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Updated: June 19, 2025
"Aggie, I wadna willinl'y say a word to vex ye," answered Cosmo; "but I hae notit an h'ard 'at the best 'o wuman whiles tak oonaccootable fancies to men no fit to haud a can'le to them." Aggie turned her head aside. "I wad ill like you, for instance, to be drawn to yon Crawford," he went on. "It's eneuch to me 'at he's been lang the factotum o' an ill man."
"Hoots, Grizzie, wuman!" he said, "was na ye jist tellin' me no to heed him a hair? An' no ae hair wad I heed him,'cep' it wad gie ony rist til's puir wan'erin' sowl." "I but thoucht the thing worth a thoucht, laird," said Grizzie, humbly and apologetically; and with a kind "Guid nicht to ye, laird," turned away, and went up the stairs to her room.
I maun hae been walkin' i' my sleep!" said Jean to herself aloud. "Or maybe that guid laddie Donal Grant's been wullin' to gie me a helpin' han' for's mither's sake, honest wuman! The laddie's guid eneuch for onything! ay, gien 'twar to mak' a minister o'!" Eagerly, greedily, Gibbie now watched her every motion, and, bent upon learning, nothing escaped him: he would do much better next morning!
Malcolm had taken the child from her, and was clasping him to his bosom. "He's the warst rascal, Lizzy," he said, "'at ever God made an' the deevil blaudit." "Na, na," cried Lizzy; "the likes o' him whiles kills the wuman, but he wadna du that. Na, na, he's nae the warst: there's a heap waur nor him." "Did ye see my mistress?" asked Malcolm. "Ow ay, but she luikit sae angry at me, I cudna speyk.
"'Cause she was set on haudin her tongue. Was she to bring an owre true tale o' me to the vera hoose I was born in? As lang as I haud til my tongue, she'll never wag hers! Eh, but she's a true ane! She's ane to lippen til!" "Weel, I alloo, she's deen as a wuman sud the faut bein a' her ain!" "The faut bein' a' mine, mother, she wouldna tell what would disgrace me!"
But ye'll mak allooance, my lady; for ye hae a true hert, an' maun ken 'at whan a wuman sees a man beirin' a'thing as gien it was naething,'maist like a God, no kennin' he's duin' onything by or'nar, she can no more help loein' him nor the mither 'at bore her, or the God 'at made her.
Never ane o' them was ower black to be latten gang close up til him; and some o' sic women un'erstede things he said 'at mony a respectable wuman cudna get a glimp o'! There's aye rain eneuch, as Maister Shaksper says, i' the sweet haivens to wash the vera han' o' murder as white as snow. The creatin hert is fu' o' sic rain.
"You don't surely despise the poor fellow so much as to scorn to have the same parents with him!" said Mr Graham. "The verra contrar', sir. But a wuman wha wad sae misguide the son o' her ain body, an' for naething but that, as she had broucht him furth, sic he was! it 's no to be lichtly believed nor lichtly endured. I s' awa' to Miss Horn an' see whether she 's h'ard ony sic leeing clashes."
"An' didna ye hear the minister read frae the buik 'at hoo ilka guid an' ilka perfit gift was frae abune, an' cam frae the Father o' lichts?" "Father o' lichts!" repeated the laird, and looked up at the stars. "I dinna ken whaur I cam frae. I hae nae father. I hae only a ... I hae only a wuman."
"Is that wuman furth the hoose, Jean?" she asked, in the tone of one who waited her answer in the affirmative as a preliminary condition of all further conversation. "She's gane, mem," answered Jean adding to herself in a wordless thought, "I'm no sayin' whaur." "She's a wuman I wadna hae ye throng wi', Jean." "I ken no ill o' her, mem," returned Jean.
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