“Ow, aboot that lang-leggit doctor ’at set oot for the Ingies, an’ dee’d afore he wan across the equautor. Only fouk said he was nae mair deid nor a halvert worm, an’ wad be hame whan she was merried.” “It’s a’ lees frae heid to fut, an’ frae hert to skin.” “Weel, it was plain to see she dwyned awa efter he gaed, an’ never was hersel’ again--ye dinna deny that?” “It’s a’ havers,” persisted Miss Horn, but in accents considerably softened. “She cared na mair aboot the chield nor I did mysel’. She dwyned, I grant ye, an’ he gaed awa, I grant ye; but the win’ blaws an’ the water rins, an the tane has little to du wi’ the tither.” “Weel, weel; I’m sorry I said onything to offen’ ye, an’ I canna say mair. Wi’ yer leave, Miss Horn, I’ll jist gang an’ tak’ a last leuk at her, puir thing!” “’Deed, ye s’ du naething o’ the kin’! I s’ lat naebody glower at her ’at wad gang an spairge sic havers aboot her, Mistress Mellis. To say ’at sic a doo as my Grizel--puir, saft-hertit, winsome thing-- wad hae lookit twise at ony sic a serpent as him! Na, na, mem! Gang yer wa’s hame, an’ come back straucht frae yer prayers the morn’s mornin’. By that time she’ll be quaiet in her coffin, an’ I’ll be quaiet i’ my temper. Syne I’ll lat ye see her--maybe.--I wuss I was weel rid o’ the sicht o’ her, for I canna bide it. Lord, I canna bide it.” These last words were uttered in a murmured aside, inaudible to Mrs Mellis, to whom, however, they did not apply, but to the dead body. She rose notwithstanding in considerable displeasure, and with a formal farewell walked from the room, casting a curious glance as she left it in the direction of that where the body lay, and descended the stairs as slowly as if on every step she deliberated whether the next would bear her weight. Miss Horn, who had followed her to the head of the stair, watched her out of sight below the landing, when she turned and walked back once more into the parlour, but with a lingering look towards the opposite room, as if she saw through the closed door what lay white on the white bed. “It’s a God’s mercy I hae no feelin’s,” she said to herself. “To even (_equal_) my bonny Grizel to sic a lang kyte-clung chiel as yon! Aih, puir Grizel! She’s gane frae me like a knotless threid.” CHAPTER II. BARBARA CATANACH. Miss Horn was interrupted by the sound of the latch of the street door, and sprung from her chair in anger. “Canna they lat her sleep for five meenutes?” she cried aloud, forgetting that there was no fear of rousing her any more.--“It’ll be Jean come in frae the pump,” she reflected, after a moment’s pause; but, hearing no footstep along the passage to the kitchen, concluded--“It’s no her, for _she_ gangs aboot the hoose like the fore half o’ a new-shod cowt;” and went down the stair to see who might have thus presumed to enter unbidden.