ead by torch-light?"

"They hae aye dune sae," said the grandmother, "since the time the Great
Earl fell in the sair battle o' the Harlaw, when they say the coronach
was cried in ae day from the mouth of the Tay to the Buck of the
Cabrach, that ye wad hae heard nae other sound but that of lamentation
for the great folks that had fa'en fighting against Donald of the Isles.
But the Great Earl's mither was living--they were a doughty and a dour
race, the women o' the house o' Glenallan--and she wad hae nae coronach
cried for her son, but had him laid in the silence o' midnight in his
place o' rest, without either drinking the dirge, or crying the lament.
She said he had killed enow that day he died, for the widows and
daughters o' the Highlanders he had slain to cry the coronach for them
they had lost, and for her son too; and sae she laid him in his gave wi'
dry eyes, and without a groan or a wail. And it was thought a proud word
o' the family, and they aye stickit by it--and the mair in the latter
times, because in the night-time they had mair freedom to perform their
popish ceremonies by darkness and in secrecy than in the daylight--at
least that was the case in my time; they wad hae been disturbed in
the day-time baith by the law and the commons of Fairport--they may be
owerlooked now, as I have heard: the warlds changed--I whiles hardly ken
whether I am standing or sitting, or dead or living."

And looking round the fire, as if in a state of unconscious uncertainty
of which she complained, old Elspeth relapsed into her habitual and
mechanical occupation of twirling the spindle.

"Eh, sirs!" said Jenny Rintherout, under her breath to her gossip, "it's
awsome to hear your gudemither break out in that gait--it's like the dead
speaking to the living."

"Ye're no that far wrang, lass; she minds naething o' what passes the
day--but set her on auld tales, and she can speak like a prent buke.
She kens mair about the Glenallan family than maist folk--the gudeman's
father was their fisher mony a day. Ye maun ken the papists make a great
point o' eating fish--it's nae bad part o' their religion that, whatever
the rest is--I could aye sell the best o' fish at the best o' prices for
the Countess's ain table, grace be wi' her! especially on a Friday--But
see as our gudemither's hands and lips are ganging--now it's working in
her head like barm--she'll speak eneugh the night. Whiles she'll no speak
a word in a week, unless it be