“It is believed to be an honourable profession, my good dame; I hope you do not think the worse of me for having belonged to it?”
“I judge no one, sir,” replied the woman, “and your voice sounds like that of a civil gentleman; but I hae witnessed sae muckle ill wi’ sodgering in this puir land that I am e’en content that I can see nae mair o’t wi’ these sightless organs.”
As she spoke thus, Morton observed that she was blind.
“Shall I not be troublesome to you, my good dame?” said he, compassionately; “your infirmity seems ill calculated for your profession.”
“Na, sir,” answered the old woman, “I can gang about the house readily eneugh; and I hae a bit lassie to help me, and the dragoon lads will look after your horse when they come hame frae their patrol, for a sma’ matter; they are civiller now than lang syne.”
Upon these assurances, Morton alighted.
“Peggy, my bonny bird,” continued the hostess, addressing a little girl of twelve years old, who had by this time appeared, “tak the gentleman’s horse to the stable, and slack his girths, and tak aff the bridle, and shake down a lock o’ hay before him, till the dragoons come back.—Come this way, sir,” she continued; “ye’ll find my house clean, though it’s a puir ane.”
Morton followed her into the cottage accordingly.
CHAPTER XXI.
Then out and spake the auld mother,
And fast her tears did fa
“Ye wadna be warn’d, my son Johnie,
Frae the hunting to bide awa!”
Old Ballad.