"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. It's a mercy I hae nae feelin's," she added, arresting her handkerchief on its way to her eyes, and refusing to acknowledge the single tear that ran down her cheek. Plainly she was not like any of the women whose characters the marquis had accepted as typical of womankind. "Then you won't leave the matter to her husband and son?" he said reproachfully. "I tellt ye, my lord, I wad du naething but what I saw to be richt. Lat this affair oot o' my han's I daurna. That laad ye micht work to onything 'at made agane himsel'. He's jist like his puir mither there." "If Miss Campbell _was_ his mother," said the marquis. "Miss Cam'ell!" cried Miss Horn. "I'll thank yer lordship to ca' her by her ain, an' that's Lady Lossie." What of the something ruinous heart of the marquis was habitable was occupied by his daughter, and had no accommodation at present either for his dead wife or his living son. Once more he sat thinking in silence for a while. "I'll make Malcolm a post-captain in the navy and give you a thousand pounds," he said at length, hardly knowing that he spoke. Miss Horn rose to her full height and stood like an angel of rebuke before him. Not a word did she speak, only looked at him for a moment and turned to leave the room. The marquis saw his danger, and striding to the door stood with his back against it. "Think ye to scare _me_, my lord?" she asked with a scornful laugh. "Gang an' scare the stane lion-beast at yer ha'-door. Haud oot o' the gait an' lat me gang." "Not until I know what you are going to do," said the marquis very seriously. "I hae naething mair to transac' wi' yer lordship. You an' me 's strangers, my lord." "Tut! tut! I was but trying you."