“She’ll haf _no_ womans to look after her,” said Duncan fiercely. “Oh, very well!--of course not, if you don’t wish it,” returned the marquis, laughing. But Duncan did not even smile in return. He sat thoughtful and silent for a moment, then said: “And what’ll pecome of her lamps and her shop?” “You shall have all the lamps and candlesticks in the house to attend to and take charge of,” said the marquis, who had heard of the old man’s whim from Lady Florimel; “and for the shop, you won’t want that when you’re piper to the Marquis of Lossie.” He did not venture to allude to wages more definitely. “Well, she’ll pe talking to her poy apout it,” said Duncan, and the marquis saw that he had better press the matter no further for the time. To Malcolm the proposal was full of attraction. True, Lord Lossie had once and again spoken so as to offend him, but the confidence he had shown in him had gone far to atone for that. And to be near Lady Florimel!--to have to wait on her in the yacht and sometimes in the house!--to be allowed books from the library perhaps!-- to have a nice room, and those lovely grounds all about him!--It _was_ tempting! The old man also, the more he reflected, liked the idea the more. The only thing he murmured at was being parted from his grandson at night. In vain Malcolm reminded him that during the fishing-season he had to spend most nights alone; Duncan answered that he had but to go to the door, and look out to sea, and there was nothing between him and his boy; but now he could not tell how many stone walls might be standing up to divide them. He was quite willing to make the trial, however, and see if he could bear it. So Malcolm went to speak to the marquis. He did not _altogether_ trust the marquis, but he had always taken a delight in doing anything for anybody--a delight rooted in a natural tendency to ministration, unusually strong, and specially developed by the instructions of Alexander Graham conjoined with the necessities of his blind grandfather; while there was an alluring something, it must be confessed, in the marquis’s high position --which let no one set down to Malcolm’s discredit: whether the subordination of class shall go to the development of reverence or of servility, depends mainly on the individual nature subordinated. Calvinism itself has produced as many loving children as abject slaves, with a good many between partaking of the character of both kinds. Still, as he pondered over the matter on his way, he shrunk a good deal from placing himself at the beck and call of another; it threatened to interfere with that sense of personal freedom which is yet dearer perhaps to the poor than to the rich. But he argued with himself that he had found no infringement of it under Blue Peter; and that, if the marquis were really as friendly as he professed to be, it was not likely to turn out otherwise with him.