y burst into tears.
Bertram saw enough to convince him that the poor creature's wits were
unsettled; and from the words of one of the fragments which she sang, a
suspicion flashed upon his mind that it could be no other than his
hostess in the wild cottage; though how, or on what errand, come over
to this neighbourhood--he was at a loss to guess. To satisfy himself on
all these points if possible, he moved nearer and accosted her:

"A cold evening, good mother, for one so old as you to be sitting out
in the open air."

"Yes, Sir," she answered, without expressing any surprise at his sudden
interruption; "yes, Sir, its a cold evening: but I am waiting for a
young lad that was to meet me here."

Bertram now saw that his conjecture was right: it was indeed his aged
and mysterious hostess: but, before he could speak, she seemed to have
forgotten that he was present--and sang in an under tone:

They hung him high aboon the rest,
He was sae trim a boy;
Thair dyed the youth whom I lov'd best
--My winsome Gilderoy.

"A young man you were expecting to meet you?" said Bertram.

"Yes, Sir, a young man:" and then, holding up her apron to her face as
if ashamed, she added--"he was a sweetheart of mine. Sir." But in a
moment, as if recollecting herself, she cried out--"No, no, no: I'll
tell you the whole truth: he was my son, my love, my darling: and they
took him, Sir, they hanged him here. And, if you'll believe my word,
Sir--they wouldn't let his old mother kiss his bonny lips before he
died. Well, well! Let's have nothing but peace and quietness. All's to
be right at last. There's more of us, I believe, that won't die in our
beds. But don't say I told you."

"My good old hostess, can you show me the road to Griffith ap Gauvon?"

"Ap Gauvon, is it? Aye, aye: there's one of them: _he_'ll never die in
his bed, rest you sure of that. Never you trouble your head about him:
I've settled all that: and Edward Nicholas will be hanged at this
gallows, if my name's Gillie Godber."

"But, Mrs. Godber, don't you remember me? I was two nights at your
cottage; and I'm now going to the Abbey of Ap Gauvon where I hope to
meet one that I may perhaps be of some service to."

"Don't think it: there's nobody can ever be of service to Edward
Nicholas. He's to be hanged, I tell you, and nobody must save him. I
have heard it sworn to. You'll say that I am but a weak old woman. But
you would not think now what a voic