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"His feyace was long, but weel-faured, and darker nor a gipsy; and his clothes were black and grand, and made o' velvet, and he said he was the young lord himsel'; and he lukt like it." "That will be the same fella I sid at Deadman's Grike," said Mall Carke, with an anxious frown. "Hoot, mudder! how cud that be?" cried the lass, with a toss of her pretty head and a smile of scorn.

I lukt and what m' eyes lukt upon froze me blood like icicles hingin' frum th' thatch. It was a woman in a white shift, young an' beautiful, wid hair stramin' down her back. She sat on th' wall wid her head in her han's keenin' an' moanin': 'Ochone, ochone! I thried to spake but m' tongue cluv t' th' roof ov m' mouth. I thried t' move a han' but it wudn't budge.

And the same fella telt me he was mad in luv wi' me, and his fadder was there, and his sister, and they came all the way from Catstean Castle to see me that night; and that's t' other side o' Gouden Friars." "Come, lass, yer no mafflin; tell me true. What was he like? Was his feyace grimed wi' sut? a tall fella wi' wide shouthers, and lukt like an ill-thing, wi' black clothes amaist in rags?"

"Did ye see him since?" asked Mother Carke, returning. The girl was still embarrassed; and now she spoke in a lower tone, and seemed subdued. "I thought I sid him as I came here, walkin' beside me among the trees; but I consait it was only the trees themsels that lukt like rinnin' one behind another, as I walked on."

"'Don't palaver, says she, an' she lukt terrible serious. "'My God, Anna, says I, 'ye wudn't be lavin' me alone, says I, 'I can't thole it. "'Yer more strong, says she, 'an' ye'll live till he comes back thin we'll be t'gether." He stopped there. He could go no farther for several minutes. "I hate a maan that gowls, but "