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Malcolm had taken the child from her, and was clasping him to his bosom. "He's the warst rascal, Lizzy," he said, "'at ever God made an' the deevil blaudit." "Na, na," cried Lizzy; "the likes o' him whiles kills the wuman, but he wadna du that. Na, he's nae the warst; there's a heap waur nor him." "Did ye see my mistress?" asked Malcolm. "Ow ay; but she luikit sae angry at me, I cudna speyk.
Nae doot that's blaudit mony a face 'the want o' original richteousness, and the corruption o' our whole natur'. The wonner is that we're like him at a'. But we maun be like him, for he was a man born o' a wumman. Think o' that, lass!" At this moment the latch of the door was lifted, and in walked Robert Bruce.
Malcolm had taken the child from her, and was clasping him to his bosom. "He's the warst rascal, Lizzy," he said, "'at ever God made an' the deevil blaudit." "Na, na," cried Lizzy; "the likes o' him whiles kills the wuman, but he wadna du that. Na, na, he's nae the warst: there's a heap waur nor him." "Did ye see my mistress?" asked Malcolm. "Ow ay, but she luikit sae angry at me, I cudna speyk.
"Will that du, my lord?" he said calmly, turning a face rigid with hidden conflict, and gleaming white, from the framework of the arch, upon his master, whose eyes seemed to devour him. "Come out," said the marquis, in a voice that seemed to belong to some one else. "I hae blaudit yer playock, my lord," said Malcolm ruefully, as he stepped from the cave and held out the fingers.
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