heels against the bark o' the auld elm tree."

"Say not that, faither," said she--"let me at least hae four days to
become acquainted wi' him; and if in that time he doesna mak a request
to you to marry me without ony dowry, then will I say that I look even
waur than I get the name o' doing."

"He shall have four days, Meg," cried the old knight; "for your sake he
will have them; but if, at the end o' four days, he shall refuse to take
ye, he shall hang before this window, and his poor half-crazed companion
shall bear him company."

With this assurance Agnes, or, as she was called, Meg left her father,
and bethought her of how she might save the prisoners and secure a
husband.

The mother of the laird sat in the midst of her daughters, mourning for
him, and looking from the window of the tower, as though, in every form
that appeared in the distance, she expected to see him, or at least to
gather tidings regarding him, when information was brought to her that
he was the prisoner of Murray of Elibank.

"Then," cried she, and wept, "the days o' my winsome Willie are
numbered, and his death is determined on; for often has Sir Gideon
declared he would gie a' the lands o' Elibank for his head. My Willie is
my only son, my first-born, and my heart's hope and treasure; and, oh,
if I lose him now, if I shall never again hear his kindly voice say
'_mother_!' nor stroke down his yellow hair--wi' him that has made me
sonless I shall hae a day o' lang and fearfu' reckoning; cauld shall be
the hearth-stane in the house o' many a Murray, and loud their
lamentation."

Her daughters wept with her for their brother's fate; but they wist not
how to comfort her; and, while they sat mingling their tears together,
it was announced to them that a humble maiden, bearing a message from
the captive laird, desired to speak with her.

"Show her in!--take me to her!" cried the mother, impatiently. "Where is
she?--what does she say?--or what does my Willie say?" And the maiden
who has been mentioned as having visited the laird in his prison, was
ushered into her presence.

"Come to me, lassie--come and tell me a'," cried the old lady; "what
message does Willie Scott send to his heart-broken mother?"

"He has sent you this bit packet, ma'am," replied the bearer; "and I
shall be right glad to take back to him whatever answer ye may hae to
send."

"And wha are ye, young woman?" inquired the lady, "that speaks sae
kindly to a mother, an'