“They’ll condemn ye!”
“I do not doubt it.”
“An’ what neist?”
“I shall have to leave Scotland, I suppose.”
“Sir, it’s awfu’!”
The horror-stricken expression of Malcolm’s face drew a second merry laugh from Mr Graham.
“They can’t burn me,” he said: “you needn’t look like that.”
“But there’s something terrible wrang, sir, whan sic men hae pooer ower sic a man.”
“They have no power but what’s given them. I shall accept their decision as the decree of heaven.”
“It’s weel to be you, sir—’at can tak a thing sae quaiet.”