Allan hastened to look upon it, with eyes of gloomy apprehension; it
bore, in enamel, a death's head above two crossed daggers. When Allan
recognised the device, he uttered a sigh so deep, that she dropped the
ring from her hand, which rolled upon the floor. Lord Menteith picked it
up, and returned it to the terrified Annot.

"I take God to witness," said Allan, in a solemn tone, "that your hand,
young lord, and not mine, has again delivered to her this ill-omened
gift. It was the mourning ring worn by my mother in memorial of her
murdered brother."

"I fear no omens," said Annot, smiling through her tears; "and nothing
coming through the hands of my two patrons," so she was wont to call
Lord Menteith and Allan, "can bring bad luck to the poor orphan."

She put the ring on her finger, and, turning to her harp, sung, to a
lively air, the following verses of one of the fashionable songs of
the period, which had found its way, marked as it was with the quaint
hyperbolical taste of King Charles's time, from some court masque to the
wilds of Perthshire:--

"Gaze not upon the stars, fond sage,
In them no influence lies;
To read the fate of youth or age,
Look on my Helen's eyes.

"Yet, rash astrologer, refrain!
Too dearly would be won
The prescience of another's pain,
If purchased by thine own."