It was after sunset on the evening of the 13th of April, 1745, that the Pensassenach was seated in her elbow chair, by the fire in her little parlour. She was alone, for her husband had been called away from home, for some days, on very urgent business, and as she felt herself slightly indisposed, she was prepared to take particular care of herself for that night. A small tall-shaped chased silver vessel of mulled elderberry wine, with a close top to it to keep its contents warm, together with a very tiny silver cup, were placed beside her on a little round walnut-tree table, supported on a single spiral pillar with three claws. She was about to pour out a little of this medicinal fluid, to be taken preparatory to retiring to bed for the night, when she was startled by a noise in the kitchen, and immediately afterwards she was alarmed by the abrupt entrance of her maid Morag.
“Mem!—Mem!” cried the girl, breathless with the importance of her intelligence, “tare’s Wully Tallas, ta packman in ta kitchen!—He’s come a’ ta way frae Speymouth sin yesterday. Ta Englishers are a’ comin’ upon us horse and futs!—horse and futs an’ mockell cannons, an’ we’ll be a’ mordered, an’ waur!—fat wull we do?”
“What say you, girl?” exclaimed the Pensassenach, starting from her chair, and overturning all her meditated comforts in her hurry. “But get out of my way, you senseless fool, I’ll speak to the man myself. Dallas! Will Dallas!” cried she, throwing her voice shrilly along the passage, towards the kitchen. “Come this way, Will Dallas, and let me hear your news from your own mouth!”
“Comin’ mem!” cried the travelling merchant, as he appeared limping along the passage, by no means sorry to be thus called on to unbuckle his budget of news, which he was always ready to dispose of at a much cheaper rate than he generally sold his goods.
“Where have you come from, Will Dallas?” cried the Pensassenach; “and what news have ye got?”
“Weel, ye see, mem, I hae come straught frae Speymooth, as fast as my heavy pack and this happity lamiter leg o’ mine wad let me,” replied Dallas. “And my pack’s very heavy yee noo, for I’ve got a grand new stock o’ gudes in’t.”
“Well, well! never mind your goods at present!” cried the impatient Pensassenach; “quick! quick! what news have you?”
“Od, mem, it wad at no rate do for me no to mind my goods at a’ times and at a’ saisins,” said Dallas. “But touching the news, mem,—the Duke, mem—that is, the Duke o’ Cummerland, I mean, crossed the Spey yesterday wi’ a’ his airmy.”
“Is it possible?” cried the Pensassenach, her eyes sparkling with delight.
“It’s quite true, mem, for I seed the whole tott o’ them yefeck the passage wi’ my ain een,” said Dallas.