Part 23 (2/2)

”'Deed, my lord, ye may comfort yersel' that they warna dishes wi barns (brains) i' them; for sic 's some scarce i' the Hoose o'

Lossie.”

”You're a long tongued rascal,” said the marquis.

”A lang tongue may whiles be as canny as a lang spune, my lord; an' ye ken what that's for?”

The marquis burst into laughter.

”What do you make then of that horrible cut in your own hand?”

asked the magistrate.

”I mak my ain business o' 't,” answered Malcolm.

While this colloquy pa.s.sed, Duncan had been feeling about for his pipes: having found them he clasped them to his bosom like a hurt child.

”Come home, come home,” he said; ”your own pard has refenched you.”

Malcolm took him by the arm and led him away. He went without a word, still clasping his wounded bagpipes to his bosom.

”You'll hear from me in the morning, my lad,” said the marquis in a kindly tone, as they were leaving the room.

”I hae no wuss to hear onything mair o' yer lords.h.i.+p. Ye hae done eneuch this nicht, my lord, to mak ye ashamed o' yersel' till yer dyin' day--gien ye hed ony pooer o' shame left in ye.”

The military youth muttered something about insolence, and made a step towards him. Malcolm quitted his grandfather, and stepped again into his room.

”Come on,” he said.

”No, no,” interposed the marquis. ”Don't you see the lad is hurt?”

”Lat him come on,” said Malcolm; ”I hae ae soon' han'. Here, my lord, tak the wapons, or the auld man 'll get a grip o' them again.”

”I tell you no,” shouted Lord Lossie. ”Fred, get out--will you!”

The young gentleman turned on his heel, and Malcolm led his grandfather from the house without further molestation. It was all he could do, however, to get him home. The old man's strength was utterly gone. His knees bent trembling under him, and the arm which rested on his grandson's shook as with an ague fit. Malcolm was glad indeed when at length he had him safe in bed, by which time his hand had swollen to a great size, and the suffering grown severe.

Thoroughly exhausted by his late fierce emotions, Duncan soon fell into a troubled sleep, whereupon Malcolm went to Meg Partan, and begged her to watch beside him until he should return, informing her of the way his grandfather had been treated, and adding that he had gone into such a rage, that he feared he would be ill in consequence; and if he should be unable to do his morning's duty, it would almost break his heart.

”Eh!” said the Partaness, in a whisper, as they parted at Duncan's door, ”a baad temper 's a frichtsome thing. I'm sure the times I hae telled him it wad be the ruin o' 'im!”

To Malcolm's gentle knock Miss Horn's door was opened by Jean.

”What d'ye wint at sic an oontimeous hoor,” she said, ”whan honest fowk's a' i' their nicht caips?”

”I want to see Miss Horn, gien ye please,” he answered.

”I s' warran' she'll be in her bed an' snorin',” said Jean; ”but I s' gang an' see.”

Ere she went, however, Jean saw that the kitchen door was closed, for, whether she belonged to the cla.s.s ”honest folk” or not, Mrs Catanach was in Miss Horn's kitchen, and not in her nightcap.

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