I shall next notice the confession of Susan. Clennel promised her forgiveness if she would confess the whole truth; and he doubted not, that from her he would also obtain tidings of his son, and learn where he might find him, if he yet lived. I shall give her story in her own words. "When I came amongst you," she began, "I said that I was an orphan, and I told ye truly, so far as I knew myself. I have been reared amongst the people ye call gipsies from infancy. They fed me before I could provide for myself. I have wandered with them through many lands. They taught me many things; and, while young, sent me as a servant into families, that I might gather information to assist them in upholding their mysteries of fortune-telling, I dared not to disobey them--they kept me as their slave--and I knew that they would destroy my life for an act of disobedience. I was in London when ye cruelly burned down the bit town between the Keyhaugh and Clovencrag. That night would have been your last, but Elspeth Faa vowed more cruel vengeance than death on you and yours. After our king had carried away your son, I was ordered from London to assist in the plot o' revenge. I at length succeeded in getting into your family, and the rest ye know. When ye were a' busy wi' your company, I slipped into the woods wi' the bairn in my arms, where others were ready to meet us; and long before ye missed us, we were miles across the hills, and frae that day to this your daughter has passed as mine." "But tell me all, woman," cried Clennel, "as you hope for either pardon or protection--where is my son, my little Harry? Does he live?--where shall I find him?" "As I live," replied Susan, "I cannot tell. There are but two know concerning him--and that is the king and his wife Elspeth; and there is but one way of discovering anything respecting him, which is by crossing Elspeth's loof, that she may betray her husband; and she would do it for revenge's sake, for an ill husband has he been to her, and in her old days he has discarded her for another." "And where may she be found?" inquired Clennel, earnestly. "That," added Susan, "is a question I cannot answer. She was with the people in the glen to-day, and was first to raise the laugh when your dog fastened its teeth in the flesh of your ain bairn. But she may be far to seek and ill to find now--for she is wi' those that travel fast and far, and that will not see her hindmost." Deep was the disappointment of the laird when he found he could obtain no tidings of his son. But, at the intercession of his daughter (whose untutored mind her fond mother had begun to instruct), Susan was freely pardoned, promised protection from her tribe, and again admitted as one of the household.