One cloudy November evening, a young traveller, Guy Mannering by name, just come from the University of Oxford, was making his way with difficulty over the wild and lonely moorland which extended for many miles on the outskirts of the village. He had lost the road to Kippletringan, whither he was bound, but was lucky enough to find a guide to conduct him there before he had gone completely astray; and late at night he arrived at Godfrey Bertram's house, where he was hospitably welcomed by the owner. Supper was got ready, a good bottle of wine was opened, and the laird and the dominic and Guy Mannering were enjoying themselves comfortably, when the conversation was interrupted by the shrill voice of someone coming upstairs.
"It's Meg Merrilies, the gipsy, as sure as I'm a sinner," said Mr. Bertram; and, as the door opened, a tall woman, full six feet high, with weather-beaten features and hair as black as midnight, stepped into the room.
Her appearance was altogether of so strange a kind, that it made Mannering start.

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