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Updated: May 18, 2025
Sae, at the risk o' angerin' ye, I maun tell yer lordship, wi' a' respec', 'at gien I can help it, there sall no han', gentle or semple, be laid upo' the laird against his ain wull." The marquis was getting tired of the contest. He was angry too, and none the less that he felt Malcolm was in the right. "Go to the devil you booby!" he said even more in impatience than in wrath.
He's luikin as scared as a corp! I doobt that fule body the soutar's been angerin him wi' his havers!"
"They wad be dull thanks, mem, that war thankit afore I kenned what for." "For allowing you to carry me ashore, of course." "Be thankit, mem, wi' a' my hert. Will I gang doon o' my knees?" "No. Why should you go on your knees?" "'Cause ye're 'maist ower bonny to luik at stan'in', mem, an' I'm feared for angerin' ye." "Don't say ma'am to me." "What am I to say, than, mem? I ask yer pardon, mem."
He towered up in grandeur and in wrath before me. He seemed almost like a offended male fowl when ravenin' hawks are angerin' of it beyond its strength to endure. I don't like that metafor; I don't love to compare my pardner to any fowl, wild or tame; but my frenzied haste to describe the fearful seen must be my excuse, and also my agitation in recallin' of it.
No, when a pardner dies and you set out to take another one, bury the one that has gone right under his own high chair in your heart, don't keep him up there a rattlin' his bones before the eyes of the 2d, and angerin' him, and agonizen' your own heart. Bury him before you bring a new one into the same room.
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