"
"What a brace of blasted bunglers you are!" cried the marquis, and,
turning away his face, lay silent.
The two men looked at each other and said nothing.
Malcolm was by, and a pang shot to his heart at the verdict. The men
retired to consult. Malcolm approached the bed. "My lord!" he said
gently.
No reply came.
"Dinna lea 's oor lanes, my lord--no yet," Malcolm persisted. "What's
to come o' my leddy?"
The marquis gave a gasp. Still he made no reply.
"She has naebody, ye ken, my lord, 'at ye wad like to lippen her wi'."
"You must take care of her when I am gone, Malcolm," murmured the
marquis; and his voice was now gentle with sadness and broken with
misery.
"Me, my lord!" returned Malcolm. "Wha wad min' me? An' what cud I du
wi' her? I cudna even hand her ohn wat her feet. Her leddy's maid cud
du mair wi' her, though I wad lay doon my life for her, as I tauld ye,
my lord; an' she kens 't weel eneuch."
Silence followed. Both men were thinking.
"Gie me a richt, my lord, an' I'll du my best," said Malcolm, at
length breaking the silence.
"What do you mean?" growled the marquis, whose mood had altered.
"Gie me a legal richt, my lord, an' see gien I dinna."
"See what?"
"See gien I dinna luik weel efter my leddy."
"How am I to see? I shall be dead and damned."
"Please God, my lord, ye'll be alive an' weel--in a better place, if
no here to luik efter my leddy yersel'.
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