"Then," cried she, and wept, "the days o' my winsome Willie are numbered, and his death is determined on; for often has Sir Gideon declared he would gie a' the lands o' Elibank for his head. My Willie is my only son, my first-born, and my heart's hope and treasure; and, oh, if I lose him now, if I shall never again hear his kindly voice say '_mother_!' nor stroke down his yellow hair--wi' him that has made me sonless I shall hae a day o' lang and fearfu' reckoning; cauld shall be the hearth-stane in the house o' many a Murray, and loud their lamentation." Her daughters wept with her for their brother's fate; but they wist not how to comfort her; and, while they sat mingling their tears together, it was announced to them that a humble maiden, bearing a message from the captive laird, desired to speak with her. "Show her in!--take me to her!" cried the mother, impatiently. "Where is she?--what does she say?--or what does my Willie say?" And the maiden who has been mentioned as having visited the laird in his prison, was ushered into her presence. "Come to me, lassie--come and tell me a'," cried the old lady; "what message does Willie Scott send to his heart-broken mother?" "He has sent you this bit packet, ma'am," replied the bearer; "and I shall be right glad to take back to him whatever answer ye may hae to send." "And wha are ye, young woman?" inquired the lady, "that speaks sae kindly to a mother, an' takes an interest in the fate o' my Willie?" "A despised lassie," was the reply; "but ane that would risk her ain life to save either yours or his." "Bless you for the words!" replied Lady Scott, as she broke the seal of her son's letter, and read:-- "My mother, my honoured mother,--Fate has delivered me into the power of Murray of Elibank, the enemy of our house. He has doomed me to death, and I die to-morrow; but sit not down to mourn for me, and uselessly to wring the hands and tear the hair; but rouse every Scott upon the Borders to rise up and be my avenger. If ye bewail the loss o' a son, let them spare o' the Murrays neither son nor daughter. Rouse ye, and let a mother's vengeance nerve your arm! Poor Simon o' Yarrow-foot is to be my companion in death, and he whines to meet his fate with the weakness of a woman, and yearns a perpetual yearning for his wife and bairns. On that account I forgie him the want o' heart and determination which he manifests; but see ye to them, and take care that they be provided for. As for me, I shall meet my doom wi' disdain for my enemy in my eyes and on my tongue. Even in death he shall feel that I despise him; and a proof o' this I have given him already; for he has offered to save my life, providing I would marry his daughter, Meikle-mouthed Meg. But I have scorned his proposal."----