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Updated: May 28, 2025
"A puir, wee, hump backit cratur, wi' the face o' a gentleman." "I ken him weel," said Miss Horn. "He is a gentleman gien ever God made ane. But he 's sair afflickit. Whaur does he lie at nicht can ye tell me?" I wad hae weised him till a seat, but the moment II luikit at him, awa' he ran. He 's unco cheenged though, sin' the first time I saw him." Since he lost Phemy, fear had been slaying him.
'There's sma' hairm can come to ony man frae the trowth, Phemy! answered Kirsty. 'Set the man afore me, and I'll say word for word intil his face what I'm sayin to you ahint his back. 'Miss Barclay, rejoined Phemy, with a rather pitiable attempt at dignity, 'I can permit no one to call me by my Christian name who speaks ill of the man to whom I am engaged!
It was many weeks before Phemy was fit to go home. Her father came to see her now and then, but not very often: he had his duties to attend to, and his books consoled him. As soon as Phemy was able to leave her room, Steenie constituted himself her slave, and was ever within her call. He seemed always to know when she would prefer having him in sight, and when she would rather be alone.
"It's a michty howkin!" said Malcolm; "but for a' that it wadna haud ye frae the grip o' thae scoonrels: wharever ye ran they cud rin efter ye." "I think we cud sort them," said Phemy. But the hole's sae sma' at the laird has ill gettin' his puir hack throu' 't." "I couldna help won'erin' hoo he wan throu' at the tap there," said Malcolm.
'He winna ken whaur I am! answered Phemy with an agonized burst of dry sobbing. 'Will he no? I s' see to that and this verra nicht! exclaimed Kirsty. 'I'll gie him ilka chance o' doin the richt thing! 'But he'll be angert at me! 'What for? Did he tell ye no to tell? 'Ay did he. 'Waur and waur! cried Kirsty indignantly. 'He wad hae ye a' in his grup!
A little farther in, stretched on the floor, lay a human form on its face. She knew at once that it was Steenie's. The feet were toward her, and between her and them a pair of shoes: he was dead! he had got rid of his feet! he was gone after Phemy gone to the bonny man! She knelt, and turned the body over. Her heart was like a stone. She raised his head on her arm: it was plain he was dead.
He was already yards away, running at full speed. The marquis shouted after him, but Malcolm would not hear. When he reached the Baillies' Barn once more, all was still. He groped his way in and found his own lantern where they had been sitting, and having lighted it, descended and followed the windings of the cavern a long way, but saw nothing of the laird or Phemy.
If left with her, the moment Kirsty appeared again, the child would fling from her whatever might be in her hand, and flee as to her deliverer from bondage and hard labour. Then would Kirsty always insist on her finishing what she had been at, and Phemy would obey, with the protest of silent tears, and the airs of a much injured mortal.
"Ye'll tell me whaur ye think he is, Phemy?" "Na, I winna." "What for no?" "Ow, jist for fear ye sud ken." "But I'm a freen' till him." "Ye may think ay, an' the laird may think no." "Does he think you a freen', Phemy?" asked Malcolm, in the hope of coming at something by widening the sweep of the conversation. "Ay, he kens I'm a freen'," she replied. "An' do ye aye ken whaur he is?" "Na, no aye.
Or perhaps he was beside her in it, only he could leave it when he would! Surely anyhow Phemy must be with him! She could not be left all alone and she so silly! Steenie would have her to teach! His trouble must have gone the moment he died, but Phemy would have to find out what a goose she was! She would be very miserable, and would want Steenie!
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