“I come to beg you, sir, not to go further with this business. Surely the punishment is already enough!” said Malcolm respectfully.
“Who sends me the message?” asked the factor, his teeth clenched, and his eyes flaming.
“One,” answered Malcolm, “who has some influence for justice, and will use it, upon whichever side the justice may lie.”
“Go to hell,” cried the Factor, losing utterly his slender self-command, and raising his whip.
Malcolm took no heed of the gesture, for he was at the moment beyond his reach.
“Mr Crathie,” he said calmly, “you are banishing the best man in the place.”
“No doubt! no doubt! seeing he’s a crony of yours,” laughed the factor in mighty scorn. “A canting, prayer-meeting rascal!” he added.
“Is that ony waur nor a drucken elyer o’ the kirk?” cried Dubs from the other side of the ditch, raising a roar of laughter.
The very purple forsook the factor’s face, and left it a corpse-like grey in the fire of his fury.
“Come, come, my men! that’s going too far,” said Malcolm.