‘I kenna how he may like it now,’ answered another of the tea-drinkers; ’but the day has been when Ellangowan wad hae liked as little to see his daughter taking up with their son.’

‘Ay, has been,’ answered the first, with somewhat of emphasis.

‘I am sure, neighbour Ovens,’ said the hostess, ’the Hazlewoods of Hazlewood, though they are a very gude auld family in the county, never thought, till within these twa score o’ years, of evening themselves till the Ellangowans.  Wow, woman, the Bertrams of Ellangowan are the auld Dingawaies lang syne.  There is a sang about ane o’ them marrying a daughter of the King of Man; it begins—­

     Blythe Bertram’s ta’en him ower the faem,
     To wed a wife, and bring her hame—­

I daur say Mr. Skreigh can sing us the ballant.’

‘Gudewife,’ said Skreigh, gathering up his mouth, and sipping his tiff of brandy punch with great solemnity, ’our talents were gien us to other use than to sing daft auld sangs sae near the Sabbath day.’

’Hout fie, Mr. Skreigh; I’se warrant I hae heard you sing a blythe sang on Saturday at e’en before now.  But as for the chaise, Deacon, it hasna been out of the coach-house since Mrs. Bertram died, that’s sixteen or seventeen years sin syne.  Jock Jabos is away wi’ a chaise of mine for them; I wonder he’s no come back.  It’s pit mirk; but there’s no an ill turn on the road but twa, and the brigg ower Warroch burn is safe eneugh, if he haud to the right side.  But then there’s Heavieside Brae, that’s just a murder for post-cattle; but Jock kens the road brawly.’

A loud rapping was heard at the door.

’That’s no them.  I dinna hear the wheels.  Grizzel, ye limmer, gang to the door.’

‘It’s a single gentleman,’ whined out Grizzel; ’maun I take him into the parlour?’

’Foul be in your feet, then; it’ll be some English rider.  Coming without a servant at this time o’ night!  Has the hostler ta’en the horse?  Ye may light a spunk o’ fire in the red room.’

‘I wish, ma’am,’ said the traveller, entering the kitchen, ’you would give me leave to warm myself here, for the night is very cold.’

His appearance, voice, and manner produced an instantaneous effect in his favour.  He was a handsome, tall, thin figure, dressed in black, as appeared when he laid aside his riding-coat; his age might be between forty and fifty; his cast of features grave and interesting, and his air somewhat military.  Every point of his appearance and address bespoke the gentleman.  Long habit had given Mrs. Mac-Candlish an acute tact in ascertaining the quality of her visitors, and proportioning her reception accordingly:—­

     To every guest the appropriate speech was made,
     And every duty with distinction paid;
     Respectful, easy, pleasant, or polite—­
     ‘Your honour’s servant!’ ‘Mister Smith, good-night.’

On the present occasion she was low in her courtesy and profuse in her apologies.  The stranger begged his horse might be attended to:  she went out herself to school the hostler.