"But, sir," inquired the old man, tremulously, "do you know where to find him?"
"I expect to find him, by this time, at his father's house."
"Alas!" answered the old domestic, "there has been no one at the priory for more than twelve months. I don't know where the old knight is. Henry has not been here since he went to Edinburgh, and that is nigh to five years gone now."
"Ye dumfounder me, auld man," exclaimed Willie; "but where, in the name o' guidness, where's the wife?—where's Mrs Blackett?"
"You will mean your countrywoman, I suppose," said the other.
"To be sure I mean her," said Willie—"wha else could I mean?"
"Ah! wo is me!" sighed his companion, and he burst into tears as he spoke, "dost see the churchyard, just before us?—and they have raised no stone to mark the spot."
"Dead!" ejaculated Willie, becoming pale with horror, and fixing upon his fellow-pedestrian a look of agony—"Ye dinna say—dead!"
"Even so!—even so!" said the old domestic, sobbing aloud.
"And hoo was it?" cried Willie; "was it a fair strae death—or just grief, puir thing—just grief?"