"I wad raither tell 't i' the gloamin' roon' a winter fire," said
Malcolm, with another anxious look at Lady Florimel.
"Do go on," she said. "I want so much to hear it!"
"Go on," said the marquis; and Malcolm, seating himself near them,
began.
I need not again tell my reader that he may take a short cut if he
pleases.
"There was ance a great nobleman--like yersel', my lord, only no
sae douce--an' he had a great followin', and was thoucht muckle
o' in a' the country, frae John o' Groat's to the Mull o' Gallowa'.
But he was terrible prood, an' thoucht naebody was to compare wi'
him, nor onything 'at onybody had, to compare wi' onything 'at he
had. His horse war aye swifter, an' his kye aye better milkers nor
ither fowk's; there war nae deer sae big nor had sic muckle horns
as the reid deer on his heelan' hills; nae gillies sae strang's
his gillies; and nae castles sae weel biggit or sae auld as his!
It may ha' been a' verra true for onything I ken, or onything the
story says to the contrar'; but it wasna heumble or Christian-like
o' him to be aye at it, ower an' ower, aye gloryin'--as gien he
had a'thing sae by ord'nar' 'cause he was by ord'nar' himsel', an'
they a' cam till him by the verra natur' o' things. There was but
ae thing in which he was na fawvoured, and that was, that he had
nae son to tak up what he left. But it maittered the less, that
the teetle as weel's the lan's, wad, as the tale tells, gang a'
the same till a lass bairn--an' a lass bairn he had.
Pages:
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393