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"I wadna be fit to tell ye, laddie, gien 't warna, as ye ken, 'at the Almichty 's been unco mercifu' to me i' the maitter o' feelin's. Yer freen's i' the Seaton, an' ower at Scaurnose, hae feelin's, an' that 's hoo nane o' them a' has pluck it up hert to tell ye o' the waggin' o' slanderous tongues against ye." "What are they sayin' noo?" asked Malcolm with considerable indifference.
Be 't licht or dark, be 't foul or fair, the sea sleepin' or ragin', ye ha'e aye room, an' naething atween ye an' the throne o' the Almichty, to the whilk yer prayers ken the gait, as weel 's the herrin' to the shores o' Scotlan': ye ha'e but to lat them flee, an' they gang straucht there.
"It's ower late tae mend, but ye 'ill maybe juist say to the fouk that I wes sorry, an' a'm houpin' that the Almichty 'ill hae mercy on me. "Cud ye ... pit up a bit prayer, Paitrick?" "A' haena the words," said Drumsheugh in great distress; "wud ye like's tae send for the minister?" So Drumsheugh knelt and prayed with many pauses.
"Aweel, Miss Marjory," he said, "I'm thinkin' not. Seems to me that the bonnie flowers hae been gien us for a gude example. They aye bloom as best they can. Sunshine an' shade, rain an' wind, they tak them a' as God Almichty sends them, an' are aye sweet, an' aye content just to dae their best. I dinna ken for certain, Miss Marjory, but that's what I'm thinkin'." "I think so too, Peter.
"Almichty God ... dinna be hard on Weelum MacLure, for he's no been hard wi' onybody in Drumtochty.... Be kind tae him as he's been tae us a' for forty year.... We're a' sinners afore Thee.... Forgive him what he's dune wrang, an' dinna cuist it up tae him.... Mind the fouk he's helpit .... the wee-men an' bairnies.... an' gie him a welcome hame, for he's sair needin't after a' his wark.... Amen."
"What but bigg a harbour at Scaurnose for the puir fisher fowk 'at was like my ain flesh and blude!" "Weel," rejoined Miss Horn eagerly, "div ye no look upo' that as a voo to the Almichty a voo 'at ye're bun' to pay, noo 'at ye ha'e yer wuss?
But the next instant she screamed aloud, "Lord God Almichty! yon's him! yon's himsel'!" and, stretching out her arms, dashed a hand through a pane, letting in an eddying swirl of wind and water, while the blood streamed unheeded from her wrist. The same moment Jean entered the room. She heard both the cry and the sound of the breaking glass. "Care what set the beggar-wife!" she exclaimed.
May the Almichty forbid it, but if MacKay of Scourie can hinder it there will be little advancement for Graham of Claverhouse in this army." "You are a dour and suspicious devil, Jock, and you've always been the same ever since I remember you. Captain MacKay is a whig and a Presbyterian, but he is a good soldier, and I wish I had been more civil to him last night.
"If the Almichty hasna done muckle for your face, Jock, He's given you a grand conceit o' yoursel', and that must be a rael comfort. I wish I'd a share o' it. So you have preserved your maister safe till this day, and he's still gaeing aboot heart-free and hand-free."
A cry of pain and horror broke upon them as they ran, and brought them back while the crumbling mass was still falling. "Great God! It's wee Jamie Allan," roared one man above the din. "He's catched by the leg! Here, boys, hurry up! Try an' get this block broken afore ony mair comes doon. God Almichty! Are we a' goin' to be buried thegither? This bit, boys! Quick!"
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