The marquis stared aghast: they had sent for her without his orders.
“What shall I do?” he murmured. “If once I look in her eyes, I shall be damned.—Malcolm!”
“Yes, my lord!”
“Is there a lawyer in Portlossie?”
“Yes, my lord; there’s auld Maister Carmichael.”
“He won’t do! He was my brother’s rascal. Is there no one besides?”
“No in Portlossie, my lord. There can be nane nearer than Duff Harbour, I doobt.”
“Take the chariot and bring him here directly. Tell them to put four horses to. Stokes can ride one.”
“I’ll ride the ither, my lord.”
“You’ll do nothing of the kind: you’re not used to the pole.”