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Verra well, dinna ye think as hoo yon Irish whelp I skelpit the day 'll hae a waesome feelin' i' his breist? That's a' the meanin' I desired till convey. It's nae wrang when it's expoun'it. Guid-nicht till ye, minister."
"Gien ye dinna want him, gie him to me: I want him!" said Maggie eagerly. "Want him!" returned Isy, bursting into tears; "I hae lived but upo the bare houp o' gettin him again! I hae grutten my een sair for the sicht o' 'im! Aften hae I waukent greetin ohn kenned for what! and noo ye tell me I dinna want him, 'cause I hae nae spot but my breist to lay his heid upo!
After the crush and struggle of the overcrowded streets, which she had not until now left behind, it was natural she should be so impressed. 'I walkit as far as frae the Trongate to the Briggate, an' I saw naething but twa-three sheep an' a robin red-breist sittin' in the hedge, she said musingly. 'It's breist was as red as it had been pented. I didna ken ye could see them leevin'?
"Mony a clout I had to wash, and mony a nicht I sat lonely by mysell, plaistering my withered breist. But I never let onybody ken," she added with pride; "na-a-a, I never let onybody ken. When your faither nipped me wi' his tongue it nipped me wi' its pain, and, woman, it consoled me.
I ken what it is to nurse daith in my breist wi' pride, too, mother," she went on. "Ye never cared verra much for me; it was John was your favourite. I used to be angry because you neglected my illness, and I never telled you how heavily I hoasted blood. 'She'll be sorry for this when I'm deid, I used to think; and I hoped you would be. I had a kind of pride in saying nothing.
But a' that was naething compairateevely. I' the mids o' a quaiet contemplation, suddenly, wi' an awfu' stoon, a ghaistly doobt pat it's heid up i' my breist, and cried: 'It's a' fause. The grey luik o' life's the true ane, and the only aspec' ye hae a richt to see. And efter that, a' the whusky in Glenlivat cudna console me. Luik at me noo. Ye see what I am.
Na, na, laddie! frae my verra hert, I wuss he may be that affrontit wi' himsel' 'at he canna sae muckle as lift up's een to h'aven, but maun smite upo' 's breist an' say, 'God be mercifu' to me a sinner! That's my curse upo' him, for I wadna hae 'im a deevil. Whan he comes to think that shame o' himsel', I'll tak him to my hert, as I tak the bairn he misguidit.
But I'll speir ye nae mair, sir, said the herd. I fear what ye micht say neist. Ye wad but won'er the mair, said the bird, To see the thouchts i' my breist. And aye he sang, an' better he sang, An' the worms creepit in an' oot; An' ane he tuik, an' twa he loot gang, But still he carolled stoot.
"Janet!" smiled Mrs. Gourlay, with insane soft interest, "Janet! D'ye mind yon nicht langsyne when your faither came in wi' a terrible look in his een and struck me in the breist? Ay," she whispered hoarsely, staring at the fire, "he struck me in the breist. But I didna ken what it was for, Janet.... No," she shook her head, "he never telled me what it was for."
I took a lesson frae Jeck the giant-killer, wi' the Welsh giant was 't Blunderbore they ca'd him? an' poored the maist o' my glaiss doon my breist. It wasna like ink; it wadna du my sark ony ill. 'But what garred ye gang wi' 'im at a'? He wasna fit company for a gentleman. 'A gentleman 's some saft gin he be ony the waur o' the company he gangs in till. There may be rizzons, ye ken.
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