apout, look apout, and take care how you'll pe leading her."

Malcolm looked about, and replied, pressing Duncan's arm, and
speaking in a low voice, far less audible than his whisper,

"There's naebody near, daddy--naebody but the howdie wife."

"What howdie wife do you mean, Malcolm?"

"Hoot! Mistress Catanach, ye ken. Dinna lat her hear ye."

"I had a feeshion, Malcolm--one moment, and no more; ta darkness
closed arount it: I saw a ped, Malcolm, and--"

"Wheesht, wheesht; daddy!" pleaded Malcolm importunately. "She hears
ilka word ye're sayin'. She's awfu' gleg, and she's as poozhonous
as an edder. Haud yer tongue, daddy; for guid sake haud yer tongue."

The old man yielded, grasping Malcolm's arm, and quickening his
pace, though his breath came hard, as through the gathering folds
of asthma. Mrs. Catanach also quickened her pace, and came gliding
along the grass by the side of the road, noiseless as the adder
to which Malcolm had likened her, and going much faster than she
seemed. Her great round body looked a persistent type of her calling,
and her arms seemed to rest in front of her as upon a ledge. In one
hand she carried a small bible, round which was folded her pocket
handkerchief, and in the other a bunch of southernwood and rosemary.
She wore a black silk gown, a white shawl, and a great straw bonnet
with yellow ribbons in huge bows, and looked the very pattern of
Sunday respectability; but her black eyebrows gloomed ominous, and