“Bring the wine and cake,” she said, then turned to Malcolm. “Your master speaks very kindly of you. He seems to trust you thoroughly.”
“I’m verra glaid to hear ’t, mem; but he has never had muckle cause to trust or distrust me yet.”
“He seems even to think that I might place equal confidence in you.”
“I dinna ken. I wadna hae ye lippen to me owre muckle,” said Malcolm.
“You do not mean to contradict the good character your master gives you?” said the lady, with a smile and a look right into his eyes.
“I wadna hae ye lippen till me afore ye had my word,” said Malcolm.
“I may use my own judgment about that,” she replied, with another winning smile. “But oblige me by taking a glass of wine.”
She rose and approached the decanters.
“’Deed no, mem, I’m no used till ’t, an’ it micht jummle my jeedgement,” said Malcolm, who had placed himself on the defensive from the first, jealous of his own conduct as being the friend of the laird.
At his second refusal the cloud again crossed the lady’s brow, but her smile did not vanish. Pressing her hospitality no more, she resumed her seat.