Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume XII Part 25

"Oh, she's safe at the end o' her journey," replied Archy, wi' a kind o'

laugh that sounded unco like a groan.

"Puir body," said Nance, "she maun hae been sair wearied; but, Archy, ye maun hae been maist blawn awa wi' that awesome wind."

"What wind?" said Archy; "there wasna ony wind; it was as lown as a simmer day."

"Oh, man, ye dinna say sae! Aboot twa hours after ye left this, there cam on sic a storm, that I thocht the house wad come doun on my head, and----"

"Twa hours," said Archy; and he turned as white's a clout, and the cauld sweat stood on his face.

"Mercy on us, Archy," said the wife, "what ails ye? Ane wad think he'd heard that awfu wind yersel; it maist frichtened me to death. It was for a' the warld, whan it first beguid, like the groans and moans o' a deein body."

"Haud yer whisht, woman," said Archy, very short-like; "its no canny to talk o' sic things. Hae, tak my coat, and pit it awa i' the kist."

"'Odsake, Archy!" cried Nance, haudin the coat to the licht; "what in Gude's name, is this that's on't--Its bluid! Where got ye that?"

"Ou," said Archy, "there was a man killin a muckle sou in Tarras, and he cried to me to help him, and I didna mind that I'd gotten a guid coat to my back."

"Weel, that beats a'! Here's ane o' the bonny rings the leddy had on her fingers in yer pocket! How cam ye by that?"

"What's your business, woman?" said Archy, wi' an oath. "Did I no tell ye afore, that the leddy was safe and sound at her journey's end? She wad insist on giein me the ring, to keep for my kindness to her."

"Did she no send ony word back by ye?"

"Ay, she thankit ye for yer kindness, and said she'd send ye word when she got to the far end----But it'll be long or that," muttered Archy to himsel.

Weeks and months gaed by, but still nae word cam o' the leddy; and puir Nance was wae for her; for she dreaded something uncommon had happened her. Archy gaed to Embro', and cam back wi' siller, and a lang story how an auld friend had died, and left him a hantle money.

The leddy was never heard tell o' again--she had nae kith nor kin to speer after her--she cam like a dream, and vanished like ane; but there's a stane on the banks o' Tarras, wi' a mark upon it that o' the storms and floods o' years heena been able to wash oot--it's the mark o'

blood; and aft sin syne the figure o' a leddy, o' dressed in white, has been seen wanderin in the mirk or the bright moonlicht, and aye vanishin like a flaff o' lichtnin. A sober man may pa.s.s the Tarras a hundred times, and see nought; but, after a Langholm hiring-day, or a July fair, if a man hae taen twa-three cheerers forbye common, he's maist sure to see the WHITE LEDDY O' TARRAS!

END OF VOL. XII