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Updated: June 27, 2025
As soon as all was over, Malcolm set out to return home. As he passed Joseph Mair's cottage, he found Phemy waiting for him at the door, still in the mild splendour of her pearl-like necklace. "I tellt the laird what ye tellt me to tell him, Malcolm," she said. "An' what did he say, Phemy?" asked Malcolm. "He said he kent ye was a freen'." "Was that a'?" "Ay; that was a'."
Shall I tell them where I am going?" "Yes, my lady. It will be better. They will look amazed for all their breeding!" "Whose boat is it, that I may be able to tell them if they should ask me?" "Joseph Mair's. He and his wife will come and fetch you. Annie Mair will go with us if I may say us: will you allow me to go in your boat, my lady?" "I couldn't go without you, Malcolm."
Rotha was in the cottage once again almost before she had been missed. Joe was dozing fitfully. His mother was sighing and whimpering in turns. Her wrinkled face, no longer rigid, was a distressing spectacle. When Rotha came close to her she whispered, "The lad was wrang, but I dare not have telt 'im so. Yon man were none of a father to Joe, though he were my husband, mair's the pity."
"Ay, very true, Bauldie, but that was in the time o' the blackfaces they believed a hantle queer things in thae days, that naebody heeds since the lang sheep cam in." "The mair's the pity, the mair's the pity," said the old man.
It being well known that Joseph Mair's cottage was one of the laird's resorts, Malcolm, as soon as he learned his flight, set out to inquire whether they knew anything of him there. Scaurnose was perched almost on the point of the promontory, where the land made its final slope, ending in a precipitous descent to the shore.
His Honour, ye see, being under hiding in thae sair times the mair's the pity he lies a' day, and whiles a' night, in the cove in the dern hag; but though it's a bieldy eneugh bit, and the auld gudeman o' Corse-Cleugh has panged it wi' a kemple o' strae amaist, yet when the country's quiet, and the night very cauld, his Honour whiles creeps doun here to get a warm at the ingle and a sleep amang the blankets, and gangs awa in the morning.
He can aye be tryin' 't upo' 's wife, or 's guid mother, or upo' 's boat, or upo' the fish whan they winna tak. Loagic wad save a heap o' cursin' an' ill words amo' the fisher fowk, I mean, my lord." "Have you been to college?" "Na, my lord the mair's the pity! But I've been to the school sin' ever I can min'." "Do they teach logic there?" "A kin' o' 't. "You don't mean you go to school still?"
Mair's, and remained there; for it was not thought safe to move me; they feared inflammation, and they feared locked-jaw. My father was written to, and came; and when he left after the danger was over he made arrangements with Dr. Mair to keep me on, for he was a skilful man, and wished to perfect the cure. I thought the prolonged stay in the strange, quiet house worse than all the rest.
I ha'e seen him whiles sair concernt for ither fowk." "'At they wouldna hand wi' him, and war condemnt in consequence wasna that it?" "I canna answer ye that, bairn." "Weel, I ken he doesna like you no ae wee bit. He's aye girdin at ye to ither fowk!" "May be: the mair's the need I sud lo'e him." "But noo can ye, father?"
"Duncan MacPhail's nae bluid o' mine the mair's the pity!" said Malcolm sadly and told her all he knew. Miss Horn's visage went through wonderful changes as he spoke. "Weel, it is a mercy I hae nae feelin's!" she said when he had done. "Ony wuman can lay a claim till me 'at likes, ye see," said Malcolm.
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