shadow of himself, now advancing one foot, now the other, now
stooping and wriggling his shoulders, now fumbling with the
buttons of his waistcoat, now clasping his hands together; in
short, he was the picture of a mean-spirited, shuffling rascal in
the very agonies of detection. To these appearances Bertram was
totally inattentive, being dragged on as it were by the current of
his own associations. Indeed, although he addressed Glossin, he
was not so much thinking of him as arguing upon the embarrassing
state of his own feelings and recollection. 'Yes,' he said, 'I
preserved my language among the sailors, most of whom spoke
English, and when I could get into a corner by myself I used to
sing all that song over from beginning to end; I have forgot it
all now, but I remember the tune well, though I cannot guess what
should at present so strongly recall it to my memory.'

He took his flageolet from his pocket and played a simple melody.
Apparently the tune awoke the corresponding associations of a
damsel who, close beside a fine spring about halfway down the
descent, and which had once supplied the castle with water, was
engaged in bleaching linen. She immediately took up the song:--

'Are these the Links of Forth, she said,
Or are they the crooks of Dee,
Or the bonnie woods of Warroch Head
That I so fain would see?'

'By heaven,' said Bertram, 'it is the very ballad! I must learn
these words from the girl.'

'Confusion!' thought Glossin; 'if I cannot put a stop to this all