The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

TIEE ANTIQUARY. 163
"Less than I might have had - but mair, O far mair, than wad sink the
stoutest brig e'er sailed out o' Fairport harbour! —Didna somebody say
yestreen - at least sae it is borne in on my mind, but auld folk hae weak
fancies -did not somebody say that Joscelind, Countess of Glenallan, was
departed frae life?"
"They said the truth whaever said it," answered old Edie; "she was
buried yestreen by torch-light at St. Ruth's, and I, like a fule, gat a gliff
wi' seeing the lights and the riders."
" It was their fashion since the days of the Great Earl that was killed at
arlaw;-they did it to show scorn that they should die and be buried like
other mortals: the wives o' the house of Glenallan wailed nae wail for the
husband, nor the sister for the brother. -But is she e'en ca'd to the lang
account?"
" As sure," answered Edie, " as we maun a' abide it."
" Then I'll unlade my mind, come o't what will."
This she spoke with more alacrity than usually attended her expressions,
and accompanied her words with an attitude of the hand, as if throwing
something from her. She then raised up her form, once tall, and still
retaining the appearance of having been so, though bent with age and rheumatism, and stood before the beggar like a mummy animated by some wandering spirit into a temporary resurrection. Her light-blue eyes wandered
to and fro, as if she occasionally forgot and again remembered the purpose
for which her long and withered hand was searching among the miscellaneous contents of an ample old-fashioned pocket. At length she pulled out
a small chip-box, and opening it, took out a handsome ring, in which was
set a braid of hair, composed of two different colours, black and light brown,
twined together, encircled with brilliants of considerable value.
"Gudeman," she said to Ochiltree, "as ye wad e'er deserve mercy, ye
maun gang my errand to the house of Glenallan, and ask for the Earl."
" The Earl of Glenallan, cummer! ou, he winna see ony o' the gentles o'
the country, and what likelihood is there that he wad see the like o' an auld
gaberlunzie?"
" Gang your ways and try;-and tell him that Elspeth o' the Craigburnfoot - he'll mind me best by that name - maun see him or she be relieved
fiae her lang pilgrimage, and that she sends him that ring in token of the
business she wad speak o'."
Ochiltree looked on the ring with some admiration of its apparent value,
and then carefully replacing it in the box, and wrapping it in an old ragged
handkerchief, he deposited the token in his bosom.
" Weel, gudewife," he said, " I'se do your bidding, or it's no be my fault.
But surely there was never sic a braw propine as this sent to a yerl by an
auld fish-wife, and through the hands of a gaberlunzie beggar."
With this reflection, Edie took up his pike-staff, put on his broad-brimmed
bonnet, and set forth upon his pilgrimage. The old woman remained for
some time standing in a fixed posture, her eyes directed to the door through
which her ambassador had departed. The appearance of excitation, which
the conversation had occasioned, gradually left her features; she sunk down
upon her accustomed seat, and resumed her mechanical labour of the distaff
and spindle, with her wonted air of apathy.
Edie Ochiltree meanwhile advanced on his journey. The distance to
Glenallan was ten miles, a march which the old soldier accomplished in
about four hours. With the curiosity belonging to his idle trade and animated character, he tortured himself the whole way to consider what could
be the meaning of this mysterious errand with which he was intrusted, or
what connexion the proud, wealthy, and powerful Earl of Glenallan could
have with the crimes or penitence of an old doting woman, whose rank in
life did not greatly exceed that of her messenger. He endeavoured to call
to memory all that he had ever known or heard of the Glenallan family,