"
"By my second marriage."
"Nae merridge ava', my lord."
"True, if I confess to the first."
"A' the same whether or no, my lord."
"Then you see," the marquis went on, refusing offence, "what the
admission of your story would make of my daughter?"
"That's plain eneuch, my lord."
"Now, if I have read Malcolm right he has too much regard for
his--mistress--to put her in such a false position."
"That is, my lord, ye wad hae yer lawfu' son beir the lawless name."
"No, no: it need never come out what he is. I will provide for him--as
a gentleman, of course."
"It canna be, my lord. Ye can du naething for him, wi' that face o'
his, but oot comes the trouth as to the father o' 'im; an' it wadna be
lang afore the tale was ekit oot wi' the name o' his mither--Mistress
Catanach wad see to that, gien 'twas only to spite me--an' I wunna hae
my Grizel ca'd what she is not for ony lord's dauchter i' the three
kynriks."
"What _does_ it matter, now she's dead and gone?" said the marquis,
false to the dead in his love for the living.
"Deid an' gane, my lord? What ca' ye deid an' gane? Maybe the great
anes o' the yerth get sic a forlethie (_surfeit_) o' grand'ur 'at
they're for nae mair, an' wad perish like the brute beast. For
onything I ken, they may hae their wuss, but for mysel', I wad warstle
to haud my sowl waukin' (_awake_) i' the verra article o' deith, for
the bare chance o' seein' my bonny Grizel again.
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