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Updated: June 11, 2025
I am a changed a fearfully changed man. My soul now gloats owre tales o' crime and scenes o' blood. To me there is an interest, an indescribable, mysterious interest in this book, beyond the charm o' the miser's wealth, or the bridegroom's bride ay, sir, or what I ance thocht was in life to the deein sinner.
"And I dreamed," she answered slowly and tremulously, "that it bude to be true, true love, however it had sinned, that neither slight nor hate, nor absence nor fell decay could uproot; and that could tempt me to break my plighted word, and lay my infirmity on the man that bargained for me like gear, and that I swore Heaven absolve me! I would gar rue his success till his deein' day.
"Still there are vahrious wy's in which a man can be deein the wull o' his Father in h'aven, and the great thing for ilk ane is to fin' oot the best w'y he can set aboot deein that wull.
"I hae but to lay my han' to what's neist me, and it's sure to be something that wants deein! I'm clean ashamt sometimes, whan I wauk up i' the mornin, to fin' mysel deein naething!"
'Na, na; it wasna ae grain that! Her deein had naething to du wi that nor wi you in ony w'y. I dinna believe she was a hair waur for ony nonsense ye said til her shame o' ye as it was! She dee'd upo' the Horn, ae awfu' tempest o' a nicht. She cudna hae suffert lang, puir thing! She hadna the stren'th to suffer muckle.
'Bonny man, I ken ye weel: there's naebody in h'aven or earth 'at's like ye! Ye ken yersel I wad jist dee for ye; or gien there be onything waur to bide nor deein, that's what I would du for ye gien ye wantit it o' me, that is, for I'm houpin sair 'at ye winna want it, I'm that awfu cooardly!
"You'd hardly ken her," she went on. "She's that thin and white and faur gane lookin', forby havin' a boast that wad fricht you. Puir lassie, I was vexed for her an' Matthew too is gey upset aboot it. Dae you ken, Rob, I believe they mun be gey hard gruppit. Wi' Matthew being off work, and John deein' an' a' the ither troubles they had this while, I think they canna be ower weel off."
Fowk may tell me," he went on, more now as if he were talking to himself than to the boy, "'at I sud content mysel' wi' what I see an' hear, an' lat alane sic eeseless speculations! wi' deein' men an' mears a' aboot me, hoo can I! They're onything but eeseless to me, for gien I had naething but what I see an' hear, gran' an' bonny as a heap o' 't is, I wad jist smore for want o' room."
He was deein' o' consumption, an' I took guid care o' Sandy's sympathy. There was no askin' aboot him, mind ye. But there was a mean man i' the business, wha was never meant to be an undertaker. His name was Creighton, Tom Creighton, an' what dae ye think Tom did, to get his trade?" "I don't know," said Mr. Blake, rising to depart. "Weel, I'll tell ye.
If it were he whom I suspect, Jock, I could not rest in my grave." "Rest easy, Maister John, I wrung the truth frae his deein' lips. It was Lord Nottingham, the English minister, wha feed him, the black-hearted devil. Livingstone had naethin' to do wi' the maitter, far less onybody ye luved."
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