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He gave her the key of the tunnel, hinted that she might leave the two to themselves for awhile, and returned to his friends in the drawing room. Having begged them to excuse him for a little while, and desired Mrs Courthope to serve luncheon for them, he ran to his grandfather, dreading lest any other tongue than his own should yield him the opened secret.
"But Mistress Courthope was doon last nicht, an' wantit the best I cud heuk." "Mistress Courthope! Wha cares for her? A mim, cantin' auld body! Gie me the trootie, Ma'colm. Ye're a bonny laad, an 'it s' be the better for ye." "Deed I cudna du 't, Mistress Catanach though I'm sorry to disobleege ye. It's bespoken, ye see. "Gae 'wa' wi' yer haddies, an' yer goukmeys! Ye sanna gowk me wi' them."
The marquis was not yet up, but Mrs Courthope undertaking to send him word as soon as his lordship was to be seen, he threw himself on the grass and waited his mind occupied with strange questions, started by the Sunday coming after such a Saturday among the rest, how God could permit a creature to be born so distorted and helpless as the laird, and then permit him to be so abused in consequence of his helplessness.
Returning to his grandfather, he found a note waiting him from Mrs Courthope, to the effect that, as Miss Caley, her ladyship's maid, had preferred another room, there was no reason why, if he pleased, he should not re-occupy his own. It was late in the sweetest of summer mornings when the Partan's boat slipped slowly back with a light wind to the harbour of Portlossie.
Had they been still in the Seaton, one or other of the travelling ripples of talk must have found them; but Duncan had come and gone between his cottage and Malcolm's bedside, without a single downy feather from the still widening flap of the wings of Fame ever dropping on him; and the only persons who visited Malcolm besides were the Doctor too discreet in his office to mix himself up with gossip; Mr Graham, to whom nobody, except it had been Miss Horn, whom he had not seen for a fortnight, would have dreamed of mentioning such a subject; and Mrs Courthope not only discreet like the doctor, but shy of such discourse as any reference to the rumour must usher in its train.
"We are told in the New Testament to forgive our enemies, you know," said Mrs Courthope, heedless of his entrance, but in a voice that seemed rather to plead than oppose. "Inteet she will not be false to her shief and her clan," retorted Duncan persistently. "She will not forgife Cawmil of Glenlyon." "But he's dead long since, and we may at least hope he repented and was forgiven."
Mrs Courthope reflected for a moment, and then repeated the following lines: "The lord quha wad sup on 3 thowmes o' cauld airn, The ayr quha wad kythe a bastard and carena, The mayd quha wad tyne her man and her bairn, Lift the neck, and enter, and fearna." "That's it, my lord," she said, in conclusion.
Outside the window the same chaotic sweep and whirl of the atmosphere prevailed. It was difficult, even holding a lantern outside, to see, but they did see that a track had come up to the window and again turned from it. After that they all searched the house, Courthope allowed to be of the company, apparently because he could thus be watched.
Madge was seated at the head of the table, Courthope at the foot; Eliz in her high chair had been wheeled to the centre of one side.
Then she turned to Lizzy and thanked her for her kindness, and they parted Lizzy to her baby, and Clementina to yet a dream or two. Long before her dreams were sleeping ones, however, Malcolm was out in the bay in the Psyche's dinghy catching mackerel: some should be for his grandfather, some for Miss Horn, some for Mrs. Courthope, and some for Mrs. Crathie.
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