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Much preoccupied, he went off at once, with the animated little muff of a dog at his heels. In truth, Mr. Traill was thinking about how he might best plead Bobby's cause with the Lord Provost. The note that was handed him, on leaving the Burgh court the day before, had read: "Meet me at the Regent's Tomb in St. Giles at eight o'clock in the morning, and bring the wee Highlander with you.
Miss Traill will tell you as you go. In God's name, madam, take my word for it, and do as I bid you." "He... he saved me," sobbed Miss Traill. "Saved you?" Miss Bishop was aghast. "Saved you from what, Mary?" "Let that wait," snapped Mr. Blood almost angrily. "You've all the night for chattering when you're out of this, and away beyond their reach.
Kate, as I have said, the fairest of the whole, married an officer in the army of the name of Traill, and went out to Canada, and wrote there a book called ‘The Backwoods of Canada,’ which was certainly one of the most popular of the four-and-sixpenny volumes published under the auspices of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful and Entertaining Knowledge.
It was to these poor people around the kirkyard, themselves forgotten by the more fortunate, that the little dog must look for his daily meed of affection and companionship. Mr. Traill spoke to them kindly. "Bide a wee, noo, an' I'll fetch the doggie doon." Bobby had slept blissfully nearly all the day, after his exhausting labors and torturing pains.
The landlord was so relieved to see him again, after five conscience stricken days, that he stooped to clap the little dog on the side and to greet him with jocose approval. "Gude dog to fetch Auld Jock " With a faint and piteous cry that was heard by no one but Mr. Traill, Bobby toppled over on the floor.
They strained their ears; lips half parted on which the breath waited, to listen. The sounds, muffled, were broken at moments by a subdued chorus of men's voices. Traill crossed the room to the door that opened into his bedroom; unlatched it, held it wide. Sally watched his face with half-expectant eyes. "There's a yard at the back," he said; "my bedroom looks on to it. Excuse me a second."
It's just a sma' matter I can attend to my ainsel'. Do you think he could be out the morn?" "No' afore a week or twa, an' syne, gin the bonny sun comes oot to bide a wee." Mr. Traill left the kirkyard and went out to George Square to call upon the minister of Greyfriars auld kirk.
Isn't it natural that a man should hate a scene of that kind? I only hope that you won't think I easily faint; I don't; I've never " Traill leant forward on his knees. Understanding was dawning in him, it burnt a light in his eyes. "Do you want to come again, then?" he asked. So keen was he upon getting his answer, that he could not see the climax of hysteria towards which he was bringing her.
Even when that word was uttered, loathsome enough in itself for a woman's ears, yet indicative of many worse that were to come, Traill did not think of Sally. She glanced at him when she had heard it, remembering what he had once said to her "I belong to the National Sporting because there's a beast in every man thank God!" The two combatants sifted their way out of the little crowds.
For at such a time as this it was no more than likely that the wretched plantation slaves might be in revolt and prove as great a danger as the Spaniards. But at the sound of her voice, the girl Mr. Blood had rescued peered up through the gloom. "Arabella!" she called. "It is I, Mary Traill." "Mary!" The voice ceased above on that exclamation, the head was withdrawn.
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