The door of the adjoining chamber stood open, and the long-forbidden
room lay exposed to any eye. Little did Malcolm think as he gazed
around it that it was the room in which he had first breathed the air
of the world; in which his mother had wept over her own false position
and his reported death; and from which he had been carried, by
Duncan's wicked wife, down the ruinous stair and away to the lip of
the sea, to find a home in the arms of the man whom he had just
left on his lonely couch torn between the conflicting emotions of a
gracious love for him and the frightful hate of her.
CHAPTER LXVII.
FEET OF WOOL.
The next day, Miss Horn, punctual as Fate, presented herself at Lossie
House, and was shown at once into the marquis's study, as it was
called. When his lordship entered she took the lead the moment the
door was shut. "By this time, my lord, ye'll doobtless hae made up yer
min' to du what's richt?" she said.
"That's what I have always wanted to do," returned the marquis.
"Hm!" remarked Miss Horn as plainly as inarticulately.
"In this affair," he supplemented; adding, "It's not always so easy to
tell what _is_ right."
"It's no aye easy to luik for 't wi' baith yer een," said Miss Horn.
"This woman Catanach--we must get her to give credible testimony.
Whatever the fact may be, we must have strong evidence. And there
comes the difficulty, that she has already made an altogether
different statement.
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