"
"Divna ye think God made me, daddy?" asked Malcolm.
The old man thought for a little. "Tat will tepend on who was pe your
father, my son," he replied. "If he too will be a Cam'ell--ochone!
ochone! Put tere may pe some coot plood co into you--more as enough to
say God will pe make you, my son. Put don't pe asking, Malcolm--ton't
you'll pe asking."
"What am I no to ask, daddy?"
"Ton't pe asking who made you, who was ta father to you, my poy. She
would rather not pe knowing, for ta man might pe a Cam'ell poth. And
if she couldn't pe lofing you no more, my son, she would pe tie before
her time, and her tays would pe long in ta land under ta crass, my
son."
But the remembrance of the sweet face whose cold loveliness he had
once kissed was enough to outweigh with Malcolm all the prejudices of
Duncan's instillation, and he was proud to take up even her shame.
To pass from Mrs. Stewart to her was to escape from the clutches of a
vampire demon to the arms of a sweet mother-angel.
Deeply concerned for the newly-discovered misfortunes of the old man
to whom he was indebted for this world's life at least, he anxiously
sought to soothe him; but he had far more and far worse to torment him
than Malcolm even yet knew, and with burning cheeks and bloodshot
eyes he lay tossing from side to side, now uttering terrible curses
in Gaelic and now weeping bitterly. Malcolm took his loved pipes, and
with the gentlest notes he could draw from them tried to charm to rest
the ruffled waters of his spirit; but his efforts were all in vain,
and believing at length that he would be quieter without him, he went
to the House and to his own room.
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