We now change the scene.
“It’s a braw day this, my Leddy Maitland,” said Geordie, bowing to the very ground, and holding in his hand a clean sheet of paper, which he had folded up like a letter, as a passport to her ladyship’s presence.
Lady Maitland, who was sitting at her work-table, stared at the person thus saluting her, and seeing it was Geordie Willison, who had offended her at the time of his carrying down Sir Marmaduke’s luggage, by asking, jocularly, if “ony o’ the bairns were gaun wi’ their father,” she asked him sternly what he wanted, and, thinking he had the letter in his hand to deliver to her, snatched it in a petted manner and opened it. On finding it a clean sheet of paper, with her address on the back of it, she got into a great rage, and ran to the bell to call up a lackey to kick Geordie down stairs.
“Canny, my braw leddy—canny,” said Geordie, seizing her hand; “ye are hasty—maybe no quite recovered yet—the wet dews o’ Warriston are no for the tender health o’ the bonny Leddy Maitland; for even Geordie Willison, wha can ban a’ bield i’ the cauldest nicht o’ winter, felt them chill and gruesome as he passed through them yestreen.”
On hearing this speech, Lady Maitland changed, in an instant, from a state of violent passion to the rigidity and appearance of a marble statue.
Eyeing her with one of his peculiar looks, as much as to say, “I know all,” Geordie proceeded.
“I dinna want to put your leddyship to ony trouble by this veesit; but, being in want o’ some siller in thir hard times, I thocht I would tak the liberty o’ ca’in upon yer leddyship, as weel for the sake o’ being better acquainted wi’ a leddy o’ yer station and presence, as for the sake o’ gettin’ the little I require on my first introduction to high life.”
“How much money dost thou require?” asked the lady, with a tremulous voice.
“Twunty pund, my leddy, twenty pund at the present time,” answered Geordie, with the same simple look; “ye ken the folk haud me for a natural, and ower fu’ a cup is no easy carried, even by the wise. Sae, I wadna like to trust mysel’ wi’ mair than twenty pund at a time.”
Without saying a word, Lady Maitland went, with trembling steps, and a hurried and confused manner, to her bureau: she took out her keys—tried one, then another, and, with some difficulty, at last got it opened. She counted out twenty pounds, and handed it over to Geordie, who counted it again with all the precision of a modern banker.