‘And what became of your daughter?’
No answer was immediately given—Walter hung his head, and seemed troubled; he sighed deeply, and again turned his eye inquiringly to Mr. Keelevin. Almost every one present sympathized with his emotion, and ascribed it to parental sorrow.
‘I say,’ resumed the advocate, ‘what became of your daughter?’
‘I canna answer that question.’
The simple accent in which this was uttered interested all in his favour still more and more.
‘Is she dead?’ said the pertinacious Mr. Threeper.
‘Folk said sae; and what every body says maun be true.’
‘Then you don’t, of your own knowledge, know the fact?’
‘Before I can answer that, I would like to ken what a fact is?’
The counsel shifted his ground, without noticing the question; and said,—