“You mean to say your judgment is a safer guide than mine?”
“No, my lord; I micht weel follow yer lordship’s jeedgment, but gien there be a conscience i’ the affair, it’s my ain conscience I’m bun’ to follow, an’ no yer lordship’s, or ony ither man’s. Suppose the thing ’at seemed richt to yer lordship, seemed wrang to me, what wad ye hae me du than?”
“Do as I told you, and lay the blame on me.”
“Na, my lord, that winna haud: I bude to du what I thoucht richt, an’ lay the blame upo’ naebody, whatever cam o’ ’t.”
“You young hypocrite! Why didn’t you tell me you meant to set up for a saint before I took you into my service?”
“’Cause I had nae sic intention, my lord. Surely a body micht ken himsel’ nae sant, an’ yet like to haud his han’s clean!”
“What did Mrs Stewart tell you she wanted of you?” asked the marquis almost fiercely, after a moment’s silence.
“She wantit me to get the puir laird to gang back till her; but I sair misdoobt, for a’ her fine words, it’s a closed door, gien it bena a lid, she wad hae upon him; an’ I wad suner be hangt nor hae a thoom i’ that haggis.”
“Why should you doubt what a lady tells you?”
“I wadna be ower ready, but I hae hard things, ye see, an’ bude to be upo’ my gaird.”