"Miss Cam'ell!" cried Miss Horn. "I'll thank yer lordship to ca' her by her ain, an' that's Lady Lossie."
What of the something ruinous heart of the marquis was habitable was occupied by his daughter, and had no accommodation at present either for his dead wife or his living son. Once more he sat thinking in silence for a while. "I'll make Malcolm a post-captain in the navy and give you a thousand pounds," he said at length, hardly knowing that he spoke.
Miss Horn rose to her full height and stood like an angel of rebuke before him. Not a word did she speak, only looked at him for a moment and turned to leave the room. The marquis saw his danger, and striding to the door stood with his back against it.
"Think ye to scare me, my lord?" she asked with a scornful laugh. "Gang an' scare the stane lion-beast at yer ha'-door. Haud oot o' the gait an' lat me gang."
"Not until I know what you are going to do," said the marquis very seriously.
"I hae naething mair to transac' wi' yer lordship. You an' me 's strangers, my lord."
"Tut! tut! I was but trying you."
"An' gien I had ta'en the disgrace ye offert me, ye wad hae drawn back?"
"No, certainly."
"Ye wasna tryin' me, then: ye was duin' yer best to corrup' me."