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Updated: June 5, 2025
The landlord came in with whisky, and banked up the peats till they glowed beneath a pall of blue smoke. "I hope to goodness we are alone," said Thirlstone, and he turned to the retreating landlord and asked the question. "There's naebody bidin' the nicht forbye yoursels," he said, "but the morn there's a gentleman comin'. I got a letter frae him the day. Maister Wiston, they ca him.
The old lady gave a kind of Scotch guttural sound expressive of disappointment, and said, "I'll no say but I've seen the like beetle-broo. But we'll waken the bairn with our clavers. I'll away the noo. Maister Gorion will see her again ere night, but it were ill to break her sleep, the puir lassie!"
An' he do play on the viddle that beautiful that beautiful, why, 'tis the zame if he war a angel from heaven. Viddler Moore, he wur up here wi' his music last night; an' Maister McGregor, he took the instrument vrom un, an' 'Let ME have a try, my vrend, says he, all modest and unassoomin'; and vi' that, he wounded it up, an' he begun to play. Lard, how he did play.
"Naither has yer lordship." "Well, what are they to be?" "Whatever ye think proper, my lord. Only dinna gar me gang to Maister Crathie for them." The marquis had sent away the man who was waiting when Malcolm entered, and during this conversation Malcolm had of his own accord been doing his best to supply his place. The meal ended, Lady Florimel desired him to wait a moment in the hall.
"What for speak na ye, Ma'colm?" said Miss Horn, at length. "I was jist tryin'," he answered, "to min' upon a twa lines 'at I cam' upo' the ither day in a buik 'at Maister Graham gied me afore he gaed awa 'cause I reckon he kent them a' by hert. They say jist sic like's ye been sayin', mem gien I cud but min' upo' them.
He ain't workin' at all, at all, bad cess to him, who ivver he is, fur I can't say him at all, at all!" "Whoi, I be a-shuvvin' and a-shuvvin' all the time," rejoined a voice whose accents were strangely familiar to me. "You pull yerself, maister, and stop hollerin' at Oi!"
"Heare therefore, thou senceless false lewd spirit, maister of devils, miserable creature, tempter of men, deceaver of bad angels, captaine of heretiques, father of lyes, fatuous bestial ninnie, drunkard, infernal theefe, wicked serpent, ravening woolfe, leane hunger-bitten impure sow, seely beast, truculent beast, cruel beast, bloody beast, beast of all blasts, the most bestiall acherontall spirit, smoakie spirit, Tartareus spirit!"
"Maister Gordon," said Marget, "this is George's Homer, and he bade me tell you that he coonted yir freendship ain o' the gifts o' God." For a brief space Gordon was silent, and, when he spoke, his voice sounded strange in that room. "Your son was the finest scholar of my time, and a very perfect gentleman. He was also my true friend, and I pray God to console his mother."
Mulready exclaimed, rising suddenly from her invalid chair. "What do you mean by saying that it is all over?" and she seized the old nurse's arm with an eager grasp. "Don't excite yourself so, mistress. You have been sore tried, but it is over now, and today all the world will know as Maister Ned is proved to be innocent.
Why didn't you tell me about it?" "Yes, Maister Ned," Abijah put in, "and they say as you blew up about a thousand of them." "Yes, Abijah," Ned said with a laugh, "and the pieces haven't come down yet." "No! but really, Ned, what is it all about?" "There is not much to tell you, Charlie. The Luddites came and broke open the door.
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