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A Legend of Montrose-Part39_WALTER SCOTT(1771-1832)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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horrors. It was thick spread with dead and wounded, and the

spoilers were busy tearing the clothes from the victims of war



and feudalambition, with as much indifference as if they had not

been of the same species, and themselves exposed, perhaps to-



morrow, to the same fate.

"Does the sight please you?" said M'Aulay.



"It is hideous!" said Annot, covering her eyes with her hands;

"how can you bid me look upon it?"



"You must be inured to it," said he, "if you remain with this

destined host--you will soon have to search such a field for my



brother's corpse--for Menteith's--for mine---but that will be a

more indifferent task--You do not love me!"



"This is the first time you have taxed me with unkindness," said

Annot, weeping. "You are my brother--my preserver--my protector



--and can I then BUT love you?--But your hour of darkness is

approaching, let me fetch my harp--"



"Remain," said Allan, still holding her fast; "be my visions from

heaven or hell, or from the middle sphere of disembodied spirits



--or be they, as the Saxons hold, but the delusions of an over-

heated fancy, they do not now influence me; I speak the language



of the natural, of the visible world.--You love not me, Annot--

you love Menteith--by him you are beloved again, and Allan is no



more to you than one of the corpses which encumber yonder heath."

It cannot be supposed that this strange speech conveyed any new



information to her who was thus addressed. No woman ever lived

who could not, in the same circumstances, have discerned long



since the state of her lover's mind. But by thus suddenly

tearing off the veil, thin as it was, Allan prepared her to



expect consequences violent in proportion to the enthusiasm of

his character. She made an effort to repel the charge he had



stated.

"You forget," she said, "your own worth and nobleness when you



insult so very helpless a being, and one whom fate has thrown so

totally into your power. You know who and what I am, and how



impossible it is that Menteith or you can use language of

affection to me, beyond that of friendship. You know from what



unhappy race I have too probably derived my existence."

"I will not believe it," said Allan, impetuously; "never flowed



crystal drop from a polluted spring."

"Yet the very doubt," pleaded Annot, "should make you forbear to



use this language to me."

"I know," said M'Aulay, "it places a bar between us--but I know



also that it divides you not so inseparably from Menteith.--Hear

me, my beloved Annot!--leave this scene of terrors and danger--go



with me to Kintail--I will place you in the house of the noble

Lady of Seaforth--or you shall be removed in safety to Icolmkill,



where some women yet devote themselves to the worship of God,

after the custom of our ancestors."



"You consider not what you ask of me," replied Annot; "to

undertake such a journey under your sole guardianship, were to



show me less scrupulous than maiden ought. I will remain here,

Allan--here under the protection of the noble Montrose; and when



his motions next approach the Lowlands, I will contrive some

proper means to relieve you of one, who has, she knows not how,



become an object of dislike to you."

Allan stood as if uncertain whether to give way to sympathy with



her distress, or to anger at her resistance.

"Annot," he said, "you know too well how little your words apply



to my feelings towards you--but you avail yourself of your power,

and you rejoice in my departure, as removing a spy upon your



intercourse with Menteith. But beware both of you," he added, in

a stern tone; "for when was it ever heard that an injury was



offered to Allan M'Aulay, for which he exacted not tenfold

vengeance?"



So saying, he pressed her arm forcibly, pulled the bonnet over

his brows, and strode out of the apartment.






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