I answered, for my
heart kindled at her words, that her hate was equalled by mine."

"Wretch!" exclaimed the Earl, in spite of his determination to preserve
silence--"wretched woman! what cause of hate could have arisen from a
being so innocent and gentle?"

"I hated what my mistress hated, as was the use with the liege vassals
of the house of Glenallan; for though, my Lord, I married under my
degree, yet an ancestor of yours never went to the field of battle, but
an ancestor of the frail, demented, auld, useless wretch wha now speaks
with you, carried his shield before him. But that was not a'," continued
the beldam, her earthly and evil passions rekindling as she became
heated in her narration--"that was not a'; I hated Miss Eveline Neville
for her ain sake, I brought her frae England, and, during our whole
journey, she gecked and scorned at my northern speech and habit, as her
southland leddies and kimmers had done at the boarding-school, as they
cald it"--(and, strange as it may seem, she spoke of an affront offered
by a heedless school-girl without intention, with a degree of inveteracy
which, at such a distance of time, a mortal offence would neither have
authorized or excited in any well-constituted mind)--"Yes, she scorned
and jested at me--but let them that scorn the tartan fear the dirk!"

She paused, and then went on--"But I deny not that I hated her mair than
she deserved. My mistress, the Countess, persevered and said, Elspeth
Cheyne, this unruly boy will marry with the false English blood.
Were days as they have been, I could throw her into the Massymore* of
Glenallan, and fetter him in the Keep of Strathbonnel.

* Massa-mora, an ancient name for a dungeon, derived from the Moorish
language, perhaps as far back as the time of the Crusades.

But these times are past, and the authority which the nobles of the
land should exercise is delegated to quibbling lawyers and their baser
dependants. Hear me, Elspeth Cheyne! if you are your father's daughter
as I am mine, I will find means that they shall not marry. She walks
often to that cliff that overhangs your dwelling to look for her
lover's boat--(ye may remember the pleasure ye then took on the sea, my
Lord)--let him find her forty fathom lower than he expects!'--Yes! ye may
stare and frown and clench your hand; but, as sure as I am to face the
only Being I ever feared--and, oh that I had feared him mair!--these were
your mother's words. What avails it to