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Updated: May 26, 2025
"Because, sae far as I see, she canna think that ye hae left a' for him." "Ah, that is what you have been teaching her! She does not say that of herself! You have not left her free to choose!" "The queston never came up atween's. She's perfecly free to tak her ain gait and she kens she is!
"What ken ye aboot him, gin it be a fair queston?" "I hae kent him, sir, sin he was a bairn. I perilled his life�-no my ain�-to gar him do his duty. I trust in God it wad hae been easier for me to hae perilled my ain. Sae ye see I do ken aboot him." "Weel," said Mr Cupples, to whom the nature of Thomas had begun to open itself, "I alloo that. Whaur do ye bide? What's yer name?
" poor deluded craters, withoot losin' a great pairt o' what was left in him o' the eemage o' God efter the fall. "Hoo sud ye ken onything aboot that, Anerew?" returned his wife sharply. "The same way than ye ken sae weel aboot the she side o' the queston, lass. We may jist enlichten ane anither a wee aboot some things, mayhap."
I wantit to see whether ye was richt or wrang; an' as algebra luiket the maist oonlikly thing, I thoucht I wad taikle that, an' sae sattle the queston at ance. But, eh me! I'm sair feart ye was i' the wrang, Cosmo!" "I maun du my best to pruv mysel' i' the richt," returned Cosmo. "I never said onybody cud learn a' o' themsel's, wantin' help, ye ken.
"It's no like it, my lord," returned Blue Peter, "whan the first thing I say is what wad ye ha'e o' me? Here I am no speirin' a queston!" "Weel, I wad ha'e ye hear the story o' 't a'." "Say on, my lord," said Peter. But Malcolm was silent for a few moments. "I was thinkin', Peter," he said at last, "whether I cud bide to hear you say my lord to me.
She glanced at him now and then, but would not seem to notice him much. He gazed for two or three minutes, and then said, in a low, doubtful, almost timid, voice, 'Kirsty? 'Ay; what is't, Francie? returned Kirsty. 'Is't yersel, Kirsty? he said. 'Ay, wha ither, Francie! 'Are ye angry at me, Kirsty? 'No a grain. What gars ye speir sic a queston?
"Wha am I, to be speirt sic a queston! Wha but yersel' wad hae daurt it, Mistress Mellis?" "I hae nae wuss to pry intill ony secrets o' yours, or " "Secrets!" shouted Miss Horn! But her consciousness of good intent, and all but assurance of final victory, upheld Mrs Mellis. "The parlour blind 's gane up crookit sin' ever that thoomb fingert cratur, Watty Witherspail, made a new roller till 't.
And, puir man! it was waur for him nor for me and Milton; for it was a' his ain wyte; and it was no to be expecket he cud be sae quaiet as anither. But he had no richt to queston the ways o' the Maker. But it's bonnie, rael bonnie." "Noo, I'll jist read to ye what Milton says aboot his ain blin'ness. But it's some ill to unnerstan'." "Maybe I'll unnerstan' 't better nor you, bairn. Read awa'."
"Ye speired nae queston, my lord; an' gien ye had, my word has ower little weicht to answer wi'." "Can I trust you, woman I want to know," said his lordship angrily. "No far'er, my lord, nor to du what I think 's richt." "I want to be certain that you will do nothing with those letters until you hear from me?" said the marquis, heedless of her reply. "I 'll du naething afore the morn.
"I'm used to bein' mista'en'," answered Cupples simply, perceiving that he had got hold of a character. "Mak nae apologies, I beg ye, but answer my queston." "Weel, sir, to tell the trowth, seein' ye're a gentleman, we hae a room oorsels. But it's a garret-room, and maybe�-" "Then I'll hae't, whatever it be, gin ye dinna want ower muckle for't."
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