“But,” resumed Mr. Charles, “you know that there are sometimes connections which a young man forms, unpleasant things for the family. Young men will be young men, you know--and what’s perhaps only the fancy of a day may leave results behind, and may bring great trouble into a family. If you had it in your power now to prevent a great deal of disturbance and heart-burning, and perhaps a law-suit, and the succession of an old estate from being disputed--I cannot tell--perhaps you know nothing at all about it--” “Oh, my man kens a great deal more than he says. Now what can it be about, John?” said the wife. In the meanwhile John was undergoing internal struggles of a very severe description. He was a large brawny man, more slow in speech and heavy in aspect than men in his position, rubbed up into sharpness, at least, by contact with imperious sportsmen, generally are. He twisted his limbs so that he seemed all shoulder, he screwed up his features till he seemed all mouth. “I’ll no do it,” he burst forth at length, “I’ll no do it! I’ll no wrong a poor lass, nor be mansworn!” “What does the haverel mean?” cried Jean. “John!” shaking him violently, “you’re falling into ane of your ill turns. Lord save the man! if ye dare to lay a finger on me!” “I’ll no do it!” cried John, stretching forth his arm with a clenched fist at the end of it, which might well have made the weaker creatures beside him tremble. Even Mr. Charles felt a nervous tremor go over him. Finesse and intellect grew pale in presence of brute force thus displayed. “Gently, gently, my good man,” he said, “you’ll be forced to nothing. To tell what you know, that is all anybody wants of you. The law you know, if the worst comes to the worst, will make you do that; on the other hand, if you will give your information to the family and prevent going to law, it will be to your advantage; you see the difference; the court will give you nothing; that’s all I have to say.” “Oh, dear me, dear me!” said the wife, wringing her hands. “Oh, John, is there nae way you can please the gentleman? You’ll no be mansworn, my bonnie man! you’ll no wrong the lass. Poor silly thing she’s nigh her last by this time; and if the gentleman is that anxious and was to make it worth our while? Often and often we’ve spoken of Canada, John. The lads would soon make their fortunes there with their talents. It would be to swear naething; it would be but to hold your tongue and that’s so easy to some folk! the gentleman would be content if ye were but to hold your tongue. And where’s the harm? Isabell, she canna live if she was to be made a queen--and it’s no for your auld wife that you would throw away all the bairns’ prospects? Oh, John, my bonnie man!”