Mrs. Gavin's amazement was increased.
"Ay, and," continued he, "I hae cheated thoosands besides you and yer husband—a greater sinner than I hae been, ye wadna find between the Mull o' Galloway and John o' Groats. If I had got my due, I wad hae been hanged, or at least sent to Botany Bay."
"Are you mad, or do you glory in your wickedness?" said Mrs. Gavin.
"Nane o' the twa," said Duncan. "I am as wise as ye are; and, in place o' gloryin in my wickedness, I am as repentant as a deein martyr."
"Repentance is nothing without works," replied she.
"Warks!" ejaculated Duncan. "Bring, bring me the rotten linen."
The astonished woman went and brought the article.
"There's the siller," said Duncan, "I got fra yer husband for that wab. I'll sell it noo for what it is—a piece o' vile deception. Need ye a commodity o' that description?"
"I think I could find use for it," said Mrs. Gavin. "It has one good end, but you will come to an ill one when you"——"roll it down," she would have said, but Duncan caught her:—
"When ye cheat yer neighbour," added he. "Ye're quite right, madam; a rotten-hearted wab is just like a rotten-hearted man—they baith come to an ill end. Oh, hoo gratefu I am to thae glass-blawers, wha hae blawn awa my crimes, and converted and reformed me!"