"
"Take the chariot and bring him here directly. Tell them to put four
horses to: Stokes can ride one."
"I'll ride the ither, my lord."
"You'll do nothing of the kind: you're not used to the pole."
"I can tak the leader, my lord."
"I tell you you're to do nothing of the kind," cried the marquis
angrily. "You're to ride inside, and bring Mr.--what's his name?--back
with you."
"Soutar, my lord, gien ye please."
"Be off, then. Don't wait to feed. The brutes have been eating all
day, and they can eat all night. You must have him here in an hour."
In an hour and a quarter Miss Horn's friend stood by the marquis's
bedside, Malcolm was dismissed, but was presently summoned again to
receive more orders.
Fresh horses were put to the chariot, and he had to set out once
more--this time to fetch a justice of the peace, a neighbor laird. The
distance was greater than to Duff Harbor; the roads were worse; the
north wind, rising as they went, blew against them as they returned,
increasing to a violent gale; and it was late before they reached
Lossie House.
When Malcolm entered he found the marquis alone.
"Is Morrison here at last?" he cried, in a feeble, irritated voice.
"Yes, my lord."
"What the devil kept you so long? The bay mare would have carried me
there and back in an hour and a half."
"The roads war verra heavy, my lord. An' jist hear till the win'."
The marquis listened a moment, and a frightened expression grew over
his thin, pale, anxious face.
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