“That’s just what makes you the only fit person to help me that I know. If I were to employ people in the affair, they might be rough with the poor fellow.”
“Like eneuch, mem,” assented Malcolm, while the words put him afresh on his guard.
“But I might be driven to it,” she added.
Malcolm responded with an unuttered vow.
“It might become necessary to use force—whereas you could lead him with a word.”
“Na; I’m naither sic witch nor sic traitor.”
“Where would be the treachery when you knew it would be for his good?”
“That’s jist what I dinna ken, mem,” retorted Malcolm. “Luik ye here, mem,” he continued, rousing himself to venture an appeal to the mother’s heart; “—here’s a man it has pleased God to mak no freely like ither fowk. His min’, though cawpable a hantle mair nor a body wad think ’at didna ken him sae weel as I du, is certainly weyk—though maybe the weykness lies mair i’ the tongue than i’ the brain o’ ’im efter a’—an’ he’s been sair frichtit wi’ some guideship or ither; the upshot o ’t a’ bein’, ’at he’s unco timoursome, and ready to bursten himsel’ rinnin’ whan there’s nane pursuin’. But he’s the gentlest o’ craturs—a doon-richt gentleman, mem, gien ever there was ane—an’ that kin’ly wi’ a’ cratur, baith man an’ beast! A verra bairn cud guide him—ony gait but ane.”
“Anywhere but to his mother!” exclaimed Mrs Stewart, pressing her handkerchief to her eyes, and sobbing as she spoke. “—There is a child he is very fond of, I am told,” she added, recovering herself.
“He likes a’ bairns,” returned Malcolm, “an’ they’re maistly a’ freen’ly wi’ him. But there’s but jist ae thing ’at maks life endurable till ’im. He suffers a hantle (a great deal) wi’ that puir back o’ his, an’ wi’ his breath tu whan he’s frichtit, for his hert gangs loupin’ like a sawmon in a bag-net. An’ he suffers a hantle, forbye, in his puir feeble min’ tryin’ to unnerstan’ the guid things ’at fowk tells him, an’ jaloosin’ it’s his ain wyte ’at he disna unnerstan’ them better, an’ whiles he thinks himsel’ the child o’ sin and wrath, an’ that Sawtan has some special propriety in him, as the carritchis says—”