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Malcolm had just seen his master set out for his solitary ride when one of the maids informed him that a man from Kirkbyres wanted him. Hiding his reluctance, he went with her and found Tom, who was Mrs. Stewart's grieve and had been about the place all his days. "Mr. Stephen's come hame, sir," he said, touching his bonnet, a civility for which Malcolm was not grateful.
Stewart was sitting in her drawing-room alone: she seldom had visitors at Kirkbyres not that she liked being alone, or indeed being there at all, for she would have lived on the Continent, but that her son's trustees, partly to indulge their own aversion to her, taking upon them a larger discretionary power than rightly belonged to them, kept her too straitened, which no doubt in the recoil had its share in poor Stephen's misery.
"But I wantit to tell ye anither thing my lord," said Malcolm, as he followed the marquis down the stairs. "What is that?" "I cam upo' anither plot a mair serious ane, bein' against a man 'at can ill haud aff o' himsel', an' cud waur bide onything than yer lordship the puir mad laird." "Who's he?" "Ilka body kens him, my lord! He's son to the leddy o' Kirkbyres."
At length, when he reached the top of the ridge, he saw the house of Kirkbyres below him; and, with a small modern lodge near by, a wooden gate showed the entrance to its grounds.
Mrs Stewart was sitting in her drawing room alone: she seldom had visitors at Kirkbyres not that she liked being alone, or indeed being there at all, for she would have lived on the Continent, but that her son's trustees, partly to indulge their own aversion to her, taking upon them a larger discretionary power than rightly belonged to them, kept her too straitened, which no doubt in the recoil had its share in poor Stephen's misery.
A light flush rose to her cheeks, but whether from embarrassment or anger could not be told from her reply. "I ken nane o' that name," she said. "Whaur's the laird o' Kirkbyres, than?" "Whar ye s' never lay han' upo' 'im!" returned the child, her cheeks now rosy red, and her eyes flashing. "Me lay han' upo' 'im!" cried Malcolm, surprised at her behaviour.
Stoat saddled a horse for him while he changed his dress, and once more he set out for Kirkbyres. Had Malcolm been at the time capable of attempting an analysis of his feeling towards Mrs Stewart, he would have found it very difficult to effect.
"There can be little doobt they hae gotten a grip o' 'm at last, puir fallow!" said Joseph. "But whatever 's come till him, we canna sit doon an' ait oor mait ohn kent hoo Phemy 's farin, puir wee lamb! Ye maun jist haud awa' ower to Kirkbyres, Ma'colm, an' get word o' yer mither, an' see gien onything can be made oot o' her." The proposal fell on Malcolm like a great billow.
I wad fecht for her, but I wadna lee." "Would ye be her servant all your days? Come, now." "Mair nor willin'ly, my lord gien she wad only hae me, an' keep me." "But supposing you came to inherit the Kirkbyres property?" "My lord," said Malcolm solemnly, "that 's a puir test to put me till. It gangs for naething.
"Weel, ye canna deny," persisted Phemy, in mood to brave the evil one himself, "'at ye was ower at Kirkbyres on ane o' the markis's mears, an' heild a lang confab wi' the laird's mither!" "I gaed upo' my maister's eeran'," answered Malcolm. "Ow, ay! I daursay! But wha kens wi' sic a mither!" She burst out crying, and ran into the street. Malcolm understood it now.
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