"So, sir, she grippit him, and clodded [*Hurled] him like a stane from the sling ower the craigs of Warroch Head, where he was found that evening—but what became of the babe, frankly I cannot say. But he that was minister here then, that's now in a better place, had an opinion that the bairn was only conveyed to Fairyland for a season."
The stranger had smiled slightly at some parts of this recital, but ere he could answer, the clatter of a horse's hoofs was heard, and a smart servant, handsomely dressed, with a cockade in his hat, bustled into the kitchen, with "Make a little room, good people"; when, observing the stranger, he descended at once into the modest and civil domestic, his hat sunk down by his side, and he put a letter into his master's hands. "The family at Ellangowan, sir, are in great distress, and unable to receive any visits."
"I know it," replied his master.—"And now, madam, it you will have the goodness to allow me to occupy the parlour you mentioned, as you are disappointed of your guests—"
"Certainly, sir," said Mrs. Mac-Candlish, and hastened to light the way with all the imperative bustle which an active landlady loves to display on such occasions.
"Young man," said the Deacon to the servant, filling a glass, "ye'll no be the waur o' this, after your ride."
"Not a feather, sir,—thank ye—your very good health, sir."
"And wha may your master be, friend?"
"What, the gentleman that was here?—that's the famous Colonel
Mannering, sir, from the East Indies."
"What, him we read of in the newspapers?"
"Ay, ay, just the same. It was he relieved Cuddieburn, and defended Chingalore, and defeated the great Mahratta chief, Ram Jolli Bundleman—I was with him in most of his campaigns."