Little recking, and indeed scarce knowing, where she was wandering, chance directed her into the walk beneath the Briery Bank, as it was called. A brook, which in former days had supplied the castle-moat with water, here descended through a narrow dell, up which Miss Wardour's taste had directed a natural path, which was rendered neat and easy of ascent, without the air of being formally made and preserved. It suited well the character of the little glen, which was overhung with thickets and underwood, chiefly of larch and hazel, intermixed with the usual varieties of the thorn and brier. In this walk had passed that scene of explanation between Miss Wardour and Lovel which was overheard by old Edie Ochiltree. With a heart softened by the distress which approached her family, Miss Wardour now recalled every word and argument which Lovel had urged in support of his suit, and could not help confessing to herself, it was no small subject of pride to have inspired a young man of his talents with a passion so strong and disinterested. That he should have left the pursuit of a profession in which he was said to be rapidly rising, to bury himself in a disagreeable place like Fairport, and brood over an unrequited passion, might be ridiculed by others as romantic, but was naturally forgiven as an excess of affection by the person who was the object of his attachment. Had he possessed an independence, however moderate, or ascertained a clear and undisputed claim to the rank in society he was well qualified to adorn, she might now have had it in her power to offer her father, during his misfortunes, an asylum in an establishment of her own. These thoughts, so favourable to the absent lover, crowded in, one after the other, with such a minute recapitulation of his words, looks, and actions, as plainly intimated that his former repulse had been dictated rather by duty than inclination. Isabella was musing alternately upon this subject, and upon that of her father's misfortunes, when, as the path winded round a little hillock covered with brushwood, the old Blue-Gown suddenly met her. With an air as if he had something important and mysterious to communicate, he doffed his bonnet, and assumed the cautious step and voice of one who would not willingly be overheard. "I hae been wishing muckle to meet wi' your leddyship--for ye ken I darena come to the house for Dousterswivel." "I heard indeed," said Miss Wardour, dropping an alms into the bonnet--"I heard that you had done a very foolish, if not a very bad thing, Edie-- and I was sorry to hear it." "Hout, my bonny leddy--fulish? A' the world's fules--and how should auld Edie Ochiltree be aye wise?--And for the evil--let them wha deal wi' Dousterswivel tell whether he gat a grain mair than his deserts." "That may be true, Edie, and yet," said Miss Wardour, "you may have been very wrong." "Weel, weel, we'se no dispute that e'ennow--it's about yoursell I'm gaun to speak. Div ye ken what's hanging ower the house of Knockwinnock?" "Great distress, I fear, Edie," answered Miss Wardour; "but I am surprised it is already so public." "Public!--Sweepclean, the messenger, will be there the day wi' a' his tackle. I ken it frae ane o' his concurrents, as they ca' them, that's warned to meet him; and they'll be about their wark belyve; whare they clip, there needs nae kame--they shear close eneugh." "Are you sure this bad hour, Edie, is so very near?--come, I know, it will." "It's e'en as I tell you, leddy. But dinna be cast down--there's a heaven ower your head here, as weel as in that fearful night atween the Ballyburghness and the Halket-head. D'ye think He, wha rebuked the waters, canna protect you against the wrath of men, though they be armed with human authority?" "It is indeed all we have to trust to." "Ye dinna ken--ye dinna ken: when the night's darkest, the dawn's nearest. If I had a gude horse, or could ride him when I had him, I reckon there wad be help yet. I trusted to hae gotten a cast wi' the Royal Charlotte, but she's coupit yonder, it's like, at Kittlebrig. There was a young gentleman on the box, and he behuved to drive; and Tam Sang, that suld hae mair sense, he behuved to let him, and the daft callant couldna tak the turn at the corner o' the brig; and od! he took the curbstane, and he's whomled her as I wad whomle a toom bicker--it was a luck I hadna gotten on the tap o' her. Sae I came down atween hope and despair, to see if ye wad send me on." "And, Edie--where would ye go?" said the young lady. "To Tannonburgh, my leddy" (which was the first stage from Fairport, but a good deal nearer to Knockwinnock), "and that without delay--it's a' on your ain business." "Our business, Edie? Alas! I give you all credit for your good meaning; but"-- "There's nae _buts_ about it, my leddy, for gang I maun," said the persevering Blue-Gown. "But what is it that you would do at Tannonburgh?--or how can your going there benefit my father's affairs?" "Indeed, my sweet leddy," said the gaberlunzie, "ye maun just trust that bit secret to auld Edie's grey pow, and ask nae questions about it. Certainly if I wad hae wared my life for you yon night, I can hae nae reason to play an ill pliskie t'ye in the day o' your distress.". . . . . . .