Cuddie Headrigg alone remained
an instant behind his companions to take an affectionate farewell of
Jenny Dennison, who had contrived, during this short morning's ride, to
re-establish her influence over his susceptible bosom. A straggling tree
or two obscured, rather than concealed, their /tete-a-tete/, as they
halted their horses to bid adieu.
"Fare ye weel, Jenny," said Cuddie, with a loud exertion of his lungs,
intended perhaps to be a sigh, but rather resembling the intonation of a
groan,--"Ye'll think o' puir Cuddie sometimes--an honest lad that lo'es
ye, Jenny; ye'll think o' him now and then?"
"Whiles--at brose-time," answered the malicious damsel, unable either to
suppress the repartee, or the arch smile which attended it.
[Illustration: Whiles--at Brose-Time--pa098]
Cuddie took his revenge as rustic lovers are wont, and as Jenny probably
expected,--caught his mistress round the neck, kissed her cheeks and lips
heartily, and then turned his horse and trotted after his master.
"Deil's in the fallow," said Jenny, wiping her lips and adjusting her
head-dress, "he has twice the spunk o' Tam Halliday, after a'.--Coming,
my leddy, coming--Lord have a care o' us, I trust the auld leddy didna
see us!"
"Jenny," said Lady Margaret, as the damsel came up, "was not that young
man who commanded the party the same that was captain of the popinjay,
and who was afterwards prisoner at Tillietudlem on the morning
Claverhouse came there?"
Jenny, happy that the query had no reference to her own little matters,
looked at her young mistress, to discover, if possible, whether it was
her cue to speak truth or not.
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