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But he'll be like his great Father, and forgie us baith!" As soon as Maggie had given the child to his mother, she went to her father, and sat down beside him, crying softly. He turned on his leather stool, and looked at her. "Canna ye rejice wi' them that rejice, noo that ye hae nane to greit wi', Maggie, my doo?" he said. "Ye haena lost ane, and ye hae gaint twa!
She burst into tears, but dried her eyes a moment after, and seeing that Robert still lingered, said, 'Gang, Robert, an' sen' Mistress Downie to me. Dinna greit there's a gude lad; but tak yer fiddle an' gang. Ye can be no more use. Robert obeyed. With his violin in his hand, he went home; and, with his violin still in his hand, walked into his grandmother's parlour.
According to Knox, Mary laughed a horse laugh when he entered, saying, "Yon man gart me greit, and grat never tear himself. I will see gif I can gar him greit." Her Scots, textually reported, was certainly idiomatic. Knox acknowledged his letter to the Congregation, and Lethington suggested that he might apologise.
Then came the Queen "with no little worldly pomp," and took the chair between those two rows of troubled counsellors, Lethington at one side, Maxwell at the other. She gave an angry laugh as she took her place. "Yon man gart me greit, and grat never tear himself: I will see if I can gar him greit."
"Tere 'll pe something cone wrong with you, Malcolm, my son!" he cried. "You'll pe hafing a hurt! She knows it. She has it within her, though she couldn't chust see it. Where is it?" As he spoke he proceeded to feel his head and face. "God pless her sowl! you are plooding, Malcolm!" he cried the same moment. "It's naething to greit aboot, daddy. It's hardly mair nor the flype o' a sawmon's tail."
Not discouraged by her inspection of his hands, black as they were, Miss St. John continued, 'But what would your grandmother say? she asked. 'She maun ken naething aboot it, mem. I can-not tell her a'thing. She wad greit an' pray awfu', an' lock me up, I daursay. Ye see, she thinks a' kin' o' music 'cep' psalm-singin' comes o' the deevil himsel'. An' I canna believe that.
'I was mysel' dreidfu' miserable for a while, Robert resumed, 'for I cudna see or hear God at a'; but God heard me, and loot me ken that he was there an' that a' was richt. It was jist like whan a bairnie waukens up an' cries oot, thinkin' it 's its lane, an' through the mirk comes the word o' the mither o' 't, sayin', "I'm here, cratur: dinna greit."
It is not the habit that makes the Monck. It is not good to want, and to have. It hes neither , nor elbow. I shall sit on his skirt. It is a bare Moor that he goes over, and gets not a Cow. I shall hold his Nose to the Grindstone. It goes as meiklle in his heart, as in his heel. It goes in at one ear, and out at the other. It is na mair pitty to see a Woman greit, nor to see a Goose go barefoot.
"Come hame, and be a guid bairn, and ill man sall never touch ye, or gar ye greit ony mair! There's my man waitin for ye, to tak ye, and haud ye safe!" Isy looked up, and over the shoulder of her hostess saw the strong paternal face of the farmer, full of silent welcome. For the strange emotion that filled him he did not seek to account: he had nothing to do with that; his will was lord over it!
"Ye may say I was a muckle gowk. And ye may lauch at a bairn for greitin' efter the mune; but I doot that same avarice o' the wee man comes frae a something in him that he wad be ill aff wi'oot. Better greit for the mune than no be cawpable o' greetin' for the mune. And weel I wat, I grat for the mune, or a' was dune, and didna get it, ony mair than the lave o' my greedy wee brithers."
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