The Marquis of Lossie

th sprigs, coming down almost to her waist. She looked stern, determined, almost fierce, shook hands with a sort of loose dissatisfaction, and dropped int

ered the youth; "but I wad fa

ther wag or haud a leein' tongue. A gentleman maunna lee, no even by sayin' naething -- na, no gien 't war to win intill the kingdom. But, Guid be thankit, that's whaur leears never come. Maybe ye're thinkin' I ha'e sma' occasion to say sic like to yersel'. An' yet what's yer life but a lee, Ma

uiked for in ane o' the breed: they maun a' try the warl' first ony gait. There's a heap o' fowk -- an' no aye the warst, maybe," continued Malcolm, thi

. But I'm no sae muckle concernt aboot her. Only it's p

temptin' a

gien she was somebody mair nor mortal, when ye ken she's nae mair Marchioness o' Lossie nor ye're the son o

gane till's accoont; an it's weel for him he has

e, laddie," said Miss H

n'; an' ony gait he confesst her his wife an' me her

ing cud ha'e broucht him but the deid thraws (death struggles) o' the bodily natur' an' the fear o' hell, that same confession ye row up again i' the c

"or I wad be markis the morn. There's never a sowl kens she

ish nor power to reply,

sie Airms, an' that efter a' 'at I ha'e borne an' dune to mak a gentleman o' ye, bairdin' yer father here like a verra lion in 's den, an' garrin' him confess the

o hear my father spoken o' like that. For ye see I lo

ther an' mither's man and wife,

ace ye shawed me i' the coffin, the bonniest, sairest sich

the deid face o' her? Ye kent the l

deid face maist blottit t

-- Eh, laddie, but

I kent she was my ain sister, an' jist thoucht lang to win near eneuch till to du her ony guid turn worth duin? An' here I am, her ane half brither, wi' naething i' my pooer but to scaud the hert o' her, or else lee! Supposin' she was weel merried first, hoo wad she stan' wi' her man whan he cam to ken 'at she was nae marchioness -- hed no lawfu' richt to ony name but her mither's? An' afore that, what richt cud I ha

th the words, and

h," resumed Miss Horn,

as ye ken, mem. To mysel', I was never onything but a fisherman born. I confess 'at whiles, when we wad be lyin' i' the lee o' the nets, tethered to them like, wi' the win' bla

ye wad du, laddie?" a

nose for the puir fisher fowk 'at

s been for mony a generation sattlet upo' yer lan' -- though for the maitter o' the lan', they ha'e had little mair o' that than the birds o' the rock ha'e ohn feued -- an' them honest fowks wi' wives an' sowls o' their ain! Hoo upo' airth are ye to du yer duty by them, an' render yer acc

nce fo

ye, Ma'colm?" said

m gied me afore he gaed awa -- 'cause I reckon he kent them a' by hert. They say jist sic like's ye been sayin', mem

m," said Miss Horn, with

ken mair or lang though. T

happy warri

in arms shoul

rous Spirit, w

s of real life

at pleased his c

s what ye wad h

aud ye by that, Ma'colm, an' dinna ye rist till ye ha'e biggit a harbour to the men an' women o

ousness, though, mem, else -- what gi

o the Michty,"

n belangs to me. An' I'll no du't t

sae lang's ye hing on aboot a stable, fu' o' fower fittet

mem; and gien I cud but ta

he! Preserve's a'! The laad 'ill lat his ai

held h

' I maun gang,"

than?" aske

n'on -- wh

yer lordshi

jeerin' at me. What wad the caterpillar say," he add

onounced the Greek w

Miss Horn. "I ken 'at ye're bun' to be a lord and no a stabl

sayin' for the last thr

yin' 't upo' the braid o' yer back,

to du!" said Malcolm,

ed his friend. -- "Come an' tak yer supper wi' me the nicht -- a

lest it should interfere with