“Od, man,” quo’ I, “that’s hardly possible, or else the taen o’ us has come o’ the wrang side o’ the blanket.”
“Now do you just pe holding your paice for a fery less time, for you must halways pe spaik spaiking, without knowing fat to say, unless I were putting it into your haid. I haif tould ould Simon Glas Macrhimmon, who knows all the pedigrees from the creation of the world, and he says that te Lheadles are all Macphersons; for, in the days of Rory More of Ballindalloch and Invereshie, tere was te Gordons, who would pe making grheat prhogress on te Sassenach, and tere went down wit Strabogie of te clan Ahnderson, and te clan Grhaham, and one Letulloch Macpherson of Strathneshalloch, vit as bould a clan after her as any and mhore; and they would pe toing creat might upon the Sassenach, and they would pe killing her in tousands, and ten she cot crheat lhands out of King Robert on te Bhorder, and Letulloch he had a whoule country to himself. But te people could not pe putting her nhame into worts, and instead of Letulloch tey called her Leadlea and te Sassenach she called her Little, so that all tese are of Macpherson, and you may pe te chief, and te forward son of te crheat Strathneshalloch himself. Now tat I would pe te tog, and te shame, and te tisgrhace, not to help my owhn poor clansman and prhother out of te evil, tat would pe worse eneuch; and te ting tat I would pe asking of you is tis, tat you will always look upon a Macpherson as a prhother until te end of te world, and pe standing py her as long as tere is peing one trop of plood in your whole poty.”
“Gude faith, serjeant,” says I, “I never was sae happy as to find, that the man to whom I hae been sae muckle obliged is sic a noble disinterested chiel; an’ there’s my hand, I’ll never gie up the cause of a Macpherson, if he’s in the right.”
“Hu! Cot t‑‑n your right! a clansman speak of the right! Any man will stand py me when I am in te right, put wit a phrother I must always pe in te right. No right or wrong tere, py Cot!—Poo, poo!”
“Od, man,” quo’ I, “that’s a stretch o’ billyhood that I was never up to afore but sin’ ye say’t, may I never see the Hermon Law again gif I winna stand by it. Come, then, we’ll hae a stoup o’ brandy, or a bottle o’ wine thegither, for a parting cup.”
“Hu!—no, no! None of your prandies or your wines for me!—I must pe on duty in less than an hour, and I would not pe tasting any of your tamn prandies or wines. No, no!—Cot pless you!—And should she never pe seeing your face again, you will pe——”
“He could say nae mair, for the muckle round tears were coming hopping down owre his weather-beaten cheek, but he gae my hand a hard squeeze an’ a shake, an’ brak out at the door; an’ that was my last sight of honest Daniel Roy Macpherson, a man that I hae met few like! I was tauld lang after, that he fell fighting like a lion against the Campbells, at the battle o’ Killiekranky, and that, to the last day o’ his life, he spake o’ his kinsman, ould MacLeadle.”
CHAPTER III.
It was on the inauspicious night of All-Hallow-eve, that Walter arrived again at his own house, after so long an absence; but some of the farmers of Manor-Water, his acquaintances, were so overjoyed at seeing him again, that they persuaded him to go in, taste of their cheer, and relate his adventures and his trial to them; and so long was he detained in this way, that it was dark before he left Dollar-Burn; yet so anxious was he to get home to his family, and all unconscious that it was Hallow-E’en, the great jubilee of the fairies and all the spirits of these mountain regions, he set out on his journey homeward, across the dreary moors of Meggat-dale. Walter found his way full well, for he knew every brae, height, and declivity by the way, and many delightful little dreams was he cherishing in his heart, how he would surprise Maron an’ the bairns by his arrival, and how extravagantly delighted his excellent and generous dog Reaver would be; for he often said, “he had mair sense about him than what was a beast’s good right;” but, above all, his mind dwelt most on his dear lassie Kate, as he called her. He had been informed by Drummelzier of all that she had done for him, who gave her a character so high before some friends of his who were present, that Walter never was so proud in his life, and he longed, with all a father’s fondness, to clasp “his bit dear kind-heartit lassie” again in his arms.