“Ye’re nane o’ ye gaun to jump and break banes at my door. I’ll no hae mysel brocht in for a doctor’s bill, like the way the auld maister brocht in Eppie for the muckle bowl she broke,” said Dragon. “Gang quiet down the steps, bairns, or I’ll no let you come here ony mair. And now, you see, we’ll take this road, and we’ll sune be at the Lady’s Well.”
The road was a solitary lane, looking deep and cool under the shadow of high thorn hedges, through which the delicate white convolvulus had darned its fairy leaves and tendrils. Here and there in the hedge-row, an old low oak, long shorn of all its branches, stood alone like some strong ruin, with a growth of pliant twigs, and young foliage waving over the bald trunk as they might have waved over a moss-grown wall. The ruddy clouds of the sunset were rapidly fading from the west, and already a meek young moon glanced shyly over the head of Demeyet; but it was still full daylight, and the children skipped along gaily by Dragon’s side, keeping an eye on the field, whence Mailie, the brown cow, began to low her impatient summons to her maid; but the maid did not make her appearance, and Violet and Katie went merrily on to the Lady’s Well.
The Lady’s Well lay under the shadow of an immense old saugh tree, whose whispering, sighing branches were continually bending down with a kind of graceful melancholy curiosity over the clear spring at its feet. A very narrow strip of path proved that there still came occasional visitors to the little fountain; but the underwood was thick and tangled round it, and the long bramble branches, on which already early berries began to ripen, formed a dangerous network of defence, closing up even the one entrance, which gave admittance to the small circle of green turf surrounding the spring. But there were signs remaining which told of a time when greater honour was paid to the Lady’s Well; for the water bubbled up into a marble basin, and a small carved canopy protected it from the falling leaves. The little girls scrambled through the brambles with eager interest, and Katie bent curiously over the protecting cradle, while Violet sat down upon a great stone, which lay beside the basin—a hewn stone, slightly hollowed out in the centre, as if it had been used as a seat for ages. The stillness of the place, shut in on every side by the surrounding wood, and the silvery tinkle with which the water escaped from the hollowed edge of the basin, and passed away in a slender thread over the bleached pebbles of its narrow channel—away under the thick concealing brushwood, disappearing as completely as though the earth had swallowed it again—affected Lettie with strange awe; and so it was not her, but her little companion, who broke the dreamy silence by demanding from Dragon the story he had promised.
“Ye see, bairns,” said Dragon, seating himself on the slender trunk of a young willow, cut down and left there for dead, but which was already throwing out its unquenchable life in long shoots of delicate green, “there was ance a Laird of Allenders, and he had ae only daughter, and her name was Violet. But they never ca’d her Lettie, as they do you, Missie—aye, the full name, like as if she had been a flower; and as bonnie as a flower she was, by a’ accounts, and made ballants and sangs out of her ain head. But, bairns, ye’ll be getting your death of cauld in this dowie place, and then the blame’s sure to come on me.”
“But the lady, Dragon—the lady,” exclaimed Violet, whose interest had been greatly quickened by the lady’s name.
“Weel, as I was saying, there was not anither woman body about the house but hersel, and some servant women—neither mother, nor sister, nor friend; and the auld laird living solitary, and the young ane away in Flanders at the wars; so Leddy Violet ga’ed wandering about the water and the hills, her lane, and had an awfu’ wark wi’ this bit spring, and caused bring the very stane you’re sitting on, Missie,” (a thrill of strange interest passed over Lettie), “and came ilka day hersel, and drank the water in a silver cup, and sat upon the seat, with her ain thoughts for company, till the spirits that were in the world then, began to take note of her, and tell ane anither of the Lady at the Well. Some say she began to get wit of them hersel, and saw them watching her out of the trees; but ye maunna believe that, bairns, for it has nae foundation—no a hair of proof, to satisfy ony man that inquired into it.”
“But there came a braw gentleman to the countryside that had a grand castle some way in the Lennox, and great friends among the Highland chiefs; and ae day, when he was gaun wandering by the links of Forth, he heard music in the air, and ga’ed on and on, following after it, till it led him by the very road we came this nicht, and brought him to where Leddy Violet was sitting by the well. And what should this be but a sma’ fairy, that had a lad hersel, nae doubt, and likit Leddy Violet, and didna ken what grand company guid thoughts were, but aye lamented ower the bonnie leddy, her lane and solitary in the wood. Ane canna tell now what kind of spirits thae fairies were, but nae doubt they had discrimination; for it even turned out sae, that the leddy hersel likit the braw lad’s company better than her ain thoughts.”
“Eh, Dragon, are you sure there’s nae fairies now?” asked Katie Calder.
“He’ll tell us the morn. I want to hear about the Lady, Dragon?” said the eager Violet.
“I never saw ony,” said the old man, mysteriously, “whiles I’ve heard folk say—but I’ll no tell you that, or you’ll be feared.”