Malcolm was overjoyed to hear him speak with something like his old manner. He felt he could stand any amount of chaff from him now, and so the proposition he had made in seriousness he went on to defend in the hope of giving amusement, yet with a secret wild delight in the dream of such full devotion to the service of Lady Florimel.
"It wad soon' queer eneuch, my lord, nae doobt, but fowk maunna min' the soon' o' a thing gien 't be a' straucht an' fair, an' strong eneuch to stan'. They cudna lauch me oot o' my richts, be they 'at they likit—Lady Bellair or ony o' them—na, nor jaw me oot o' them aither."
"They might do a good deal to render those rights of little use," said the marquis.
"That wad come till a trial o' brains, my lord," returned Malcolm: "an' ye dinna think I wadna hae the wit to speir advice; an', what's mair, to ken whan it was guid, an' tak it. There's lawyers, my lord."
"And their expenses?"
"Ye cud lea' sae muckle to be waured (spent) upo' the cairryin' oot o' yer lordship's wull."
"Who would see that you applied it properly?"
"My ain conscience, my lord, or Mr. Graham gien ye likit."
"And how would you live yourself?"
"Ow! lea' ye that to me, my lord. Only dinna imagine I wad be behauden to yer lordship. I houp I hae mair pride nor that. Ilka poun'-not', shillin' an' bawbee sud be laid oot for her, an' what was left hainet (saved) for her."