“Oh, I expect my pinance will be out before a mont’, shir; but, until den, I couldn’t take any money.”

“Malcomson,” said he to the gardener, “I think that fellow’s a half fool.  I offered him a crown, and also said.  I would get him a suit of clothes, and he would not take either; but talked about some silly penance he was undergoing.”

“Saul, then, your honor, he may be a fule in ither things, but de’il a ane of him’s a fule in the sceence o’ buttany.  As to that penance, it’s just some Papistrical nonsense, he has gotten into his head—­de’il hae’t mair:  but sure they’re a’ full o’t—­a’ o’ the same graft, an’ a bad one I fear it is.”

“Well, I believe so, Malcomson, I believe so.  However, if the unfortunate fool is clever, give him good wages.”

“Saul, your honor, I’ll do him justice; only I think that, anent that penance he speaks o’, the hail Papish population, bad as we think them, are suffering penance eneuch, one way or tither.  It disna’ beseem a Protestant—­that is, a prelatic Government—­to persecute ony portion o’ Christian people on, account o’ their religion.  We have felt and kenned that in Scotland, sairly.  I’m no freend to persecution, in ony shape.  But, as to this chiel, I ken naething aboot him, but that he is a gude buttanist.  Hout, your honor, to be sure I’ll gi’e him a fair wage for his skeel and labor.”

Malcomson, who was what we have often met, a pedant gardener, saw, however, that the squire’s mind was disturbed.  In the short conversation which they had, he spoke abruptly, and with a flushed countenance; but he was too shrewd to ask him why he seemed so.  It was not, he knew, his business to do so; and as the squire left the garden, to pass into the house, he looked after him, and exclaimed to himself, “my certie, there’s a bee in that man’s bonnet.”

On going to the drawing-room, the squire found Mr. Brown there, and Helen in tears.

“How!” he exclaimed, “what is this?  Helen crying!  Why, what’s the matter, my child?  Brown, have you been scolding her, or reading her a homily to teach her repentance.  Confound me, but I know it would teach her patience, at all events.  What is the matter?”

“My dear Miss Folliard,” said the clergyman, “if you will have the goodness to withdraw, I will explain this shocking business to your father.”

“Shocking business!  Why, in God’s name, Brown, what has happened?  And why is my daughter in tears, I ask again?”

Helen now left the drawing-rooom, and Mr. Brown replied: 

“Sir, a circumstance which, for baseness and diabolical iniquity, is unparalleled in civilized society.  I could not pollute your daughter’s ears by reciting it in her presence, and besides she is already aware of it.”

“Ay, but what is it?  Confound you, don’t keep me on tenter hooks.”

“I shall not do so long, my dear friend.  Who do you imagine your daughter’s maid—­I mean that female attendant upon your pure-minded and virtuous child—­is?”