he land gude, and freedom of
worship to tender consciences, it's little matter what it has brought to
a puir blind worm like me."

"Still," replied Morton, "I cannot see how it could possibly injure you."

"It's a lang story, sir," answered his hostess, with a sigh. "But ae
night, sax weeks or thereby afore Bothwell Brigg, a young gentleman
stopped at this puir cottage, stiff and bloody with wounds, pale and dune
out wi' riding, and his horse sae weary he couldna drag ae foot after the
other, and his foes were close ahint him, and he was ane o' our enemies.
What could I do, sir? You that's a sodger will think me but a silly auld
wife; but I fed him, and relieved him, and keepit him hidden till the
pursuit was ower."

"And who," said Morton, "dares disapprove of your having done so?"

"I kenna," answered the blind woman; "I gat ill-will about it amang some
o' our ain folk. They said I should hae been to him what Jael was to
Sisera. But weel I wot I had nae divine command to shed blood, and to
save it was baith like a woman and a Christian. And then they said I
wanted natural affection, to relieve ane that belanged to the band that
murdered my twa sons."

"That murdered your two sons?"

"Ay, sir; though maybe ye'll gie their deaths another name. The tane fell
wi' sword in hand, fighting for a broken national Covenant; the
tother,--oh, they took him and shot him dead on the green before his
mother's face! My auld een dazzled when the shots were looten off, and,
to my thought, they waxed weaker and weaker ever since that weary day;
and sorrow, and heart-break, and tears that would not be dried, might
help on the disorder. But, alas! betraying Lord Evandale's young blood
to his enemies' sword wad ne'er hae brought my Ninian and Johnie alive
again."

"Lord Evandale?" said Morton, in surprise. "Was it Lord Evandale whose
life you saved?"

"In troth, even his," she replied. "And kind he was to me after, and gae
me a cow and calf, malt, meal, and siller, and nane durst steer me when
he was in power. But we live on an outside bit of Tillietudlem land, and
the estate was sair plea'd between Leddy Margaret Bellenden and the
present laird, Basil Olifant, and Lord Evandale backed the auld leddy for
love o' her daughter Miss Edith, as the country said, ane o' the best and
bonniest lassies in Scotland. But they behuved to gie way, and Basil gat
the Castle and land, and on the back o' that came the Revolution, and wha
to turn