te
state of the father.

In another corner of the cottage, her face covered by her apron, which
was flung over it, sat the mother--the nature of her grief sufficiently
indicated by the wringing of her hands, and the convulsive agitation
of the bosom, which the covering could not conceal. Two of her gossips,
officiously whispering into her ear the commonplace topic of resignation
under irremediable misfortune, seemed as if they were endeavouring to
stun the grief which they could not console.

The sorrow of the children was mingled with wonder at the preparations
they beheld around them, and at the unusual display of wheaten bread
and wine, which the poorest peasant, or fisher, offers to the guests on
these mournful occasions; and thus their grief for their brother's death
was almost already lost in admiration of the splendour of his funeral.

But the figure of the old grandmother was the most remarkable of the
sorrowing group. Seated on her accustomed chair, with her usual air of
apathy, and want of interest in what surrounded her, she seemed every
now and then mechanically to resume the motion of twirling her spindle;
then to look towards her bosom for the distaff, although both had been
laid aside. She would then cast her eyes about, as if surprised at
missing the usual implements of her industry, and appear struck by the
black colour of the gown in which they had dressed her, and embarrassed
by the number of persons by whom she was surrounded. Then, finally, she
would raise her head with a ghastly look, and fix her eyes upon the bed
which contained the coffin of her grandson, as if she had at once,
and for the first time, acquired sense to comprehend her inexpressible
calamity. These alternate feelings of embarrassment, wonder, and grief,
seemed to succeed each other more than once upon her torpid features.
But she spoke not a word--neither had she shed a tear--nor did one of the
family understand, either from look or expression, to what extent she
comprehended the uncommon bustle around her. Thus she sat among the
funeral assembly like a connecting link between the surviving mourners
and the dead corpse which they bewailed--a being in whom the light of
existence was already obscured by the encroaching shadows of death.

When Oldbuck entered this house of mourning, he was received by a
general and silent inclination of the head, and, according to the
fashion of Scotland on such occasions, wine and spirits and brea