CHAPTER XX: ADVANCES
When he woke, Duncan still slept, and Malcolm having got ready some
tea for his grandfather's, and a little brose for his own breakfast,
sat down again by the bedside, and awaited the old man's waking. The
first sign of it that reached him was the feebly uttered question,
--"Will ta tog be tead, Malcolm?"
"As sure 's ye stabbit him," answered Malcolm.
"Then she 'll pe getting herself ready," said Duncan, making a
motion to rise.
"What for, daddy?"
"For ta hanging, my son," answered Duncan coolly.
"Time eneuch for that, daddy, whan they sen' to tell ye," returned
Malcolm, cautious of revealing the facts of the case.
"Ferry coot!" said Duncan, and fell asleep again.
In a little while he woke with a start.
"She 'll be hafing an efil tream, my son Malcolm," he said; "or it
was 'll pe more than a tream. Cawmill of Clenlyon, Cod curse him!
came to her pedside; and he'll say to her, 'MacDhonuill,' he said,
for pein' a tead man he would pe knowing my name,--'MacDhonuill,'
he said, 'what tid you'll pe meaning py turking my posterity?' And
she answered and said to him, 'I pray it had peen yourself, you
tamned Clenlyon.' And he said to me, 'It 'll pe no coot wishing tat;
it would be toing you no coot to turk me, for I'm a tead man.'--
'And a tamned man,' says herself, and would haf taken him py ta
troat, put she couldn't mofe. 'Well, I'm not so sure of tat,' says
he, 'for I 'fe pecked all teir partons.'--'And tid tey gif tem
to you, you tog?' says herself.--'Well, I'm not sure,' says he;
'anyhow, I'm not tamned fery much yet.'--'She'll pe much sorry
to hear it,' says herself. And she took care aalways to pe calling
him some paad name, so tat he shouldn't say she 'll be forgifing
him, whatever ta rest of tem might be toing. 'Put what troubles
me,' says he, 'it 'll not pe apout myself at aall.'--'Tat 'll
pe a wonter,' says her nain sel': 'and what may it pe apout, you
cuttroat?'--'It 'll pe apout yourself,' says he. 'Apout herself?'
--'Yes; apout yourself' says he. 'I'm sorry for you--for ta ting
tat's to pe tone with him tat killed a man aal pecaase he pore my
name, and he wasn't a son of mine at aall! Tere is no pot in hell
teep enough to put him in!'--'Ten tey must make haste and tig
one,' says herself; 'for she 'll pe hangt in a tay or two.'--So
she 'll wake up, and beholt it was a tream!"
"An' no sic an ill dream efter a', daddy!" said Malcolm.
"Not an efil tream, my son, when it makes her aalmost wish that
she hadn't peen quite killing ta tog! Last night she would haf made
a puoy of his skin like any other tog's skin, and totay--no, my
son, it wass a fery efil tream. And to be tolt tat ta creat tefil,
Clenlyon herself, was not fery much tamned!--it wass a fery efil
tream, my son."
"Weel, daddy--maybe ye 'll tak it for ill news, but ye killed
naebody."
"Tid she'll not trive her turk into ta tog?" cried Duncan fiercely.
"Och hone! och hone!--Then she 's ashamed of herself for efer,
when she might have tone it. And it 'll hafe to be tone yet!"
He paused a few moments, and then resumed:
"And she'll not pe coing to be hangt?--Maype tat will pe petter,
for you wouldn't hafe liket to see your olt cranfather to pe hangt,
Malcolm, my son. Not tat she would hafe minted it herself in such
a coot caause, Malcolm! Put she tidn't pe fery happy after she
tid think she had tone it, for you see he wasn't ta fery man his
ownself, and tat must pe counted. But she tid kill something: what
was it, Malcolm?"
"Ye sent a gran' dish fleein'," answered Malcolm. "I s' warran' it
cost a poun', to jeedge by the gowd upo' 't."
"She'll hear a noise of preaking; put she tid stap something soft."
"Ye stack yer durk intill my lord's mahogany table," said Malcolm.
"It nott (needed) a guid rug (pull) to haul't oot."
"Then her arm has not lost aal its strength, Malcolm! I pray ta
taple had peen ta rips of Clenlyon!"
"Ye maunna pray nae sic prayers, daddy. Min' upo' what Glenlyon said
to ye last nicht. Gien I was you I wadna hae a pot howkit express
for mysel'--doon yonner--i' yon place 'at ye dreamed aboot."
"Well, I'll forgife him a little, Malcolm--not ta one tat's
tead, but ta one tat tidn't do it, you know.--Put how will she
pe forgifing him for ripping her poor pag? Och hone! och hone!
No more musics for her tying tays, Malcolm! Och hone! och hone! I
shall co creeping to ta crafe with no loud noises to defy ta enemy.
Her pipes is tumb for efer and efer. Och hone! och hone!"
The lengthening of his days had restored bitterness to his loss.
