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To say naething o' the ill guideship, which micht hae 'garred a minister sweer, it wud be a cruelty naething short o' deev'lich to lock up a puir hairmless cratur like that, as innocent as he 's ill shapit." "He's as God made him," said the marquis. "He 's no as God wull mak him," returned Malcolm. "What do you mean by that?" asked the marquis.
"A man's face the same we saw in the storm," she answered, and Malcolm felt her shudder as she spoke. "It 's naething but the mad laird," he said. "He 's better nor hairmless. Dinna say a word to yer father my leddy. I dinna like to say that, but I 'll tell ye a' what for efterhin'." But Florimel, knowing that her father had a horror of lunatics, was willing enough to be silent.
"Some fowk says the auld man's name's no MacPhail, an' he maun hae come here in hidin' for some rouch job or ither 'at he's been mixed up wi'. "I s' believe nae ill o' sic a puir, hairmless body. Fowk 'at maks their ain livin', wantin' the een to guide them, canna be that far aff the straucht. "I was but tellin' ye what fowk telled me," returned the younger woman.
Eh, but he's a fearsome sicht whan he's ta'en that gait!" continued the speaker. "I met him ance i' the gloamin', jist ower by the toon, wi' his een glowerin' like uily lamps, an' the slaver rinnin' doon his lang baird. I jist laup as gien I had seen the muckle Sawtan himsel'." "He's jist as hairmless, e'en at the warst, as ony lamb.
But I never heeds a spate, for if a man just kens the way o't it's a canny, hairmless thing. I couldna wish to dee better than just be happit i' the waters o' my ain countryside, when my legs fail and I'm ower auld for the trampin'." Something in that queer figure in the setting of the hills struck a note of curious pathos. And towards evening as we returned down the glen the note grew keener.
'Haith, he's luikin 'maist like ither fowk! 'I'm thinkin the deevil maun hae gane oot o' him! said another, and several joined in with their remarks. 'Nae muckle o' a deevil was there to gang oot! He was aye an unco hairmless cratur! 'And that saft-hertit til a' leevin thing! 'He was that!
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