"
"They might do a good deal to render those rights of little use," said
the marquis.
"That wad come till a trial o' brains, my lord," returned Malcolm:
"an' ye dinna think I wadna hae the wit to speir advice; an', what's
mair, to ken whan it was guid, an' tak it. There's lawyers, my lord."
"And their expenses?"
"Ye cud lea' sae muckle to be waured (_spent_) upo' the cairryin' oot
o' yer lordship's wull."
"Who would see that you applied it properly?"
"My ain conscience, my lord, or Mr. Graham gien ye likit."
"And how would you live yourself?"
"Ow! lea' ye that to me, my lord. Only dinna imagine I wad be behauden
to yer lordship. I houp I hae mair pride nor that. Ilka poun'-not',
shillin' an' bawbee sud be laid oot for _her_, an' what was left
hainet (_saved_) for her."
"By Jove! it's a daring proposal!" said the marquis; and, which seemed
strange to Malcolm, not a single thread of ridicule ran through the
tone in which he made the remark.
The next day came, but brought neither strength of body nor of mind
with it. Again his professional attendants besought him, and he heard
them more quietly, but rejected their proposition as positively as
before. In a day or two he ceased to oppose it, but would not hear of
preparation. Hour glided into hour, and days had gathered to a week,
when they assailed him with a solemn and last appeal.
"Nonsense!" answered the marquis. "My leg is getting better.
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