e night as far as Riccarton, where there is a public; or if ye like to
stop at Jockey Grieve's at the Heuch, they would be blythe to see ye, and
I am just gaun to stop and drink a dram at the door wi' him, and I would
tell him you're coming up. Or stay--gudewife, could ye lend this
gentleman the gudeman's galloway, and I'll send it ower the Waste in the
morning wi' the callant?'

The galloway was turned out upon the fell, and was swear to
catch.--'Aweel, aweel, there's nae help for't, but come up the morn at
ony rate. And now, gudewife, I maun ride, to get to the Liddel or it be
dark, for your Waste has but a kittle character, ye ken yoursell.'

'Hout fie, Mr. Dinmont, that's no like you, to gie the country an ill
name. I wot, there has been nane stirred in the Waste since Sawney
Culloch, the travelling-merchant, that Rowley Overdees and Jock Penny
suffered for at Carlisle twa years since. There's no ane in Bewcastle
would do the like o' that now; we be a' true folk now.'

'Ay, Tib, that will be when the deil's blind; and his een's no sair yet.
But hear ye, gudewife, I have been through maist feck o' Galloway and
Dumfries-shire, and I have been round by Carlisle, and I was at the
Staneshiebank Fair the day, and I would like ill to be rubbit sae near
hame, so I'll take the gate.'

'Hae ye been in Dumfries and Galloway?' said the old dame who sate
smoking by the fireside, and who had not yet spoken a word.

'Troth have I, gudewife, and a weary round I've had o't.'

'Then ye'll maybe ken a place they ca' Ellangowan?'

'Ellangowan, that was Mr. Bertram's? I ken the place weel eneugh. The
Laird died about a fortnight since, as I heard.'

'Died!' said the old woman, dropping her pipe, and rising and coming
forward upon the floor--'died? are you sure of that?'

'Troth, am I,' said Dinmont, 'for it made nae sma' noise in the
country-side. He died just at the roup of the stocking and furniture; it
stoppit the roup, and mony folk were disappointed. They said he was the
last of an auld family too, and mony were sorry; for gude blude's scarcer
in Scotland than it has been.'

'Dead!' replied the old woman, whom our readers have already recognised
as their acquaintance Meg Merrilies--'dead! that quits a' scores. And did
ye say he died without an heir?'

'Ay did he, gudewife, and the estate's sell'd by the same token; for they
said they couldna have sell'd it if there had been an heir-male.'

'Sell'd!' echoed the gipsy, w