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A Legend of Montrose-Part13_WALTER SCOTT(1771-1832)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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their night-gear--their plaids their bed-clothes--the blue sky

their canopy, and the heather their couch.--Come a thousand more,



and they would not quarrel on the broad heath for want of room!"

"Allan is right," said his brother; "it is very odd how Allan,



who, between ourselves," said he to Musgrave, "is a little wowf,

[WOWF, i.e. crazed.] seems at times to have more sense than us



all put together. Observe him now."

"Yes" continued Allan, fixing his eyes with a ghastly stare upon



the opposite side of the hall, "they may well begin as they are

to end; many a man will sleep this night upon the heath, that



when the Martinmas wind shalt blow shall lie there stark enough,

and reck little of cold or lack of covering."



"Do not forespeak us, brother," said Angus; "that is not lucky."

"And what luck is it then that you expect?" said Allan; and



straining his eyes until they almost started from their sockets,

he fell with a convulsive shudder into the arms of Donald and his



brother, who, knowing the nature of his fits, had come near to

prevent his fall. They seated him upon a bench, and supported



him until he came to himself, and was about to speak.

For God's sake, Allan," said his brother, who knew the impression



his mystical words were likely to make on many of the guests,

"say nothing to discourage us."



"Am I he who discourages you?" said Allan; "let every man face

his weird as I shall face mine. That which must come, will come;



and we shall stride gallantly over many a field of victory, ere

we reach yon fatal slaughter-place, or tread yon sable



scaffolds."

"What slaughter-place? what scaffolds?" exclaimed several



voices; for Allan's renown as a seer was generally established in

the Highlands.



"You will know that but too soon," answered Allan. "Speak to me

no more, I am weary of your questions." He then pressed his hand



against his brow, rested his elbow upon his knee, and sunk into a

deep reverie.



Send for Annot Lyle, and the harp," said Angus, in a whisper, to

his servant; "and let those gentlemen follow me who do not fear a



Highland breakfast."

All accompanied their hospitablelandlord excepting only Lord



Menteith, who lingered in one of the deep embrasures formed by

the windows of the hall. Annot Lyle shortly after glided into



the room, not ill described by Lord Menteith as being the

lightest and most fairy figure that ever trode the turf by



moonlight. Her stature, considerably less than the ordinary size

of women, gave her the appearance of extreme youth, insomuch,



that although she was near eighteen, she might have passed for

four years younger. Her figure, hands, and feet, were formed



upon a model of exquisite symmetry with the size and lightness of

her person, so that Titania herself could scarce have found a



more fitting representative. Her hair was a dark shade of the

colour usually termed flaxen, whose clustering ringlets suited



admirably with her fair complexion, and with the playful, yet

simple, expression of her features. When we add to these charms,



that Annot, in her orphan state, seemed the gayest and happiest

of maidens, the reader must allow us to claim for her the



interest of almost all who looked on her. In fact, it was

impossible to find a more universal favourite, and she often came



among the rude inhabitants of the castle, as Allan himself, in a

poetical mood, expressed it, "like a sunbeam on a sullen sea,"



communicating to all others the cheerfulness that filled her own

mind.



Annot, such as we have described her, smiled and blushed, when,

on entering the apartment, Lord Menteith came from his place of



retirement, and kindly wished her good-morning.

"And good-morning to you, my lord," returned she, extending her



hand to her friend; "we have seldom seen you of late at the

castle, and now I fear it is with no peaceful purpose."



"At least, let me not interrupt your harmony, Annot," said Lord

Menteith, "though my arrival may breed discordelsewhere. My



cousin Allan needs the assistance of your voice and music."

"My preserver," said Annot Lyle, "has a right to my poor



exertions; and you, too, my lord,--you, too, are my preserver,

and were the most active to save a life that is worthless enough,



unless it can benefit my protectors."

So saying, she sate down at a little distance upon the bench on






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