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Updated: June 3, 2025
Early in their acquaintance she had said to him: "You know, their marriage customs when we first settled in the islands were so shocking that I couldn't possibly describe them to you. But I'll tell Mrs Macphail and she'll tell you." Then he had seen his wife and Mrs Davidson, their deck-chairs close together, in earnest conversation for about two hours.
But he is such a useful fellow, and so thoroughly to be depended upon, that I should prefer his having a room in the house. I should like to know he was within call any moment I might want him." Duncan did not clutch at the proposal. He was silent so long that the marquis spoke again. "You do not quite seem to like the plan, Mr MacPhail," he said.
She noticed however that he greatly advocated the good qualities of a fine young Scotchman called MacPhail, who had lately settled on an estate in the neighborhood, and had shown a great inclination for Cynthia's society.
"He is a tog! No, he is no tog: togs is coot. He is a mongrel of a fox and a volf!" "There was no Campbell at our table that evening," persisted Lady Florimel. "Ten who tolt Tuncan MacPhail a lie!" "It was nothing but a joke indeed!" said the girl, beginning to feel humiliated. "It wass a paad choke, and might have peen ta hanging of poor Tuncan," said the piper.
Then approaching Malcolm, he lighted at his the candle he carried, which a draught had extinguished on the way. "Go to your room, MacPhail," he said, and turned from him, his arm still round Lady Florimel. They walked a way together down the long passage, vaguely visible in flickering fits. All at once their light vanished, and with it Malcolm's eyes seemed to have left him.
"'At nane cud ken sae weel 's hersel' it was a damned lee. Wha is she?" "Wha but Meg Partan's Lizzy!" "Puir lassie! is that it? Eh, but I'm sorry for her! She never said it was me. An' whaever said it, surely ye dinna believe 't o' me, mem?" "Me believe 't! Malcolm MacPhail, wull ye daur insult a maiden wuman 'at's stude clear o' reproch till she's lang past the danger o' 't?
The moment Florimel heard Malcolm's voice she had left the house. Caley following had heard enough to know that there was a scuffle at least going on in the study, and her eye witnessed against her heart that Liftore could have no chance with the detested groom if the respect of the latter gave way: would MacPhail thrash his lordship? If he did, it would be well she should know it.
"All the better for us," returned Caley. "Her room ain't ready for her. But I didn't know you lodged with Mrs Merton, MacPhail," she said, with a look at the luggage he had placed on the floor. "Lawks, miss!" cried the good woman, "wherever should we put him up, as has but the next room?" "You'll have to find that out, mother," said Merton. "Sure you've got enough to shake down for him!
There's no sic a bein' o' the face o' the yearth, as a descendant o' that Glenlyon." "It makes little difference, I fear," said Mrs Courthope, who was no bad logician. "The question isn't whether or not there's anybody to forgive, but whether Duncan MacPhail is willing to forgive." "That I do believe he is, mem; though he wad be as sair astonished to hear 't as ye are yersel'."
The last gang of them was destroyed in the following manner by one Macphail in the Rinns: Seeing Macdonald and his men coming, he set about splitting the trunk of a tree, in which he had partly succeeded by the time they had reached. He requested the visitors to lend a hand.
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