f years, that the nurse became a resident in the family
of her foster-son, assisting in the domestic duties, and receiving all
marks of attention and regard from the heads of the family. So soon
as Hobbie recognised the figure of Annaple, in her red cloak and black
hood, he could not help exclaiming to himself, "What ill luck can
hae brought the auld nurse sae far frae hame, her that never stirs a
gun-shot frae the door-stane for ordinar?--Hout, it will just be to get
crane-berries, or whortle-berries, or some such stuff, out of the moss,
to make the pies and tarts for the feast on Monday.--I cannot get the
words of that cankered auld cripple deil's-buckie out o' my head--the
least thing makes me dread some ill news.--O, Killbuck, man! were there
nae deer and goats in the country besides, but ye behoved to gang and
worry his creature, by a' other folk's?"

By this time Annaple, with a brow like a tragic volume, had hobbled
towards him, and caught his horse by the bridle. The despair in her look
was so evident as to deprive even him of the power of asking the cause.
"O my bairn!" she cried, "gang na forward--gang na forward--it's a sight
to kill onybody, let alane thee."

"In God's name, what's the matter?" said the astonished horseman,
endeavouring to extricate his bridle from the grasp of the old woman;
"for Heaven's sake, let me go and see what's the matter."

"Ohon! that I should have lived to see the day!--The steading's a' in
a low, and the bonny stack-yard lying in the red ashes, and the gear a'
driven away. But gang na forward; it wad break your young heart, hinny,
to see what my auld een hae seen this morning."

"And who has dared to do this? let go my bridle, Annaple--where is my
grandmother--my sisters?--Where is Grace Armstrong?--God!--the words of
the warlock are knelling in my ears!"

He sprang from his horse to rid himself of Annaple's interruption, and,
ascending the hill with great speed, soon came in view of the spectacle
with which she had threatened him. It was indeed a heart-breaking
sight. The habitation which he had left in its seclusion, beside the
mountain-stream, surrounded with every evidence of rustic plenty, was
now a wasted and blackened ruin. From amongst the shattered and sable
walls the smoke continued to rise. The turf-stack, the barn-yard, the
offices stocked with cattle, all the wealth of an upland cultivator of
the period, of which poor Elliot possessed no common share, had
been