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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Malcolm"

"The wa's o' the
auld carcass are 'maist live rock, an' 'ill stan' the warst win'
'at ever blew--this side o' the tropics, ony gait. Gien 't war
ance to get its nose in, I wadna say but it micht tirr (strip) the
rufe, but it winna blaw 's intil the burn, my leddy. I'll jist gang
and see what's the mischeef."
He was moving away, but Lady Florimel stopped him. "No, no,
Malcolm!" she said. "It's very silly of me, I dare say; but I've
been so frightened. They're such a set of geese--Mrs Courthope,
and the butler, and all of them! Don't leave me, please."
"I maun gang and see what's amiss, my leddy," answered Malcolm;
"but ye can come wi' me gien ye like. What's fa'en, div ye think?"
"Nobody knows. It fell with a noise like thunder, and shook the
whole house."
"It's far ower dark to see onything frae the ootside," rejoined
Malcolm, "at least afore the mune's up. It's as dark's pick. But I
can sune saitisfee mysel' whether the deil 's i' the hoose or no."
He took a candle from the hall table, and went up the square
staircase, followed by Florimel.
"What w'y is 't, my leddy, 'at the hoose is no lockit up, an' ilka
body i' their beds?" he asked.
"My father is coming home tonight. Didn't you know? But I should
have thought a storm like this enough to account for people not
being in bed!"
"It's a fearfu' nicht for him to be sae far frae his! Whaur's he
comin' frae! Ye never speyk to me noo, my leddy, an' naebody tell't
me.


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