“Even I mysell,” said Caleb, with the same determination.
“You, Balderstone!” replied the Master; “you are forgetting yourself, I think.”
“But I think no,” said Balderstone; “for I can just tell ye a’ about the castle on this knowe-head as weel as if ye were at it. Only dinna pit yoursell into a kippage, and expose yoursell before the weans, or before the Marquis, when ye gang down-bye.”
“Speak out, you old fool,” replied his master, “and let me know the best and the worst at once.”
“Ou, the best and the warst is, just that the tower is standing hail and feir, as safe and as empty as when ye left it.”
“Indeed! and the fire?” said Ravenswood.
“Not a gleed of fire, then, except the bit kindling peat, and maybe a spunk in Mysie’s cutty-pipe,” replied Caleb.
“But the flame?” demanded Ravenswood—“the broad blaze which might have been seen ten miles off—what occasioned that?”
“Hout awa’! it’s an auld saying and a true—
Little’s the light
Will be seen far in a mirk night.