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It's not Doom, mind you, but a place hotching with folk half a hundred perhaps of whom have travelled as this Drimdarroch has travelled, and in Paris too, and just of his visage perhaps. Unless you challenged them all seriatim, as Petullo would say, I see no great prospect." "I wish we could coax the fly here!
Indeed, how could he? for Petullo the writer body is the only Drimdarroch there is to the fore, and he has a grieve in the place. Do you think this by-named Drimdarroch will be going about cocking his bonnet over his French amours and his treasons?
But soberly, I consider his folly scarce bad enough for the punishment of your eternal condemnation." "This man thinks lightly indeed of me," thought Olivia. "Drimdarroch has a good advocate," said she shortly, "and the last I would have looked for in his defence was just yourself." "Drimdarroch?" he repeated, in a puzzled tone. "Will you be telling me that you do not know?" she said.
It did not use to be that with a letter of mine!" He flung away her hands and swore again. "Oh, Kate Cameron," he cried, "damned black was the day I first clapt eyes on you! Tell me this, did your letter, that was through all my dreams when I was in the fever of my wound, and yet that I cannot recall a sentence of, say you knew I was Drimdarroch? It is in my mind that it did so."
"Clean up your filth!" said Doom in the Gaelic, sheathing his sword and turning to join his daughter. "He took Drimdarroch from me, and now, by God! he's welcome to Doom." "Not our old friends, surely?" said Count Victor, looking backward at the cluster of men. "The same," said Doom, and kept his counsel further. Count Victor put his arm round Olivia's waist.
"Oh, Glengarry Alasdair Rhuadh!" exclaimed the Baron, dryly. "And presumed to be burdened with a dangerous name, he passed with the name of Drimdarroch." "Drimdarroch!" repeated the Baron with some apparent astonishment. "I have never seen the man, so far as I know, for I was at Cammercy when he hung about the lady." "Drimdarroch!" repeated Doom reflectively, "a mere land title."
And you knew?" asked Count Victor. . "I learned to-day," said Olivia, "and this was my bitter schooling." She passed him the letter. He took it and read aloud: "I have learned now," said the writer, "the reason for your black looks at Monsher the wine merchant that has a Nobleman's Crest upon his belongings. It is because he has come to look for Drimdarroch. And the stupid body cannot find him!
"Nay, nay," said Count Victor softly, holding her back. "Nay, nay; I will go if your whole ancestry were ranked at the foot." "It is the most stupid thing," she cried, as he left her; "I will explain when you come up. My father is a Highland gentleman." "So, by the way, was Drimdarroch," said Montaiglon, but that was to himself.
We know who Drimdarroch is, do we not, Sim? Monsher may have sharp eyes, but they do not see much further than a woman's face if the same comes in his way. Sim! Sim! I gave you credit for being less o' a Gomeral. To fetch the Frenchman to my house of all places! You might be sure he would not be long among our Indwellers here without his true business being discovered. Drimdarroch, indeed!
"But yes, it is true, he did not see him any more than I did. Drimdarroch, by all accounts, was a spendthrift, a player, a bavard, his great friends, Glengarry and another Scot, Balhaldie " "Oh, Balhaldie! blethering Balhaldie!" cried Doom, contempt upon his countenance. "And Balhaldie would sell him, I'll warrant. He seems, this Drimdarroch, to have been dooms unlucky in his friends.
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