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Oldbuck laid the band of strong possession on Lovel "Deil a stride ye's go to Fairport this night, young man you must go home with me to Monkbarns. Why, man, you have been a hero a perfect Sir William Wallace, by all accounts.
Go away, all of ye's, go away, I say, or ye'll dhrive him crazy wid yer Be quiet, Mike! don't ye spake agin." And she laid a broad red hand upon his face. He only groaned again, and threw his one unbandaged arm across his darkened eyes, as though to hide from sight of all.
So, says I, 'you'd better jest let matters stop where they be; 'cause, says I, ''twon't make no difference, for to-night, which on ye's got the right on't; reckon the Lord 'll go on his own way without you; and we shall find out, by'm-by, what that is." "Mr. Scudder used to think a great deal on these points," said Mrs. Katy, "and the last time he was home he wrote out his views.
"Fer if ye be," continued the man, "ye's be keepin' a lookout fer Timmie noo, wouldn't ye though?" "Who's Timmie?" asked Bruce. "Timmie? Hae ye never hearn o' Timmie? Timmie; the boy it was, seventeen he was then. But 'twas twelve years ago it was, lad. He'd be a man noo. I sent him fer the bag wi' the pay-roll in it, an' he never coom back.
Besides if I shiver with cold one moment, I glow with heat the next," said Miss Levison, smiling. "Ay; I am sair afeard ye's gaun to be ill, wi' all thae shivers and glows," replied the dame, shaking her head. "Nonsense again, Mrs. Ross, dear woman. I am well enough. Now, Janet, did you tell his lordship's messenger to wait?" "Yes, Miss."
There is no more of the ye's and thous with which, when he would make an exordium, Thackeray addressed the world a fashion long since laid aside. Eliot drew much nearer to the truth, the quiet, homely verity of her scenes is a closer approximation to life, realizes life more vitally than the most veracious page of "Vanity Fair."
Let me loose and Oi'll be afther lavin' ye's. Oi'll do it be the boots that hung on Chatham's Hill. I do belave they are goin' to burn me alive. O, ye bloody haythens; let me loose and Oi'll fight the pair of ye's if ye's have got me pistols." The Indians by this time had the fire started, but Mike still retained his nerve, cussing the red fiends by all the powers in the Irish vocabulary.
Again he rang, but there was no response. There were lights in the house, and he knocked upon the door quite loudly. A housemaid soon after appeared, with a scared and anxious face. "Is Miss Martell at home?" he asked, a sudden boding of evil chilling his heart. "Indade an' she is not. Would to God she was!" "What do you mean?" "Faix, an' I'm sure I'm glad ye's come, Misther Harcourt.
I also told him to be careful and not run into an ambuscade, but above all not to be taken prisoner. Then I asked him if he could bark like a cayote. His answer was: "Sure, Captain, it's mesilf that can make a bloody cayote ashamed of himself bairking, and I belave ye's is afraid for me, but O'ill tell ye now there's no bloody Apache in all Arizony that's goin' to take this Irishman prisoner.
As soon as Mike came up he said: "Sure, Captain, and wasn't I after tellin's ye's that it was no bloody spalpeen of an Apache's thrack that I be follerin' lasht avenin'?"
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