I doobt, mem, ye hae lost yer chance wi' him and maun du yer
best to be content withoot him--I'll promise ye this muckle, gien
ye like--I s' tell him what ye hae said upo' the subjec'."
"Much good that will be!" replied the lady, with ill concealed
scorn.
"Ye think he wadna unnerstan' 't; but he unnerstan's wonnerfu'."
"And you would come again, and tell me what he said?' she murmured,
with the eager persuasiveness of reviving hope.
"Maybe ay, maybe no--I winna promise.--Hae ye ony answer to
sen' back to my lord's letter, mem?"
"No; I cannot write; I cannot even think. You have made me so
miserable!"
Malcolm lingered.
"Go, go;" said the lady dejectedly. "Tell your master I am not
well. I will write tomorrow. If you hear anything of my poor boy,
do take pity upon me and come and tell me."
The stiffer partizan Malcolm appeared, the more desirable did it
seem in Mrs Stewart's eyes to gain him over to her side. Leaving
his probable active hostility out of the question, she saw plainly
enough that, if he were called on to give testimony as to the laird's
capacity, his witness would pull strongly against her plans; while,
if the interests of such a youth were wrapped up in them, that fact
in itself would prejudice most people in favour of them.
CHAPTER XXXVI: THE BLOW
"Well, Malcolm," said his lordship, when the youth reported himself,
"how's Mrs Stewart?"
"No ower weel pleased, my lord," answered Malcolm.
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