looking at a projecting surface, we seem to conceive a livid kind of lustre bubbling and boiling out of the sun's rays: the man at length dived from the view of St. Clyde, who, when he had collected his wandering intellect, and mustered the powers of resolution, turning round quickly at a rustling he heard behind him, fixed his eyes on Sandy Glass. Glass was curiosity's self to see, to speak to, and, if he could, to shake hands with his "auld friend Carr." Grief and care, the sudden transition from the one man to the other, but, above all, the re-action of former scenes on this interview with John Carr, standing alone on a lonely open muir, and suddenly seeing a being he could not be very desirous to meet with at such a time-this being darting upon him like the dæmon of terror; in short, the numberless objects that crowded on his view and obscured his intellect, gave an exquisitely romantic tone to the shapeless and indistinct picture which occupied St. Clyde's mind. Glass cast his eyes on him as on a supernatural being. The murky darkness of Glass's mind, the indescribable eye, look, and attitude of St. Clyde, fixed the poor lad to the spot on which he stood; and reciprocally Glass, upon the first glance, was altogether indescribable to St. Clyde, who first broke silence: "Is it you, Glass?"-" Ay is't, sir, e'en mysel; And there was nae man that did her see, "Glass, what do you say, what do you do here? I'm glad to see you, but you should not have come here now. You must have seen I was en gaged, and you must know, that to come before any person when engaged with another upon any business, is to behave very rudely." Sandy was devotion's self to this lecture on propriety; and retreating backwards about two toises, whilst in this retrograde movement of his huge bulk, he gave evident symptoms of an inward struggle between respect and vengeance; for he seemed to draw up his whole body, and to coil his wrath and strength in one heap; but St. Clyde did not allow him to spend himself as his gathering brows and puckered mouth intimated; he advanced to Glass with a dreadful load of passion in his eye. Poor Glass shrunk in an instant, and with the most fawning caresses strove, by kissing his hand, drawing back, first his right leg, then his left, whilst the movements of both might be traced on the heath; and his right hand, in which he held his bonnet, kept time to his limbs, by an oblique flourish that was the harbinger of a motion of his head alone, something in the same manner as one sees the Chinese figures in a grocer's shop nod the significant nod of a Tao-see, in the presence of an old mandarin. St. Clyde having conquered Glass," and soothed him into confidence by a speech very opposite to the other one, now heard another portion of his poesy: "Has she got consent frae her father dear, And likewise frae her minister, As the primrose spreads sae sweetly?" What he might mean by reciting these verses, it was not permitted St. Clyde to know; for Glass went on "An' O she had a gracefu' mien, Sae young she looked like beauty's queen ;* An' the lady turned her head aside, As the primrose spreads sae sweetly. verses. Bute. It was to no purpose that St. Clyde strove to get an illustration of these He knew Eliza had been at He knew Levingstone was now in Bute. And to whom to ap ply the rhyme of Glass, or whether to think it had been recited in honour of either of the visitors, he could not tell; and Glass did not give him time to make any further inquiry. A man on horseback at the skirts of the muir attracted his attention; it was Andrew Gillies; and, making a huge bow to St. Clyde, for he now bent his body and pushed his right leg out, till both body and limb were in one plane ob |