"I should be sorry to hurt you, Malcalm," rejoined the marquis gently, almost tenderly. "I won't go there if I can help it--I shouldn't like to break any more hearts--but how the devil am I to keep out of it? Besides, there are people up there I don't want to meet: I have no fancy for being made ashamed of myself. The fact is, I'm not fit for such company, and I don't believe there is any such place. But if there be, I trust in God there isn't any other, or it will go badly with your poor master, Malcolm. It doesn't look _like_ true--now does it? Only such a multitude of things I thought I had done with for ever keep coming up and grinning at me. It nearly drives me mad, Malcolm; and I would fain die like a gentleman, with a cool bow and a sharp face-about." "Wadna ye hae a word wi' somebody 'at kens, my lord?" said Malcolm, scarcely able to reply. "No," answered the marquis fiercely. "That Cairns is a fool." "He's a' that, an' mair, my lord. I didna mean _him_." "They're all fools together." "Ow, na, my lord. There's a heap o' them no muckle better, it may be; but there's guid men an' true amang them, or the Kirk wad hae been wi' Sodom and Gomorrah by this time. But it's no a minister I wad hae yer lordship confar wi'." "Who, then? Mrs. Courthope, eh?" "Ow na, my lord--no Mistress Courthoup. She's a guid body, but she wadna believe her ain een gien onybody ca'd a minister said contrar' to them." "Who the devil do you mean, then?" "Nae deevil, but an honest man 'at's been his warst enemy sae lang 's I hae kent him--Maister Graham, the schuil-maister." "Pooh!" said the marquis with a puff. "I'm too old to go to school." "I dinna ken the man 'at isna a bairn till _him_, my lord." "In Greek and Latin?" "I' richteousness an' trouth, my lord--in what's been an' what is to be." "What! has he the second sight, like the piper?" "He _has_ the second sicht, my lord, but ane 'at gangs a sicht farther nor my auld daddy's." "He could tell me, then, what's going to become of me?" "As weel 's ony man, my lord." "That's not saying much, I fear." "Maybe mair nor ye think, my lord." "Well, take him my compliments and tell him I should like to see him," said the marquis after a minute's silence. "He'll come direckly, my lord." "Of course he will," said the marquis. "Jist as readily, my lord, as he wad gang to ony tramp 'at sent for 'im at sic a time," returned Malcolm, who did not relish either the remark or its tone. "What do you mean by that? _You_ don't think it such a serious affair, do you?" "My lord, ye haena a chance." The marquis was dumb. He had actually begun once more to buoy himself up with earthly hopes.