Poor old Janet,
bent double with age and bleared with peat-smoke, was tottering about the
hut with a birch broom, muttering to herself as she endeavoured to make
her hearth and floor a little clean for the reception of her expected
guests. Waverley's step made her start, look up, and fall a-trembling, so
much had her nerves been on the rack for her patron's safety. With
difficulty Waverley made her comprehend that the Baron was now safe from
personal danger; and when her mind had admitted that joyful news, it was
equally hard to make her believe that he was not to enter again upon
possession of his estate. 'It behoved to be,' she said, 'he wad get it
back again; naebody wad be sae gripple as to tak his gear after they had
gi'en him a pardon: and for that Inch-Grabbit, I could whiles wish mysell
a witch for his sake, if I werena feared the Enemy wad tak me at my
word.' Waverley then gave her some money, and promised that her fidelity
should be rewarded. 'How can I be rewarded, sir, sae weel as just to see
my auld maister and Miss Rose come back and bruik their ain?'
Waverley now took leave of Janet, and soon stood beneath the Baron's
Patmos.
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