"
"I daursay! But there's jist what I hae seen: them 'at 's broucht
up their ain weel eneuch, their son's bairn they'll jist lat gang.
Aither they're tired o' the thing, or they think they're safe.
They hae lippent til yoong Eppy a heap ower muckle. But I'm
naither a prophet nor the son o' a prophet, as the minister said
last Sunday--an' said well, honest man! for it's the plain trowth:
he's no ane o' the major nor yet the minor anes! But haud him oot
o' the pu'pit an' he dis no that ill. His dochter 's no an ill lass
aither, an' a great freen' o' my leddy's. But I'm clean ashamed o'
mysel' to gang on this gait. Hae ye dune wi' yer denner, Mr.
Grant?--Weel, I'll jist sen' to clear awa', an' lat ye til yer
lessons."
CHAPTER XVII.
LADY ARCTURA.
It was now almost three weeks since Donal had become an inmate of
the castle, and he had scarcely set his eyes on the lady of the
house. Once he had seen her back, and more than once had caught a
glimpse of her profile, but he had never really seen her face, and
they had never spoken to each other.
One afternoon he was sauntering along under the overhanging boughs
of an avenue of beeches, formerly the approach to a house in which
the family had once lived, but which had now another entrance. He
had in his hand a copy of the Apocrypha, which he had never seen
till he found this in the library.
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