Donal did not reply, for although he was ready to grant her bonnie, he had never felt her winsome.
“Weel,” he went on, “her an’ me ’s been coortin’ this twa year; an’ guid freen’s we aye was till this last spring, whan a’ at ance she turnt highty-tighty like, nor, du what I micht, could I get her to say what it was ’at cheengt her: sae far as I kenned I had dune naething, nor wad she say I had gi’en her ony cause o’ complaint. But though she couldna say I had ever gi’en mair nor a ceevil word to ony lass but hersel’, she appeart unco wullin’ to fix me wi’ this ane an’ that ane or ony ane! I couldna think what had come ower her! But at last—an’ a sair last it is!—I hae come to the un’erstan’in’ o’ ’t: she wud fain hae a pretence for br’akin’ wi’ me! She wad hae ’t ’at I was duin’ as she was duin’ hersel’—haudin’ company wi’ anither!”
“Are you quite sure of what you say?” asked Donal.
“Ower sure, sir, though I’m no at leeberty to tell ye hoo I cam to be.—Dinna think, sir, ’at I’m ane to haud a lass til her word whan her hert disna back it; I wud hae said naething aboot it, but jist borne the hert-brak wi’ the becomin’ silence, for greitin’ nor ragin’ men’ no nets, nor tak the life o’ nae dogfish. But it’s God’s trowth, sir, I’m terrible feart for the lassie hersel’. She’s that ta’en up wi’ him, they tell me, ’at she can think o’ naething but him; an’ he’s a yoong lord, no a puir lad like me—an’ that’s what fears me!”
A great dread and a great compassion together laid hold of Donal, but he did not speak.
“Gien it cam to that,” resumed Stephen, “I doobt the fisher-lad wud win her better breid nor my lord; for gien a’ tales be true, he wud hae to wark for his ain breid; the castel ’s no his, nor canna be ’cep’ he merry the leddy o’ ’t. But it’s no merryin’ Eppy he’ll be efter, or ony the likes o’ ’im!”
“You don’t surely hint,” said Donal, “that there’s anything between her and lord Forgue? She must be an idle girl to take such a thing into her head!”
“I wuss weel she hae ta’en ’t intil her heid! she’d get it the easier oot o’ her hert! But ’deed, sir, I’m sair feart! I speakna o’ ’t for my ain sake; for gien there be trowth intil ’t, there can never be mair ’atween her and me! But, eh, sir, the peety o’ ’t wi’ sic a bonnie lass!—for he canna mean fair by her! Thae gran’ fowk does fearsome things! It’s sma’ won’er ’at whiles the puir fowk rises wi’ a roar, an’ tears doon a’, as they did i’ France!”
“All you say is quite true; but the charge is such a serious one!”
“It is that, sir! But though it be true, I’m no gaein’ to mak it afore the warl’.”