morton, and then shut the book and changed his tone.
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