our
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."

"I can tak the leader, my lord."

"I tell you you're to do nothing of the kind," cried the marquis
angrily. "You're to ride inside, and bring Mr.--what's his name?--back
with you."

"Soutar, my lord, gien ye please."

"Be off, then. Don't wait to feed. The brutes have been eating all
day, and they can eat all night. You must have him here in an hour."

In an hour and a quarter Miss Horn's friend stood by the marquis's
bedside, Malcolm was dismissed, but was presently summoned again to
receive more orders.

Fresh horses were put to the chariot, and he had to set out once
more--this time to fetch a justice of the peace, a neighbor laird. The
distance was greater than to Duff Harbor; the roads were worse; the
north wind, rising as they went, blew against them as they returned,
increasing to a violent gale; and it was late before they reached
Lossie House.

When Malcolm entered he found the marquis alone.

"Is Morrison here at last?" he cried, in a feeble, irritated voice.

"Yes, my lord."

"What the devil kept you so long? The bay mare would have carried me
there and back in an hour and a half."

"The roads war verra heavy, my lord. An' jist hear till the win'."

The marquis listened a moment, and a frightened expression grew over
his thin, pale, anxious face. "You don't know what depends on it," he
said, "or you would have driven better. Where is Mr. Soutar?"

"I dinna ken, my lord. I'm only jist come, an' I've seen naebody."

"Go and tell Mrs. Courthope I want Soutar. You'll find her crying
somewhere--the old chicken!--because I swore at her. What harm could
that do the old goose?"

"It'll be mair for love o' yer lordship than fricht at the sweirin',
my lord."

"You think so? Why should _she_ care? Go and tell her I'm sorry.
But really she ought to be used to me by this time. Tell her to send
Soutar directly."

Mr. Soutar was not to be found, the fact being that he had gone to see
Miss Horn. The marquis flew into an awful rage, and began to curse and
swear frightfully.

"My lord! my lord!" said Malcolm, "for God's sake, dinna gang on that
gait. He canna like to hear that kin' o' speech; an' frae ane o' his
ain' tu!"

The marquis stopped, aghast at his presumption and choking with rage,
but Malcolm's eyes filled with tears, and, instead of breaking out
again, h