The hint of the hospitable farmer was not lost on Brown. But, while he paid his reckoning, he could not avoid repeatedly fixing Iris eyes on Meg Merrilies. She was, in all respects, the same witch-like figure as when we first introduced her at Ellangowan Place. Time had grizzled her raven locks, and added wrinkles to her wild features, but her height remained erect, and her activity was unimpaired. It was remarked of this woman, as of others of the same description, that a life of action, though not of labour, gave her the perfect command of her limbs and figure, so that the attitudes into which she most naturally threw herself, were free, unconstrained, and picturesque. At present, she stood by the window of the cottage, her person drawn up so as to show to full advantage her masculine stature, and her head somewhat thrown back, that the large bonnet, with which her face was shrouded, might not interrupt her steady gaze at Brown. At every gesture he made, and every tone he uttered, she seemed to give an almost imperceptible start. On his part, he was surprised to find that he could not look upon this singular figure without some emotion. "Have I dreamed of such a figure?" he said to himself, "or does this wild and singular-looking woman recall to my recollection some of the strange figures I have seen in our Indian pagodas?" While he embarrassed himself with these discussions, and the hostess was engaged in rummaging out silver in change of half a guinea, the gipsy suddenly made two strides, and seized Brown's hand. He expected, of course, a display of her skill in palmistry, but she seemed agitated by other feelings. "Tell me," she said, 'I tell me, in the name of God, young man, what is your name, and whence you came?" "My name is Brown, mother, and I come from the East Indies." "From the East Indies!" dropping his hand with a sigh; "it cannot be then--I am such an auld fool, that everything I look on seems the thing I want maist to see. But the East Indies! that cannot be--Weel, be what ye will, ye hae a face and a tongue that puts me in mind of auld times. Good-day--make haste on your road, and if ye see ony of our folk, meddle not and make not, and they'll do you nae harm." Brown, who had by this time received his change, put a shilling into her hand, bade his hostess farewell, and, taking the route which the farmer had gone before, walked briskly on, with the advantage of being guided by the fresh hoof-prints of his horse. Meg Merrilies looked after him for some time, and then muttered to herself, "I maun see that lad again--and I maun gang back to Ellangowan too.--The Laird's dead--aweel, death pays a' scores--he was a kind man ance.--The Sheriffs flitted, and I can keep canny in the bush--so there's no muckle hazard o' scouring the cramp-ring. [*To scour the cramp-ring, is said metaphorically for being thrown into fetters, or, generally, into prison.]--I would like to see bonny Ellangowan again or I die."