“My lord tells me,” she said, folding a pair of lovely hands on her lap, “that you see my poor unhappy boy sometimes.” “No sae dooms (_absolutely_) unhappy, mem!” said Malcolm; but she went on without heeding the remark. “And that you rescued him not long ago from the hands of ruffians.” Malcolm made no reply. “Everybody knows,” she continued, after a slight pause, “what an unhappy mother I am. It is many years since I lost the loveliest infant ever seen, while my poor Stephen was left to be the mockery of every urchin in the street!” She sighed deeply, and one of the fair hands took a hand-kerchief from a work-table near. “No in Portlossie, mem,” said Malcolm. “There’s verra feow o’ them so hard-hertit or so ill-mainnert. They’re used to seein’ him at the schuil, whaur he shaws himsel’ whiles; an’ he’s a great favourite wi’ them, for he’s ane o’ the best craturs livin’.” “A poor, witless, unmanageable being! He’s a dreadful grief to me,” said the widowed mother, with a deep sigh. “A bairn could manage him,” said Malcolm in strong contradiction. “Oh, if I could but convince him of my love! but he won’t give me a chance. He has an unaccountable dread of me, which makes him as well as me wretched. It is a delusion which no argument can overcome, and seems indeed an essential part of his sad affliction. The more care and kindness he needs, the less will he accept at my hands. I long to devote my life to him, and he will not allow me. I should be but too happy to nurse him day and night. Ah, Mr MacPhail, you little know a mother’s heart! Even if my beautiful boy had not been taken from me, Stephen would still have been my idol, idiot as he is--and will be as long as he lives. And--” “He’s nae idiot, mem,” interposed Malcolm. “And just imagine,” she went on, “what a misery it must be to a widowed mother, poor companion as he would be at the best, to think of her boy roaming the country like a beggar! sleeping she doesn’t know where! eating wretched food! and--” “Guid parritch an’ milk, an’ brose an’ butter,” said Malcolm parenthetically; “--whiles herrin’ an’ yallow haddies.” “It’s enough to break a mother’s heart! If I could but persuade him to come home for a week so as to have a chance with him! But it’s no use trying: ill-disposed people have made mischief between us, telling wicked lies, and terrifying the poor fellow almost to death. It is quite impossible except I get some one to help me-- and there are so few who have any influence with him!” Malcolm thought she must surely have had chances enough before he ran away from her; but he could not help feeling softened towards her. “Supposin’ I was to get ye speech o’ ’im, mem?” he said. “That would not be of the slightest use. He is so prejudiced against me, he would only shriek, and go into one of those horrible fits.” “I dinna see what’s to be dune than,” said Malcolm. “I must have him brought here--there is no other way.”