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"I have no right to judge Glenlyon, or any other man; but, as you ask me, I must say I see no likelihood of it." "Hoo can ye compleen o' my puir blin' grandfather for no forgiein' him, than? I hae ye there, mem!" "He may have repented, you know," said Mrs Courthope feebly, finding herself in less room than was comfortable.
Tell me," Peter went on, "hae ye onything upo yer min', laddie, 'at ye wud like to confess and be eased o'? There's nae papistry in confessin to yer ain auld father!" James lay still for a few moments; then he said, almost inaudibly "I think I could tell my mother better nor you, father." "It'll be a' ane whilk o' 's ye tell. The forgiein and the forgettin 'ill be ae deed by the twa o' 's at ance!
It's nae guid mentionin' 't to the minister; he wad only gie a lauch an' gang awa'. An' gien ye cud jist slide in a word aboot forgiein' his enemies, sir! I made licht o' the maitter to Mistress Courthope, 'cause she only maks him waur. She does weel wi' what the minister pits intill her, but she has little o' her ain to mix't up wi', an' sae has but sma' weicht wi' the likes o' my gran'father.
What wad be the use o' forgiein' ye, or hoo cud it win at ye, or what wad ye care for't, or mak o't, cairryin' a hell o' hate i' yer verra hert? For gien God be love, hell maun be hate. My bairn, them 'at winna forgie their enemies, cairries sic a nest o' deevilry i' their ain boasoms, 'at the verra speerit o' God himsel' canna win in till't for bein' scomfished wi' smell an' reik.
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