"
The old man yielded, grasping Malcolm's arm, and quickening his
pace, though his breath came hard, as through the gathering folds
of asthma. Mrs. Catanach also quickened her pace, and came gliding
along the grass by the side of the road, noiseless as the adder
to which Malcolm had likened her, and going much faster than she
seemed. Her great round body looked a persistent type of her calling,
and her arms seemed to rest in front of her as upon a ledge. In one
hand she carried a small bible, round which was folded her pocket
handkerchief, and in the other a bunch of southernwood and rosemary.
She wore a black silk gown, a white shawl, and a great straw bonnet
with yellow ribbons in huge bows, and looked the very pattern of
Sunday respectability; but her black eyebrows gloomed ominous, and
an evil smile shadowed about the corners of her mouth as she passed
without turning her head or taking the least notice of them. Duncan
shuddered, and breathed yet harder, but seemed to recover as she
increased the distance between them. They walked the rest of the
way in silence, however; and even after they reached home, Duncan
made no allusion to his late discomposure.
"What was't ye thocht ye saw, as we cam frae the kirk, daddy?" asked
Malcolm when they were seated at their dinner of broiled mackerel
and boiled potatoes.
"In other times she'll pe hafing such feeshions often, Malcolm,
my son," he returned, avoiding an answer. "Like other pards of her
race she would pe seeing--in the speerit, where old Tuncan can
see.
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