MacLure, on his coming, would say nothing, either weal or woe, till he had examined Saunders. Suddenly his face turned into iron before their eyes, and he looked like one encountering a merciless foe. For there was a feud between MacLure and a certain mighty power which had lasted for forty years in Drumtochty. “The London doctor said that Saunders wud sough awa’ afore mornin’, did he? Weel, he’s an’ authority on fevers an’ sic like diseases, an’ ought tae ken. “It’s may be presumptuous o’ me tae differ frae him, and it wudna be verra respectfu’ o’ Saunders tae live aifter this opeenion. But Saunders wes aye thraun an’ ill tae drive, an’ he’s as like as no tae gang his ain gait. “A’m no meanin’ tae reflect on sae clever a man, but he didna ken the seetuation. He can read fevers like a buik, but he never cam’ across sic a thing as the Drumtochty constitution a’ his days. “Ye see, when onybody gets as low as puir Saunders here, it’s a juist a hand-to-hand wrastle atween the fever and his constitution, an’ of coorse, if he hed been a shilpit, stuntit, feckless effeegy o’ a cratur, fed on tea an’ made dishes and pushioned wi’ bad air, Saunders wud hae nae chance; he wes boond tae gae oot like the snuff o’ a candle. “But Saunders has been fillin’ his lungs for five and thirty year wi’ strong Drumtochty air, an’ eatin’ naethin’ but kirny aitmeal, and drinkin’ naethin’ but fresh milk frae the coo, an’ followin’ the ploo through the new-turned, sweet-smellin’ earth, an’ swingin’ the scythe in haytime and harvest, till the legs an’ airms o’ him were iron, an’ his chest wes like the cuttin’ o’ an oak tree. “He’s a waesome sicht the nicht, but Saunders wes a buirdly man aince, and wull never lat his life be taken lichtly frae him. Na, na; he hesna sinned against Nature, and Nature ’ill stand by him noo in his oor o’ distress. “A’ daurna say yea, Bell, muckle as a’ wud like, for this is an evil disease, cunnin’ an’ treacherous as the deevil himsel’, but a’ winna say nay, sae keep yir hert frae despair. “It wull be a sair fecht, but it ’ill be settled one wy or anither by six o’clock the morn’s morn. Nae man can prophecee hoo it ’ill end, but ae thing is certain, a’ll no see Deith tak a Drumtochty man afore his time if a’ can help it. “Noo, Bell, ma wumman, yir near deid wi’ tire, an’ nae wonder. Ye’ve dune a’ ye cud for yir man an’ ye ’ill lippen (trust) him the nicht tae Drumsheugh an’ me; we ’ill no fail him or you. “Lie doon an’ rest, an’ if it be the wull o’ the Almichty a’ll wauken ye in the mornin’ tae see a livin’, conscious man, an’ if it be itherwise a’ll come for ye the suner, Bell,” and the big red hand went out to the anxious wife. “A’ gie ye ma word.” Bell leant over the bed, and at the sight of Saunders’ face a superstitious dread seized her.