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Updated: May 31, 2025
Disna he ken there's ten times mair to be made o' ae gentleman like you, wi'siller at his back, nor ten common men sic as he's like to get for his dothers? Weel kens he it's nae faut o' you or yours 'at ye're no freely sae weel aff as some 'at oucht an' wull be waur, gien it be the Lord's wull, or a' be dune!
As if to satisfy herself once more ere she replied, she took the miniature, and gazed at it for some time. Then with a deep hopeless sigh, she answered, 'Ay, it's like him; but it's no himsel'. Eh, the bonny broo, an' the smilin' een o' him! smilin' upon a'body, an' upo' her maist o' a', till he took to the drink, and waur gin waur can be.
That was why a' the folks yer grand freen's, I mean were sae angry because ye had Liz here. But I believed in her mysel' up till she ran awa'. Although a lassie's led awa' she's no' aye lost; but I doot, I doot an' noo Liz is waur than we thocht. Gladys stood as if turned to stone. Slowly a dim comprehension seemed to dawn upon her; and it is no exaggeration to say that it was a shock of agony.
"Well?" she returned, without even lifting her eyes, for, with the inherited privilege of her rank, she could be insolent with coolness, and call it to mind without remorse. "I houp the bit buikie wasna muckle the waur, my leddy," he said. "'Tis of no consequence," she replied. "Gien it war mine, I wadna think sae," he returned, eyeing her anxiously.
"What!" exclaimed Morton, "it was you that sat in your red cloak by the high-road, and told him there was a lion in the path?" "In the name of Heaven! wha are ye?" said the old woman, breaking off her narrative in astonishment. "But be wha ye may," she continued, resuming it with tranquillity, "ye can ken naething waur o' me than that I hae been willing to save the life o' friend and foe."
Mac-Candlish, and hastened to light the way with all the imperative bustle which an active landlady loves to display on such occasions. 'Young man, said the Deacon to the servant, filling a glass, 'ye'll no be the waur o' this, after your ride. 'Not a feather, sir; thank ye, your very good health, sir. 'And wha may your master be, friend?
The first was, the memory of Sir Robert Redgauntlet, and may he never lie quiet in his grave till he had righted his poor bond-tenant; and the second was, a health to Man's Enemy, if he would but get him back the pock of siller, or tell him what came o' 't, for he saw the haill world was like to regard him as a thief and a cheat, and he took that waur than even the ruin of his house and hauld.
But I aye like waur to meet Sandy by himsel' upo' that reekit deevil o' his. Man, it's awfu' whan Black Geordie turns the white o' 's ee, an' the white o' 's teeth upo' ye. It's a' the white 'at there is about 'im. 'Wasna yer brither i' the airmy, Shargar? 'Ow, 'deed ay. They tell me he was at Watterloo. He's a cornel, or something like that. 'Wha tellt ye a' that?
There's no a sowl wants this hoose to stan' but the mistress doon there, that doesna want to waur the siller, and the rottans inside the wa's o' 't, that doesna want to fa' into the cluiks o' Bawdrins and Colley wha lie in wait for sic like jist as the deevil does for the sowl o' the heepocreet. Come oot o' the sun, lassie.
I maun just sing a bit to keep up my heart It's a sang that Gentle George made on me lang syne, when I went with him to Lockington wake, to see him act upon a stage, in fine clothes, with the player folk. He might hae dune waur than married me that night as he promised better wed over the mixen* as over the moor, as they say in Yorkshire
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