"I am a stranger here," said Walter, no longer able to repress the torture of his mind; "I know nothing of the vile plot you speak of, having been long in the industrious Low Countries—and—and—cans't tell me, your Reverence, whose mansion is approached by yonder stately avenue of oaks and sycamores?"
"The House of Bruntisfield—called of old the Wrytes."
"Aich ay," added Elsie, shaking her head mournfully; "but a house o' wrongs now."
"Wherefore, gudewife?"
"It is a lang story, honoured Sir," replied Elsie, drawing her stool nearer Walter, and knitting very fast to hide her emotion. "The auld line o' the Napiers ended in a lassie, as bonnie a doo as the Lowdens three could boast o', and mony came frae baith far and near to the wooing and winning o' her; but nane cam speed save a neer-do-weel-loon o' a cavalier officer, to whom she plighted heart and troth—and the plighting pledge was a deid woman's ring. As might be expected, the hellicate cavalier gaed awa' to the wars and plundering in the Lowlands of Holland, and sair my young lady sorrowed for him; I ken that weel, for I was her nurse, and mony a lang hour she grat in my arms for her love that was far awa'. At last word came frae Low Germanie that the fause villain had married some unco' papistical woman, and, in a mad fit o' black despair, my lady accepted the most determined, if no the best o' her suitors——"
"Who?" asked Walter in an unearthly voice, and feeling for the sword he wore no longer. "Who?"
"Randal Lord Clermistonlee, and ehow! but sair hath been the change in our gude auld barony since then. Her braw lands and farmsteadings, her auld patrimony, baith haugh and holme, loch and lea, brae and burn, are a' melting and fleeing awa' by the wasterfu' extravagance o' the wildest loon in a' braid Scotland. Hawks and hounds, revellers and roisterers, and ill-women, thrang the great ha' house frae een to morn and morn till eenin'; and sae, between the freaks and follies, the pride and caprice o' her lord, my puir doo Lilian leads the life o' a blessed martyr. When mad wi' wine and ill luck at the dice tables, he rampages ower her like a Bull o' Bashan; while, at other times, he just doats on her as a faither would on a favourite bairn. But, alake! doating can never remove the misery that has closed over her for the short time she'll likely be amang us—for her heart is breaking fast—it is—it is!"
Here Elsie wept bitterly, and then resumed.
"Her marriage day was ane o' the darkest dool to a' the barony, for on that miserable day our auld lady died; and a' the leal servitors were soon after expelled to mak' room for the broken horse-coupers, ill-women and vagabonds, that were ever and aye in the train o' the new lord."
While Elsie ran on thus, Walter heard her not. His mind was a perfect chaos of distraction.