“A young tramp, sir,” explained the old man. “A young tramp who passed this way an hour ago; and ye should get her pit into a House of Correction, ye might be doing her good service.”
“I have no time to stop, but if I should see the young woman I will do what I can for her. Good night,” said the traveller, putting spurs to his horse, and galloping away as if determined not to be detained another moment.
“I’ll tell you what, Jenny, there’s something unco wrong up at the old Hall! And now shut up the house and come away to bed,” said old Andy, turning from the door, and dragging his blanket behind him like a court train.
“I couldna sleep a wink wi’out hearing what becomes o’ that poor houseless child. I’ll sit up and sew, and show a light i’ the window, in case she behooves to come back again,” replied Mrs. Birney, replacing the lantern on the stand before the window, resuming her seat on her low chair in the chimney corner, and taking up her work, while the old man, for the last time that night, shut up the house and went to bed.
CHAPTER II.
AT THE OLD HALL.
Yes, there thou art below the hill,
By evergreens encircled still,
Old hall that time hath deigned to spare,
Mid rugged rocks and forests fair,
And nightshade o’er the casement creeping,