"Gentlemen!"
"Well, yes, gentlemen! And there will be none there more worthy the name than our Donald."
"The rest of them are much to be scorned at, then."
"James, James, that speech was little like you. Sit down and come to yourself; I am sure you are not so mean as to grudge Donald the rights of his good birth."
"Donald McFarlane shall have all the rights he has worked for; and when he gets his just payment he will be in Glasgow jail."
"James, you are ill. You have not been here for a week, and you look so unlike yourself. I know you must be ill. Will you let me send for our doctor?" And she approached him kindly, and looked with anxious scrutiny into his face.
He put her gently away, and said in a thick, rapid voice,
"Christine, I came to-night to tell you that Donald McFarlane is unworthy to come into your presence—he has forged your father's name."
"James, you are mad, or ill, what you say is just impossible!"
"I am neither mad nor ill. I will prove it, if you wish."