lint,' and
'Dorothy, spread the plaster;' but now it is nothing but nonsense, and
a lie, and impossibility, that can come out of Dorothy's mouth.
Impossible! Does auld Simon think that Harry Smith's head was as hard as
his stithy, and a haill clan of Highlandmen dinging at him?"

Here she was interrupted by a figure like an angel, who came wandering
by her with wild eye, cheek deadly pale, hair dishevelled, and an
apparent want of consciousness, which terrified the old woman out of her
discontented humour.

"Our Lady bless my bairn!" said she. "What look you sae wild for?"

"Did you not say some one was dead?" said Catharine, with a frightful
uncertainty of utterance, as if her organs of speech and hearing served
her but imperfectly.

"Dead, hinny! Ay--ay, dead eneugh; ye'll no hae him to gloom at ony
mair."

"Dead!" repeated Catharine, still with the same uncertainty of voice and
manner. "Dead--slain--and by Highlanders?"

"I'se warrant by Highlanders, the lawless loons. Wha is it else that
kills maist of the folks about, unless now and than when the burghers
take a tirrivie, and kill ane another, or whiles that the knights and
nobles shed blood? But I'se uphauld it's been the Highlandmen this bout.
The man was no in Perth, laird or loon, durst have faced Henry Smith
man to man. There's been sair odds against him; ye'll see that when it's
looked into."

"Highlanders!" repeated Catharine, as if haunted by some idea which
troubled her senses. "Highlanders! Oh, Conachar--Conachar!"

"Indeed, and I dare say you have lighted on the very man, Catharine.
They quarrelled, as you saw, on the St. Valentine's Even, and had a
warstle. A Highlandman has a long memory for the like of that. Gie him
a cuff at Martinmas, and his cheek will be tingling at Whitsunday. But
what could have brought down the lang legged loons to do their bloody
wark within burgh?"

"Woe's me, it was I," said Catharine--"it was I brought the Highlanders
down--I that sent for Conachar--ay, they have lain in wait--but it was I
that brought them within reach of their prey. But I will see with my own
eyes--and then--something we will do. Say to my father I will be back
anon."

"Are ye distraught, lassie?" shouted Dorothy, as Catharine made past her
towards the street door. "You would not gang into the street with the
hair hanging down your haffets in that guise, and you kenn'd for the
Fair Maid of Perth? Mass, but she's out in the street, come o't w