The charms of the beautiful Annie Laurie live yet in Scottish song, though the name and memory of the gallant lover whose muse embalmed them is all but forgotten.
Tall and fair, with a face of the most perfect loveliness, she had eyes of the darkest blue, shaded by long black lashes, cheeks tinged with red like a peach by the morning sun, and bright auburn hair rolling in heavy curls over a slender and delicate neck, imparting a graceful negligence to the dignity of her fine figure. Her whole features possessed a matchless expression of sweetness and vivacity; her nose was the slightest approach to aquiline; her lips were short and full; her profile eminently noble. A broad beaver hat, tied with coquettish ease, and adorned by one long ostrich feather drooping over her right shoulder, formed her head-gear; while a dress of light-blue silk, with the sleeves puffed and slashed with white satin, and white gloves of Blois fastened by gold bracelets, formed part of her attire. She carried a pretty heavy riding-switch, which completed the jaunty, piquant, and saucy character of her air and beauty.
The young ladies were walking together, and Lilian hung on the arm of her taller friend; while her cavalier was alternately by the side of each.
Though loving Lilian, he conversed quite as much--perhaps more--with her gay companion, whose prattle and laughter were incessant; for Annie invariably made it a rule to talk nonsense when nothing better occurred to her. Walter treated both with the utmost tenderness, but Lilian with the greatest respect: he now felt truly what Finland had often averred, "that the girl one loves is greater than an empress."
"And so," Mr. Fenton, said Annie, continuing her incessant raillery, "is it true that a party of Dunbarton's braves were out at the House-of-Linn yesterday, dragooning the poor cottars to pray for King James, to ban the Covenant, and all that?"
"It is but too true, I fear. Indeed, I was on that duty, and at the Richardson's Barony of Cramond too."
"Oh, such valour!--to terrify women and children, and drive the poor millers and fishers away; to stop the mills, break the dams, spoil the nets, and sink the boats. Fie upon you! Don't come near me, sir. Alas for the warriors of the great Condé, how sadly they are degenerating! Oh! Mr. Fenton, we positively blush for you: do we not, gossip Lilian?"