An his honour winna believe the Leviticus, he might aye believe
the Statute-book; but he may tak his ain way o't--it's a' ane to Duncan
Macwheeble. However, I shall send to ask up auld Janet this e'en; it 's
best no to lightly them that have that character--and we'll want Davie
to turn the spit, for I'll gar Eppie put down a fat goose to the fire
for your honours to your supper.'
When it was near sunset, Waverley hastened to the hut; and he could not
but allow that superstition had chosen no improper locality, or unfit
object, for the foundation of her fantastic terrors. It resembled
exactly the description of Spenser:
There, in a gloomy hollow glen, she found.
A little cottage built of sticks and reeds,
In homely wise, and wall'd with sods around,
In which a witch did dwell in loathly weeds,
And wilful want, all careless of her needs;
So choosing solitary to abide
Far from all neighbours, that her devilish deeds,
And hellish arts, from people she might hide,
And hurt far off, unknown, whomsoever she espied.
He entered the cottage with these verses in his memory. 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.
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