"And sha'n't you mind being an old man, then, Malcolm?"
"Not in the least, my lady. I shall mind nothing so long as I can trust in the Maker of me. If my faith in Him should give way, why then there would be nothing worth minding either. I don't know but I should kill myself."
"Malcolm!"
"Which is worse, my lady—to distrust God, or to think life worth having without Him?"
"But one may hope in the midst of doubt—at least that is what Mr. Graham—and you—have taught me to do."
"Yes, surely, my lady. I won't let any one beat me at that, if I can help it. And I think that so long as I kept my reason I should be able to cry out, as that grandest and most human of all the prophets did, 'Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.' But would you not like to sleep, my lady?"
"No, Malcolm. I would much rather hear you talk. Could you not tell me a story now? Lady Lossie mentioned one you once told her about an old castle somewhere not far from here."
"Eh, my leddy," broke in Annie Mair, who had waked up while they were speaking. "I wuss ye wud gar him tell ye that story, for my man he's h'ard 'im tell 't, an' he says it's unco gruesome: I wad fain hear 't.—Wauk up, Lizzy," she went on, in her eagerness waiting for no answer: "Ma'colm's gauin' to tell 's the tale o' the auld castel o' Colonsay.—It's oot by yon'er, my leddy—no that far frae the Deid Heid.—Wauk up, Lizzy."
"I'm no sleepin', Annie," said Lizzy, "though, like Ma'colm's auld man," she added with a sigh, "I wad whiles fain be."
Now, there were reasons why Malcolm should not be unwilling to tell the strange wild story requested of him, and he commenced it at once, but modified the Scotch of it considerably for the sake of the unaccustomed ears. When it was ended Clementina said nothing, Annie Mair said "Hech, sirs!" and Lizzy, with a great sigh, remarked, "The deil maun be in a' thing whaur God hasna a han', I'm thinkin'."