66 Young man, you think I am a vain old woman, -and no doubt I have a spice on't in my nature, -and I make no question but some of these fools now looking at us, are wondering what ye can see in the face of an auld dame of sixty years, wha lies under a vow, besides, never to change her condition. Now I have sought ye out, that I might give ye a word of good advice, which ye maun lay up in your heart." Paul turned an anxious ear, and she proceeded.

"My counsel is this-ye mauna let her lippen owre muckle to what the young lord says. She's bonnie, and besides her wit, that's aye fu' ready, she has mair sense than falls to the share of any three queans in seven miles. But ane may hae mair wit than they can weel guide, and mair beauty than may be for their benefit, sae an I were you, Paul, I would ca' a hag in the post,I wad e'en draw a thorn in that slap,—I wad make him keep the cauld side of the wall and her the warm side,-I see ye ken what I mean. there's mae ways o' keeping the cat frae the cream than drowning her, there's mae ways o' keeping the crow frae the corn than by shooting it,—and we mauna wish the stream dry because it happens to weet our feet. Na, ye needna turn red ae minute and pale anither, my counsel is the counsel of an honest heart. I might hae sat here till a' the hours at een, and no ane ken'd but that I was lame o' a

But

leg, had it no been for thee, lad,-my counsel is honest, if there's truth in words."

"Dame," said Paul, "speak more plainly, it is dangerous to guess from surmises such as yours,and how know you that the young nobleman entertains thoughts, against which beauty and sense should be warned ?" She stared at him, and said,

"The lad's demented, thoughts against which sense and beauty should be warned! my certie has he, and mony o' them too. But yere as wild maybe yeresel as the young lord. Oh, sirs! men are ill cattle to ken,-it's time I were free o' yere company,-ye'll hae some o'er-the-sea art now o' wiling away the heart o' a young thing that wins its bread by its honest character." Paul hastened to assure her, that he was unacquainted with any such art. "Aweel, lad, and I believe ye," said dame Kissock; but, touching the wildness o' the young lord, ye have been over the sea, and mayna have heard how sadly he has spilled the characters of some of the sweetest queans of the country. First, there was Bessie Brydone,-it's true, she should have feared a fa' frae ane sae far aboon her in rank, then there was Leezie Carson's Jenny, poor thing, I was sorry mysel for her;-but wha could stand under vows that wad have loaded a barge, and oaths that wad have sunk it, and honied words, nae doubt, and promises, the breaking of which would have brought discredit on three horse

coupers ? but I'll skip half a score, and tell ye o' ane, bonnie Grace Joysan, the flower o' Gallowa. She was proof to all his arts, till it fell on a time at a Dumfries fair, that he walked wi' Grace on the street as gin she had been a born lady; and ladylike she seemed on that day, as the titled and feathered madams showed, for O, they looked eager and envious. It set them weel, I trow, to rustle their silks in scorn o' the bonnie young thing, the doucest o' them a' have forgot themselves in the dark wi' him, else there's mony a liar in the country; but fiend afears o' them going mad with the shame o' their folly, like poor Grace Joysan."

"Aweel ye see," continued dame Kissock, "he walked with poor witless Grace on the street, till he thought her head was fairly turned, and then he took her into a house in the Friar's Vennel,-nae gude ane I doubt; but the lassie wadna yield; and then he put on his cap o' repentance and sued for mercy, and sent for a worthy magistrate, Rimmon-a-Coulter, and married they would hae been, baith sicker and sure, hadnae ane of his grooms, Jock Dyvore by name, the son o’auld Willie Dyvore, wha broke wi' the fou hand,-I'se conceal naebody's shame in a tale of sorrow. This bird of an ill kind came in with a borrowed wig and a black coat on, and answered with a cough to the name of auld Rimmon, and the poor lassie never looked up, and sae the tae son o' Belial married

the tither. Then came the bedding, ye see, and next the morning-light; and when he told her how she was nae his lady, she fell out o' ae faint into anither, and then gade deleerit, and sae continues. Now ye see, he's other than a gude ane, and I would advise thee;—but what's the lad glowering at, it's only the young lord that's gaun to dance with thy sister Maud. I'll answer for't, she'll bring music out of that floor, with her slipper sole, sweeter than any sound that can be produced by thairm. Wherefore, Paul lad, wilt thou rin,—he's gane frae me like a flaff o' fire. O sirs, but young folk be daft!"

The music was about to commence, and Lord Dalveen, with Maud Paul for a partner, stood moving the dark masses of ringlets at her ear, with many a whispered compliment, when Paul hastily approached. A more lovely creature than his sister was not then in the country-side. Tall and graceful, with a profusion of dark hair curling and glossy like the bloom of the hyacinth, and with eyes shedding light and love from beneath long dark lashes, she stood neither seeking nor yet shunning the conversation of the young nobleman, while the titter of many an envious tongue might be heard around.

When the dance was ended, Lord Dalveen accompanied his partner to a seat, placed himself beside her, and renewed his suit with much earnestness and eloquence. A word was whispered

in his ear, by Airngray, his favourite servant,-he rose and followed him into the open air,-Paul stood before him, and spoke with his natural decision of character:-" My lord, my sister is dear to me, her innocence is her only portion,-I wish it neither to be endangered nor suspected; it may be both, if your lordship continues your addresses. It is my desire that you discontinue them.""Upon my life you do me much honour, Paul, answered Lord Dalveen; " I have said a few light words in the girl's ear, but I have made no addresses, my sensitive friend. I shall continue to speak to her till she has the cruelty to forbid me herself, and probably not then,—a woman is a capricious creature, Paul." Paul's looks changed, yet he answered calmly,—" My lord, I can be as determined as others can be presumptuous. Dance with Maud if it so pleases you,-but let there be no more love-whisperings, no more night-wanderings around my mother's house,-you understand me I see. Refuse this, and I shall desire your lordship's company in the Mermaid-bay before the moon is down."

"It is a sweet moonlight," was the reply of the young nobleman, "the Mermaid-bay is a romantic place, and in one minute I shall incur the penalty that will give me your company in that sweet spot." He parted with Paul as he spoke, re-entered the hall, seated himself beside Maud, renewed his conversation in a tone so audible as to draw