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Updated: May 19, 2025
"Beyond me and every ither in the land but ane, and it wud cost a hundred guineas tae bring him tae Drumtochty." "Certes, he's no blate; it's a fell chairge for a short day's work; but hundred or no hundred we 'ill hae him, and no let Annie gang, and her no half her years." "Are ye meanin' it, Drumsheugh?" and MacLure turned white below the tan.
"We 'ill sune be hame noo; this is the black wood, and it's no lang aifter that; we're ready for oor beds, Jess; ... ay, ye like a clap at a time; mony a mile we've gaed hegither. Drumsheugh held his friend's hand, which now and again tightened in his, and as he watched, a change came over the face on the pillow beside him.
"Yon wes the best job we ever did thegither, an' dookin' Saunders, ye 'ill no forget that nicht, Weelum" a gleam came into the doctor's eyes "tae say neathin' o' the Highlan' fling." The remembrance of that great victory came upon Drumsheugh, and tried his fortitude.
"'Mine iniquity is greater than can be forgiven. No, Cain, thou errest; God's mercy is far greater, couldst thou ask mercy. Men cannot be more sinful than God is merciful if, with penitent hearts, they will call upon Him." We have all read of the passing of William MacLure in Ian Maclaren's touching idyll. "A'm gettin' drowsy," said the doctor to Drumsheugh, "read a bit tae me."
"The doctors in the toons hae nurses an' a' kinds o' handy apparatus," said MacLure to Drumsheugh when Bell had gone, "but you an' me 'ill need tae be nurse the nicht, an' use sic things as we hev. "It 'ill be a lang nicht and anxious wark, but a' wud raither hae ye, auld freend, wi' me than ony man in the Glen. Ye're no feared tae gie a hand?" "Me feared? No, likely.
He needs a bit nip," and Drumsheugh settles himself in his seat, "or else there wud be nae leevin' wi' him." Peter escaped this winged shaft, for he had detected a woman in the remote darkness. "Keep's a', wumman, what are ye stravagin' about there for out o' a body's sicht? a' near set aff withoot ye." Then Peter recognised her face, and his manner softened of a sudden.
"William MacLure," said Drumsheugh, in one of the few confidences that ever broke the Drumtochty reserve, "a'm a lonely man, wi' naebody o' ma ain blude tae care for me livin', or tae lift me intae ma coffin when a'm deid. "A' fecht awa at Muirtown market for an extra pound on a beast, or a shillin' on the quarter o' barley, an' what's the gude o't?
He recommended that she should be shot to end her misery, but no man could be found in the Glen to do the deed, and Jess relieved them of the trouble. When Drumsheugh went to the stable on Monday morning, a week after Dr. MacLure fell on sleep, Jess was resting at last, but her eyes were open and her face turned to the door.
"It gar'd ma very blood rin faster tae the end of ma fingers juist tae look at him," Drumsheugh expatiated afterwards to Hillocks, "for a' saw noo that there was tae be a stand-up fecht atween him an' deith for Saunders, and when a' thocht o' Bell an' her bairns, a' kent wha wud win.
"It took them a gude fower oors tae get across, an' it wes coorse wark; they likit him weel doon that wy, an', Jamie, man" here Drumsheugh's voice changed its note, and his public manner disappeared "what div ye think o' this? every man o' them has on his blacks." "It's mair than cud be expeckit" said Jamie; "but whar dae yon men come frae, Drumsheugh?"
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