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Updated: May 13, 2025
It was the judge's daughter which Courthope now saw in Madge the desire to estimate evidence, the fearless judgment. 'We took you in last night, a stranger; and now we have been robbed, which never happened before in all our lives. My sister says it was you she saw in our room.
It seemed useless for Courthope to precede them; he went into the dining-room, demanding food of Madam Morin. He found that Eliz had been carried down and placed in her chair in the midst of domestic activities.
He turned the handle and pushed the door half open. The long drawing-room was almost dark; the shutters had not been opened; the furniture remained as it had stood when the brilliant assembly of the previous evening had broken up; the large fireplace was full of ashes; the atmosphere was deadly cold. Courthope stood in the streak of light which entered with him.
He shook his hands like a despairing child, then stamped and wept in the agony of frustrated rage. Mrs Courthope took Phemy in her arms, and carried her to her own room, where she opened the window, and let the snowy wind blow full upon her. As soon as she came quite to herself Malcolm set out to bear the good tidings to her father and mother.
Courthope called him: his master was worse, and wanted to see him. The midnight was dark and still, for the wind had ceased.
Looking back, Courthope saw Madge and the stranger emerge upon the road with the little horse. He had not time to look back often to see how they helped it to make its way. They were still some distance behind when he and Morin reached the house. The man called Xavier was carried into the kitchen amid wild exclamations from the Morin women.
Apparently Mrs Courthope had come at length to the conclusion that Malcolm was as much of a heathen as his grandfather, for in silence she chose her fish, in silence paid him his price, and then with only a sad Good day, turned and left him.
"I have no right to judge Glenlyon, or any other man; but, as you ask me, I must say I see no likelihood of it." "Hoo can ye compleen o' my puir blin' grandfather for no forgiein' him, than? I hae ye there, mem!" "He may have repented, you know," said Mrs Courthope feebly, finding herself in less room than was comfortable.
"No, I'm sure he wad not," persisted Malcolm, innocently. "Meets Glenlyon in heaven!" again echoed Mrs Courthope, who knew enough of the story to be startled at the taken for granted way in which Malcolm spoke. "Is it probable that a wretch such as your legends describe him should ever get there?" "Ye dinna think God's forgien him, than, mem?"
Courthope to let him have another room, but she looked so doubtful that he withdrew his request and went back to his grandfather. It was Saturday, and not many of the boats would go fishing. Among the rest, Findlay's would not leave the harbor till Sunday was over, and therefore Malcolm was free. But he could not rest, and would go line-fishing.
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