ouglas she welcomed him with much
cordiality, shook him long and heartily by the hand, patted him on the
back, looked into his face with much seeming satisfaction; and, in
short, gave all the demonstrations of gladness usual with gentlewomen of
a certain age. Her pleasure, however, appeared to be rather an
_impromptu_ than an habitual feeling; for as the surprise wore off her
visage resumed its harsh and sarcastic expression, and she seemed eager
to efface any agreeable impression her reception might have
excited.

"An' wha thought o' seein ye enow?" said she, in a quick gabbling voice.
"What brought you to the toon? Are ye come to spend our honest faither's
siller ere he's weel cauld in his grave, puir man?"

Mr. Douglas explained that it was upon account of his niece's health.

"Health!" repeated she, with a sardonic smile; "it wad mak' an ool
laugh to hear the wark that's made aboot young fowk's health noo-a-days.
I wonder what ye're aw made o' "--grasping Mary's arm in her great bony
hand--"a wheen puir feckless windlestraes; ye maun awa' to Ingland for
ye're healths. Set ye up! I wonder what cam' o' the lasses i' my time,
that bute to bide at hame? And whilk o' ye, I sude like to ken, 'II ere
leive to see ninety-sax, like me? Health!--he, he !"

Mary, glad of a pretence to in indulge the mirth the old lady's manner
and appearance had excited, joined most heartily in the laugh.

"Tak. aff ye're bannet, bairn, an' let me see ye're face. Wha can tell
what like ye are wi' that snule o' a thing on ye're head?" Then after
taking an accurate survey of her face, she pushed aside her pelisse."
Weel, it's ae mercy, I see ye hae neither the red heed nor the muckle
cuits o' the Douglases. I ken nae whuther ye're faither had them or no.
I ne'er set een on him; neither him nor his braw leddie thought it worth
their while to speer after me; but I was at nae loss, by aw accounts."

"You have not asked after any of your Glenfern friends," said Mr.
Douglas, hoping to touch a more sympathetic chord.

"Time eneugh. Wull ye let me draw my breath, man? Fowk canna say awthing
at ance. An' ye bute to hae an Inglish wife tu; a Scotch lass wad nae
serr ye. An' ye're wean, I'se warran', it's ane o' the warld's wonders;
it's been unco lang o' cummin--he, he!"

"He has begun life under very melancholy auspices, poor fellow!" said
Mr. Douglas, in allusion to his father's death.

"An' wha's faut was that? I ne'er heard tell the like o'