"Ye can du as yer lordship likes," answered Miss Horn, "but I wadna hae 't said o' me 'at I had ony dealin's wi' her. Wha kens but she micht say ye tried to bribe her? There's naething she wad bogle at gien she thoucht it worth her while. No 'at I 'm feart at her. Lat her lee! I'm no sae blate but—Only dinna lippen till a word she says, my lord."
The marquis hesitated. "I wonder whether the real source of my perplexity occurs to you, Miss Horn," he said at length. "You know I have a daughter?"
"Weel eneuch that, my lord."
"By my second marriage."
"Nae merridge ava', my lord."
"True, if I confess to the first."
"A' the same whether or no, my lord."
"Then you see," the marquis went on, refusing offence, "what the admission of your story would make of my daughter?"
"That's plain eneuch, my lord."
"Now, if I have read Malcolm right he has too much regard for his—mistress—to put her in such a false position."