"Ay," replied the old man, "and as good as he was handsome. He is the pride of the house; and the country around yet rings with his name, associated with all that is kind and charitable." "And who is this lovely creature?" said I, now pointing in my turn to the portrait of a young female of the most exquisite beauty--the face strikingly resembling some of the best executed likenesses of the unfortunate Queen Mary--which hung beside that of the Good Earl of Wistonbury, as the nobleman of whom my cicerone had just spoken was called throughout the country. "That lady, sir," replied the latter, "was his wife--the Countess of Wistonbury. She was one of the most beautiful women of her time; and, like her husband, was beloved by all around her, for the gentleness of her manners and benevolence of her disposition." "But what's this?" said I, advancing a little nearer the picture, to examine something in her attire that puzzled me. "A Scotch plaid!" I exclaimed in considerable surprise, on ascertaining that this was the article of dress which had perplexed me. "Pray, what has the Scotch plaid to do here? How happens it that we find a Countess of Wistonbury arrayed in the costume of Caledonia?" "Why, sir, the reason is good--perfectly satisfactory," replied Mr. Grafton, smilingly. "She was a native of that country." "Indeed!" said I. "A countrywoman of mine! Of what family?" added I. My conductor smiled. "Truly," said he, after a pause, "that is a question easier put than answered." "What!" said I, "was she not of some distinguished house?" "By no means, sir," replied Mr. Grafton. "She was a person of the humblest birth and station; but this did not hinder her from becoming Countess of Wistonbury, nor from being one of the best as well as most beautiful that ever bore the title." "Ah, ha!" said I to myself, "here's a story for the 'Tales of the Borders.'" I did not say this to Mr. Grafton, however; but to him I did say--"There must be some interesting story connected with this lady. The history of her singular good fortune must be curious, and well worth hearing." "Why, it certainly is," replied my conductor, with the air of one who, while he cannot but acknowledge that there is interest in a certain piece of information which he possesses, is yet so familiar with it himself, has owned it so long, and communicated it so often, that his feelings seem to belie his words--the former remaining unmoved by the tale which the latter unfolds. "There is certainly something curious in the Countess's story," said Mr. Grafton; "and, now that we have seen everything that is worth seeing, if you will come with me to my little refectory, I will tell you all about it over a tankard of fine old ale and a slice of cold round."