“Young lady nearly fainted, ma’am, at some accounts I was giving her of the Highlands, ma’am. I’m waiter here, ma’am; and it’s part of my business, ma’am, to give all sorts of information to the English families as they pass through the city, ma’am.”
“And what were you a-telling of to this young lady?”
“Only a few incidents that occasionally happen in such wild scenes as Fash-na-Cairn or Ben-na-Groich. They say the new Ben-na-Groich is an English nobleman, with a very handsome sister;—I was merely telling this young lady here what would probably be the fate of the beautiful English-woman.”
“Gracious me!” exclaimed Miss Alice: “no wonder she fainted, poor thing. What was it? for mercy’s sake—what will they do to her?”
“Fash-na-Cairn and all his clan have been at war for hundreds of years with Ben-na-Groich. He will probably lead a foray upon the new chief and carry off his sister.”
“Gracious! how old is this Fash-na-Cairn?”
“About five-and-twenty. He has buried his fifteenth wife. They seldom live more than three months.”
“Oh, Jane! Jane! we’re lost—ruined—murdered! Waiter, I’m the sister of Ben-na-Groich, the victim of Fash-na-Cairn!”
“Sorry, ma’am, I’ve alarmed you; but, perhaps, the friends of the clan may gather round Ben-na-Groich, and succeed in capturing Fash-na-Cairn.”
“And what then?” inquired Miss Alice, with a glimpse of hope.