"I'll sune set the bag richt, daddy. Or, gien I canna du that,
we'll get a new ane. Mony a pibroch 'll come skirlin' oot o' that
chanter yet er' a' be dune."
They were interrupted by the unceremonious entrance of the same
footman who had brought the invitation. He carried a magnificent
set of ebony pipes, with silver mountings.
"A present from my lord, the marquis," he said bumptiously, almost
rudely, and laid them on the table.
"Dinna lay them there; tak them frae that, or I'll fling them yer
poothered wig," said Malcolm. "--It's a stan' o' pipes," he added,
"an' that a gran' ane, daddy."
"Take tem away!" cried the old man, in a voice too feeble to support
the load of indignation it bore. "She'll pe taking no presents from
marquis or tuke tat would pe teceifing old Tuncan, and making him
trink with ta cursed Clenlyon. Tell ta marquis he 'll pe sending
her cray hairs with sorrow to ta crafe; for she 'll pe tishonoured
for efer and henceforth."
Probably pleased to be the bearer of a message fraught with so much
amusement, the man departed in silence with the pipes.
The marquis, although the joke had threatened, and indeed so far
taken a serious turn, had yet been thoroughly satisfied with its
success. The rage of the old man had been to his eyes ludicrous
in the extreme, and the anger of the young one so manly as to be
even picturesque. He had even made a resolve, half dreamy and of
altogether improbable execution, to do something for the fisher
fellow.
The pipes which he had sent as a solatium to Duncan, were a set
that belonged to the house--ancient, and in the eyes of either
connoisseur or antiquarian, exceedingly valuable; but the marquis
was neither the one nor the other, and did not in the least mind
parting with them. As little did he doubt a propitiation through
their means, was utterly unprepared for a refusal of his gift, and
was nearly as much perplexed as annoyed thereat.
For one thing, he could not understand such offence taken by one
in Duncan's lowly position; for although he had plenty of highland
blood in his own veins, he had never lived in the Highlands, and
understood nothing of the habits or feelings of the Gael. What was
noble in him, however, did feel somewhat rebuked, and he was even
a little sorry at having raised a barrier between himself and the
manly young fisherman, to whom he had taken a sort of liking from
the first.
Of the ladies in the drawing room, to whom he had recounted the
vastly amusing joke with all the graphic delineation for which he
had been admired at court, none, although they all laughed, had
appeared to enjoy the bad recital thoroughly, except the bold faced
countess. Lady Florimel regarded the affair as undignified at the
best, was sorry for the old man, who must be mad, she thought,
and was pleased only with the praises of her squire of low degree.
The wound in his hand the marquis either thought too trifling to
mention, or serious enough to have clouded the clear sky of frolic
under which he desired the whole transaction to be viewed.
They were seated at their late breakfast when the lackey passed
the window on his return from his unsuccessful mission, and the
marquis happened to see him, carrying the rejected pipes. He sent
for him, and heard his report, then with a quick nod dismissed him
--his way when angry, and sat silent.
"Wasn't it spirited--in such poor people too?" said Lady Florimel,
the colour rising in her face, and her eyes sparkling.
"It was damned impudent," said the marquis.
"I think it was damned dignified," said Lady Florimel.
The marquis stared. The visitors, after a momentary silence, burst
into a great laugh.
"I wanted to see," said Lady Florimel calmly, "whether I couldn't
swear if I tried. I don't think it tastes nice. I shan't take to
it, I think."
"You'd better not in my presence, my lady," said the marquis, his
eyes sparkling with fun.
"I shall certainly not do it out of your presence, my lord," she
returned. "--Now I think of it," she went on, "I know what I will
do: every time you say a bad word in my presence, I shall say it
after you. I shan't mind who's there--parson or magistrate. Now
you'll see."
"You will get into the habit of it."
"Except you get out of the habit of it first, papa," said the girl,
laughing merrily.
"You confounded little Amazon!" said her father.
"But what's to be done about those confounded pipes?" she resumed.
"You can't allow such people to serve you so! Return your presents,
indeed! Suppose I undertake the business?"
"By all means. What will you do?"
"Make them take them, of course. It would be quite horrible never
to be quits with the old lunatic."
"As you please, puss."
"Then you put yourself in my hands, papa?"
"Yes; only you must mind what you're about, you know."
"That I will, and make them mind too," she answered, and the subject
was dropped.
Lady Florimel counted upon her influence with Malcolm, and his
again with his grandfather; but careful of her dignity, she would
not make direct advances; she would wait an opportunity of speaking
to him. But, although she visited the sand hill almost every
morning, an opportunity was not afforded her. Meanwhile, the state
of Duncan's bag and of Malcolm's hand forbidding, neither pipes
were played nor gun was fired to arouse marquis or burgess. When
a fortnight had thus passed, Lady Florimel grew anxious concerning
the justification of her boast, and the more so that her father
seemed to avoid all reference to it.
