Douglas, who, in the country phrase, was a very
douce, decent sort of an old body, and the widow of a Cameronian
minister. In the summer season Mrs. Douglas let out her little parlour
to lodgers, who visited the village to seek health, or for a few weeks'
retirement. She was compelled to do this from the narrowness of her
circumstances; for, though she was a "clever-handed woman," as her
neighbours said, "she had a sair fecht to keep up an appearance onyway
like the thing ava." In a few minutes Mrs. Douglas, in a clean cap, a
muslin kerchief round her neck, a quilted black bombazine gown, and
snow-white apron, followed the landlady up to the inn. In a short time
she returned, the stranger lady leaning upon her arm, and the lovely
child leaping like a young lamb before them. Days and weeks passed away,
and the good people of Thorndean, notwithstanding all their surmises and
inquiries, were no wiser regarding their new visitor; all they could
learn was, that she was the widow of a young officer, who was one of the
first that fell when Britain interfered with the French Revolution; and
the mother and her child became known in the village by the designation
of "Mrs.
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