oken.

"It is the custom in summer," said Lord Menteith, without attending
to his apology, "to send the cows to the upland pastures to have the
benefit of the grass; and the maids of the village, and of the family,
go there to milk them in the morning and evening. While thus employed,
the females of this family, to their great terror, perceived that their
motions were watched at a distance by a pale, thin, meagre figure,
bearing a strong resemblance to their deceased mistress, and passing,
of course, for her apparition. When some of the boldest resolved to
approach this faded form, it fled from them into the woods with a wild
shriek. The husband, informed of this circumstance, came up to the glen
with some attendants, and took his measures so well as to intercept
the retreat of the unhappy fugitive, and to secure the person of his
unfortunate lady, though her intellect proved to be totally deranged.
How she supported herself during her wandering in the woods could not be
known--some supposed she lived upon roots and wild-berries, with which
the woods at that season abounded; but the greater part of the vulgar
were satisfied that she must have subsisted upon the milk of the wild
does, or been nourished by the fairies, or supported in some manner
equally marvellous. Her re-appearance was more easily accounted for. She
had seen from the thicket the milking of the cows, to superintend which
had been her favourite domestic employment, and the habit had prevailed
even in her deranged state of mind.

"In due season the unfortunate lady was delivered of a boy, who not only
showed no appearance of having suffered from his mother's calamities,
but appeared to be an infant of uncommon health and strength. The
unhappy mother, after her confinement, recovered her reason--at least
in a great measure, but never her health and spirits. Allan was her only
joy. Her attention to him was unremitting; and unquestionably she must
have impressed upon his early mind many of those superstitious ideas to
which his moody and enthusiastic temper gave so ready a reception. She
died when he was about ten years old. Her last words were spoken to him
in private; but there is little doubt that they conveyed an injunction
of vengeance upon the Children of the Mist, with which he has since
amply complied.

"From this moment, the habits of Allan M'Aulay were totally changed.
He had hitherto been his mother's constant companion, listening to
her dreams,