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Updated: June 8, 2025
He lost no time in telling him the story. 'I tauld ye he was up to some deevilry or ither, said Shargar. 'I can shaw ye the verra hoose he maun be gaein' to tak her frae. 'Ye vratch! what for didna ye tell me that afore? 'Ye wadna hear aboot ither fowk's affairs. Na, not you! But some fowk has no richt to consideration. The verra stanes they say 'ill cry oot ill secrets like brither Sandy's.
"Cause he wad be meeserable whaur there was nae drunk fowk," answered Mysie. And now it seemed to the poor, shocked, heart-wounded creature, as if the human face were just the one thing he could no more look upon. One haunted him, the black one, with the white, staring eyes, the mouth in its throat, and the white grinning teeth.
"Ye micht hae gotten a hantel oot o' that." "Ay. But ye see, he said the Lord was merciful to ither fowk whan he rendert to the wicked the punishment due to them. And I cudna richtly feel i' my hert that I cud praise the Lord for that mercy." "I dinna wonner, my bairn." "But eh! Mr Cupples, Mr Turnbull's no like that aye. He's bonnie upo' the Gospel news. I wiss ye wad gang and hear him the nicht.
'The Lord be praised! said Mrs. Falconer. 'I had guid houps o' 'im in 's latter days. And fowk says he's made a rich man o' ye, Robert? 'He's left me ilka thing, excep' something till 's servan's wha hae weel deserved it. 'Eh, Robert! but it's a terrible snare. Siller 's an awfu' thing. My puir Anerew never begud to gang the ill gait, till he began to hae ower muckle siller.
But the moment fowk says wha I am, ye touch na a poun' note mair, an' I coont mysel' free to pursue onything I can pruv agane ye." Mrs Catanach attempted a laugh of scorn, but her face was grey as putty, and its muscles declined response. "Ay or no," said Malcolm. "I winna gar ye sweir, for I wad lippen to yer aith no a hair."
"Thank ye kindly, sir," returned Isy. "I am a bit tired! But I won'er ye kenned me!" "Weel, I canna jist say I ken ye by the name fowk ca' ye; and still less div I ken ye by the name the Lord ca's ye; but nowther maitters muckle to her that kens He has a name growin for her or raither, a name she's growin til!
She heard him to the end without remark, beyond the interjection of an occasional "Eh, sirs!" then sat for a minute in troubled silence. "There's a heap o' things an 'uman like me," she said at length, "canna un'erstan'. I didna ken whether some fowk mair nor preten' to un'erstan' them.
"I ken a heap aboot fowk o' a' kin's mair a heap, I'm thinkin, nor ye ken yersel! I ken mair aboot yersel, tee, nor ye think; I hae seen ye i' my ain kirk mair nor ance or twice. The Sunday nicht afore last I was preachin straucht intil yer bonny face, and saw ye greitin, and maist grat mysel.
Then Kirsty began to tell him, as she would have taught a child, something of the history of the catacombs, knowing how it must interest him. 'I' the days langsyne, she said, 'there was fowk, like you and me, unco fain o' the bonny man. The verra soun o' the name o' 'im was eneuch to gar their herts loup wi' doonricht glaidness.
He worked his mouth round and round, to clear the course, as it were, for a sarcasm. "Fowk often say," he continued, "'at 'am quick beyond the ordinar' in seeing the humorous side o' things." Here Tammas paused, and looked at us. "So ye are, Tammas," said Hendry. "Losh, ye mind hoo ye saw the humorous side o' me wearin' a pair o' boots 'at wisna marrows!
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