"She—she's—weel," gasped Willie, bewildered; "that is—I—I hope—I trust—that—oh, losh, Mr Blackett, I dinna ken whare I am, nor what I am saying, for my brain is as daized as a body's that is driven owre wi' a drift, and rowed amang the snaw! Has there been onybody buried here lately?"
"Mr Galloway!—Mr Galloway!" exclaimed Henry, half-choked with agitation, and wringing his hand in his, while the perspiration burst upon his brow—"in the name of wretchedness—what—what do you mean?"
"Oh, dinna speak to me!" said Willie, waving his hand; "ask that auld man."
"Jonathan?" exclaimed Henry.
"I don't know what the gentleman means," said the old man; "but no one has been buried here since your honoured mother, and that is four years ago."
"And whase grave—whase grave did ye bring me to look at?" inquired Willie, eagerly.
"My lady's," answered he.
"Yer leddy's!" returned Willie—"do you mean Mr Blackett's mother?"
"Whom else could I mean?" asked old Jonathan, in a tone of wonder.
"Wha else could you mean!" repeated Willie; "then, be thankit! she's no dead!—ye say she's no dead!" and he literally leapt for joy.