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.

OLD MORTALITY. 429
cumstance, my good friend, and trust to my honour to acknowledge your
civility in keeping the secret. If you overheard our conversation, you must
have observed that we did not accept of, or enter into, the hasty proposal
made by this good-natured girl."
" Oh, devilish good-natured, to be sure," said attlliday. "As for the rest,
I guess how it is, and I scorn to bear malice, or tell tales, as much as another; but no thanks to that little jilting devil, Jenny Dennison, who de.
serves a tight skelping for trying to lead an honest lad into a scrape, just
because he was so silly as to like her good-for-little chit face."
Jenny had no better means of justification than the last apology to which
her sex trust, and usually not in vain; she pressed her handkerchief to her
face, sobbed with great vehemence, and either wept, or managed, as Halliday might have said, to go through the motions wonderfully well.
"And now," continued the soldier, somewhat mollified,'.'if you have
anything to say, say it in two minutes, and let me see your backs turned;
for if Bothwell take it into his drunken head to make the rounds half an
hour too soon, it will be a black business to us all."
"Farewell, Edith," whispered Morton, assuming a firmness he was far
firom possessing; " do not remain here-leave me to my fate-it cannot be
beyond endurance since you are interested in it.-Good-night, good-night!
-Do not remain here till you are discovered."
Thus saying, he resigned her to her attendant, by whom she was quietly
led and partly supported out of the apartment.
"Every one has his taste, to be sure," said Halliday; "but d-n me if I
would have vexed so sweet a girl as that is, for all the whigs that ever swore
the Covenant."'
When Edith had regained her apartment, she gave way to a burst of
grief which alarmed Jenny Dennison, who hastened to administer such
scraps of consolation as occurred to her.
" Dinna vex yoursell sae muckle, Miss Edith," said that faithful attendant; " wha kens what may happen to help young Milnwood? He's a brave
lad, and a bonny, and a gentleman of a. good fortune, and they winna string
the like o' him up as they do the puir whig bodies that they catch in the
muirs, like straps o' onions. Maybe his uncle will bring him aff, or maybe
your ain grand-uncle will speak a gude word for him-he's weel acquentwi' a' the red-coat gentlemen."
" You are right, Jenny-you are right," said Edith, recovering herself
from the stupor into which she had sunk; "this is no time for despair, but
for exertion. You must find some one to ride this very night to my uncle's
with a letter."
" To Charnwood, madam? It's unco late, and it's sax miles an' a bittock
doun the water. I doubt if we can find man and horse the night, mair especially as they hae mounted a sentinel before the gate. Puir Cuddiel
he's gane, puir fallow, that wad hae dune aught in the warld I bade him,
and ne'er asked a reason-an' I've had nae time to draw up wi' the new
pleugh-lad yet; forby that, they say he's gaun to be married to Meg Murdieson, ill-faur'd cuttie as she is."
"You must find some one to go, Jenny; life and death depend upon it."
"I wad gang nzysell, nay leddy, for I could creep out at the window o'
the pantry, and speel down by the auld yew-tree weel eneugh-I hae played
that trick ere now. But the road's unco wild, and sac mony red-coats
about, forby the whigs, that are no muckle better (the young lads o' them)
if they meet a fraiim body their lane in the muirs. I wadna stand for the
walk-I can walk ten miles by moonlight weel eneugh."
" Is there no one you can think of, that, for money or favour, would serve
me so far?" asked Edith, in great anxiety.
"I dinna ken," said Jenny, after a moment's consideration, "unless it be
Guse Gibbie; and he'll maybe no ken the way, though it's no sace difficult