In the middle of the night, as Malcolm sat by his bed, thinking him asleep, the marquis spoke suddenly.
“You must go to Aberdeen to-morrow, Malcolm,” he said.
“Verra weel, my lord.”
“And bring Mr Glennie, the lawyer, back with you.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Go to bed then.”
“I wad raither bide, my lord. I cudna sleep a wink for wantin’ to be back aside ye.”
The marquis yielded, and Malcolm sat by him all the night through. He tossed about, would doze off and murmur strangely, then wake up and ask for brandy and water, yet be content with the lemonade Malcolm gave him.
Next day he quarrelled with every word Mrs Courthope uttered, kept forgetting he had sent Malcolm away, and was continually wanting him. His fits of pain were more severe, alternated with drowsiness, which deepened at times to stupor.
It was late before Malcolm returned. He went instantly to his bedside.