"And ye ken weel that the Dooke of Harewood hae get me lappet up here in prison sae I canna get out to prevent him ha'eing his wicked will, in marrying the heiress o' Lone?"
"I know that, too, ma'am—that is, if I'm not dreaming, as I said before," answered the bewildered old woman.
"Aweel, noo, I canna get out to forestal this graund wickedness. The shamefu' villain took gude care to prevent that, but I can circumvent him, for a' that, gin ye will help me, Mrs. Brown. Will ye?"
"You may be sure o' that, my poor young lady; for if things be as they seem, you have suffered much wrong," earnestly answered the woman.
"Aweel, then, tak' my marritge lines, my letter, and this likeness o' my laird—and may the black de'il burn him in—"
"Oh, my dear child, don't say that. It is dreadful. Tell me what I am to do with these papers and this picture."
"First of a', ye'll be very carefu' o' 'em, and be sure to bring them back safe to me."
"Yes, surely, my dear; but what am I to do with them?"
"Ye'll get a cab, and tak' the papers and the picture to the bride's house, and ask to see the bride alone, on a matter o' life and death. And ye maun tak' nae denial. Ye maun see her, and tell her anent mysel' here, betrayed into prison sae I canna come to warn her. And show her my marritge lines, and my letter, and my laird's pictur'—the foul fien' fly awa' wi' him!—and tell her, gin she dinna believe them, to gae to the auld kirk o' St. Margaret's, Wes'minster, and look at the register, and see the minister, Mr. Smith, and the clerk, Mr. Jones, and the auld bodie, Mrs. Gray, and she'll find out anent it! Will ye do this for me?"
"Yes, I will, my dear child."