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.

80 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
rupted Margaret. "I 9must speak, then. —There dined with us a nobleNan -
"A nobleman! the maiden's mad," said Dame Ursula.
"There dined with us, I say!" continued Margaret, without regarding the
interruption, " a nobleman - a Scottish nobleman."
"Now Our Lady keep her i" said the confidant, " she is quite frantic! —
heard ever any one of a watchmaker's daughter falling in love with a nobleman- and a Scots nobleman, to make the matter complete, who are all as
proud as Lucifer, and as poor as Job? - A Scots nobleman, quotha? I had
as lief you told me of a Jew pedlar. I would have you think how all this
is to end, pretty one, before you jump in the dark."
"That is nothing to you, Ursula —it is your assistance," said Mistress
M[argaret, " and not your advice, that I am desirous to have, and you know
I can make it worth your while."
"Oh, it is not for the sake of lucre, Mistress Margaret," answered the
obliging dame; " but truly I would have you listen to some advice -bethink
you of your own condition."
" My father's calling is mechanical," said Margaret, " but our blood is not
so. I have heard my father say that we are descended, at a distance indeed,
from the great Earls of Dalwolsey."*
" Ay, ay," said Dame Ursula; " even so - I never knew a Scot of you but
was descended, as ye call it, from some great house or other; and a piteous
descent it often is -and as for the distance you speak of, it is so great as to
put you out of sight of each other. Yet do not toss your pretty head so
scornfully, but tell me the name of this lordly northern gallant, and we will
try what can be done in the matter."
" It is Lord G-lenvarloch, whom they call Lord Nigel Olifaunt," said Margaret, in a low voice, and turning away to hide her blushes.
"Marry, Heaven forefend!" exclaimed Dame Suddlechop; "this is the
very devil, and something worse!"
"How mean you?" said the damsel, surprised at the vivacity of her exclamation.
" Why, know ye not," said the dame, "what powerful enemies he has at
Court? know ye not-But blisters on my tongue, it runs too fast for my
wit-enough to say, that you had better make your bridal-bed under a
falling house, than think of young Glenvarloch."
" He is unfortunate, then?" said Margaret; "I knew it - I divined itthere was sorrow in his voice when he said even what was gay - there was
a touch of misfortune in his melancholy smile - he had not thus clung to
my thoughts had I seen him in all the midday glare of prosperity."
"Romances have cracked her brain!" said Dame Ursula; "she is a
castaway girl-utterly distraught-loves a Scots lord-and likes him the
better for being unfortunate! Well, mistress, I am sorry this is a matter I cannot aid you in-it goes against my conscience, and it is an affair
above my condition, and beyond my. management;-but I will keep your
counsel."
" You will not be so base as to desert me, after having drawn my secret
from me?" said Margaret, indignantly; "if you do, I know how to have
my revenge; and if you do not, I will reward you well. Remember, the
house your husband dwells in is my father's property."
"I remember it but too well, Mistress Margaret," said Ursula, after a
moment's reflection, "and I would serve you in any thing in my condition;
but to meddle with such high matters-I shall never forget poor Mistress
* The head of the ancient and distinguished house of Ramsav, and to whom, as their chief, the individuals
ot that name look as their origin and source of gentry. Allan Ramsay, the pastoral poet, in the same manner, makes
"Dalhousie of an auld descent,
My chief, my stoup, my ornament."