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You, my lord, have the one consolation left, that all's not bye yet with the cause you champion, and you may yet lead it to the highest victory." Argile took a grateful glance at me. "You know what I am," he said, "not a man of the happy, single mood like our friend Barbreck here, but tossed between philosophies.
I would have been the first to tell her how things stood if I had seen it otherwise. No, no; Mistress Brown has an eye in other quarters. What do you say to that, Barbreck?" she added, laughing slyly to my friend.
"I ask your pardon a thousand times, Barbreck," she said; "I thought you were hurrying on your way down behind me, and came upon me before you saw who I was." "That was the story," said he, coolly; "I'm too old a hand at the business to be set back on the road I came by a lady who has no relish for my company." "I would not take you away from your marketing for the world," she proceeded.
Here are three or four of your closest friends terribly keen to see the inside of a wall." "Barbreck, is't?" cried Para Mor, holding the flambeau over his head that he might look down on us. "Who's that with the red tartan?" he asked, speaking of MacLachlan, whose garments shone garish in the light beside our dull Campbell country war-cloth.
And we must be on the other side of Dalness before very long. You have been very good to us, and my name's John M'I ver of Barbreck a kind of a Campbell with a great respect for the Mac-Donalds, of whom I kent a few perfect gentry in foreign wars I have been at the fighting of. And good day, mistress, we must be going. My friends have the very small manners surely, for they're off down the road.
"Mere dubs," said M'Iver, pleasantly "mere dubs or ditches. Now I, Barbreck, have been upon the deeps, tossed for days at hazard without a headland to the view. I may have made verse on the experience, I'll not say yea or nay to that, but I never gave a lochan credit for washing the bulged sides of the world." "You hadn't fancy for it, my good fellow," said the bard, angry again.
No Gael though I am, I'm loath myself to talk about a bad black business, but that's because I love my master for master he is in scholarship, in gifts, in every attribute and intention of the Christian soldier. It is for a different reason, I'm afraid, that our friend Barbreck shuffles." "Barbreck never shuffles," said John, stiffly.
I stopped and listened, with my inner head cracking to the strain, and as I was thus standing in wonder, a great form leaped out at me from the mist, and almost ran over me ere it lessened to the semblance of a man, and I had John M'Iver of Barbreck, a heated and hurried gentleman of arms, in my presence.
"Ay, John," said I, "it's easy for you to be light-hearted in the matter. You may readily build your bachelor's house at Barbreck, and I may set up again the barn at Elrigmore; but where husband or son is gone it's a different story. For love is a passion stronger than hate.
You do your duty by your enemy well enough, no doubt, a barbarian of the blackest will do no less, but it takes the better man to do his duty sternly by those he loves and by himself above all Argile " "Yes," cried I, "what about Argile?" The minister paid no heed to my question. "Argile," said he, "has been far too long flattered by you and your like, M'Iver." "Barbreck," put in my comrade.
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