hat: blood-money for the
betrayed! See what I'm brought down to! Ah, if the bonny lad were back
again, it would be changed days. But he's deid--he's lyin' deid amang
the Hieland hills--the bonny lad, the bonny lad!"

She had a rapt manner of crying on the bonny lad, clasping her hands and
casting up her eyes, that I think she must have learned of strolling
players; and I thought her sorrow very much of an affectation, and that
she dwelled upon the business because her shame was now all she had to
be proud of. I will not say I did not pity her, but it was a loathing
pity at the best; and her last change of manner wiped it out. This was
when she had had enough of me for an audience, and had set her name at
last to the receipt. "There!" says she, and, taking the most unwomanly
oaths upon her tongue, bade me begone and carry it to the Judas who had
sent me. It was the first time I had heard the name applied to Mr.
Henry; I was staggered besides at her sudden vehemence of word and
manner, and got forth from the room, under this shower of curses, like a
beaten dog. But even then I was not quit, for the vixen threw up her
window, and, leaning forth, continued to revile me as I went up the
wynd; the free-traders, coming to the tavern door, joined in the
mockery, and one had even the inhumanity to set upon me a very savage
small dog, which bit me in the ankle. This was a strong lesson, had I
required one, to avoid ill company; and I rode home in much pain from
the bite, and considerable indignation of mind.

Mr. Henry was in the steward's room, affecting employment, but I could
see he was only impatient to hear of my errand.

"Well?" says he, as soon as I came in; and when I had told him something
of what passed, and that Jessie seemed an undeserving woman, and far
from grateful: "She is no friend to me," said he; "but indeed,
Mackellar, I have few friends to boast of, and Jessie has some cause to
be unjust. I need not dissemble what all the country knows: she was not
very well used by one of our family." This was the first time I had
heard him refer to the Master, even distantly; and I think he found his
tongue rebellious even for that much, but presently he resumed--"This is
why I would have nothing said. It would give pain to Mrs. Henry ... and
to my father," he added, with another flush.

"Mr. Henry," said I, "if you will take a freedom at my hands, I would
tell you to let that woman be. What service is your money to the