“Swear, d’ye think I wad say at any time in my life what I wad na swear till?”
“And the lady—what did you call her name?”
“Aurora; it’s a strange name, but my lard said it had a fine meanin, something about the dawn o’ the day.”
“Yes—yes, it was a pretty name—but when together how did they seem? Was he in the habit of calling her his wife? Did she call him husband?”
“Aye—aye, baith him an her; she, puir thing, took great delight i’ the name.”
“Then you knew this man to be Lord Clare? Had you seen him often before?”
“Seen him? wha else learned him to shoot o’ the hills and fish i’ the loch yonder?”
“And you would know this girl by your memory of her mother?”
“Sud I ken the lassie by mother’s look, d’ye speer?—sud I ken my ain bairn, think ye? The twa are as like as twa pease—the same blink o’ the ee—hair like the wing o’ the raven—a step like the mountain deer. Aye—aye, I ken her weel.”
I drew near to the old man, impatient to learn more of my parents, and was about to interrupt him with questions; but Chaleco promptly repelled me with a motion of the hand, giving a warning look which I dared not disregard.