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Lat the lassie gang, but lea' me my God!" Joseph pushed her gently away; turned from her, fell on his knees, and moaned out "O God, gien thoo has her, we s' neither greit nor grum'le: but dinna tak the faith frae 's." He remained on his knees silent, with his head against the chimney jamb. His wife crept away to her closet.
Cosmo recognized with a shudder his favourite spot, where on his birthday, as on many a day before, he had fallen asleep. But the old woman went on with her story. "Deid was the auld captain as deid as ever was man 'at had nane left to greit for him. But thof there was nae greitin', no but sic a hullabaloo as rase upo' the discovery!
The wife's in there wi' what's left o' her, greitin as gien she wad greit her een oot. Eh, but she lo'ed her weel: Doon she drappit, and no even a moment to say her prayers!" "That maitters na muckle no a hair, in fac!" returned the soutar. "It was the Father o' her, nane ither, that took her. He wantit her hame; and he's no are to dee onything ill, or at the wrang moment!
"And what kind o' sangs do ye like?" the clergyman asked, instead of replying. "I like them best that gar ye greit, sir." At every answer, she looked up in his face with her open clear blue eyes. And the minister began to love her not merely because she was a child, but because she was this child. "Do ye sing them?" he asked, after a little pause of pleased gazing into the face of the child.
"Weel, we maunna stan' oot here i' the cauld: come this gait," said Malcolm. "The bairnie 'll get its deid." "There wadna be mony to greit at that," returned Lizzy, and pressed the child closer to her bosom. Malcolm led the way to the little chamber contrived under the temple in the heart of the hill, and unlocking the door made her enter.
As lang 's I dinna believe 'at he's deid, I can keep him i' my prayers. I'm no gaein' to lea' him oot, I tell ye, grannie. 'Weel, laddie, I canna argue wi' ye. I hae nae hert til 't. I doobt I maun greit! Come awa'. She took him by the hand and rose, then let him go again, saying, 'Sneck the door, laddie.
What was there to greit about! 'Maybe she thocht o' her sister's bairn in a tribble 'at silence wadna hide! answered Kirsty. 'Ye haena a notion, lassie, what ye're duin wi' yersel! But my mither 'll lat ye ken, sae that ye gangna blinlins intil the tod's hole. 'Ye dinna ken Frank, or ye wudna speyk o' 'im that gait! 'I ken him ower weel to trust you til him.
Not the les seeing the miserie sa greit appeiring, and the calamitie sa neir approching, I thocht it les fault to incur the cryme of surmounting my private estait than the blame of neglecting the publict danger." From this the reader will be able to judge what extraordinary difficulty there was in the Scotch to an English reader of those days.
'Na! hev I? said Robert, putting up his hand. 'But I maun gang there's nae help for 't, he added. 'Gin I cud only win to my ain room ohn Betty seen me! That's a sair vex. 'Never mind it, returned Miss St. John, smiling. 'It is of no consequence. But you must come with me. I must see what I can do for your head. Poor boy! 'Eh, mem! but ye are kin'! Gin ye speik like that ye'll gar me greit.
But there was naething sae frichtsome aboot that, my lord." "No, indeed," said his lordship. "Only it garred me greit tu, my lord, 'cause I cudna win at her to help her." His lordship laughed, but oddly, and changed the subject. "There's no word of that boat yet," he said. "I must write again." "May I show Malcolm the library, papa?" asked Lady Florimel.
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