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"
You
’
ve
aye
gotten
me
on
your
side
,
"
said
Mr
.
Fordyce
.
"
No
that
I
’
m
much
of
a
fighter
,
for
my
bowels
melt
and
my
speech
sticks
in
my
throat
and
I
sit
like
a
dumb
ox
,
and
syne
mourn
on
my
bed
in
the
night
watches
that
I
have
been
found
wanting
.
But
my
heart
is
with
you
,
Mr
.
David
,
and
what
voice
my
infirmities
permit
me
,
and
you
’
ll
be
never
out
of
my
prayers
.
.
.
.
Come
to
Cauldshaw
whenever
ye
long
for
speech
with
a
friend
.
I
can
aye
give
you
sympathy
if
I
canna
give
you
counsel
.
"
But
when
David
three
days
later
turned
his
horse
in
the
direction
of
Cauldshaw
,
it
was
not
to
the
manse
he
went
,
but
to
the
tower
of
Calidon
.
For
Katrine
Yester
had
become
for
him
the
only
light
on
his
path
.
She
personified
the
cause
for
which
he
fought
,
the
fair
world
that
stood
in
contrast
to
the
obscene
shades
,
and
since
their
last
meeting
in
Paradise
she
was
no
longer
a
flitting
wood
-
nymph
,
but
a
woman
of
flesh
and
blood
and
heart
.
He
longed
to
see
her
in
the
house
where
she
dwelt
and
among
her
own
people
.
But
there
was
no
Katrine
in
Calidon
that
afternoon
,
for
she
had
gone
to
the
greenwood
.
It
was
a
still
day
of
July
in
which
no
cloud
tempered
the
heat
of
the
sun
,
but
the
great
upper
chamber
in
the
tower
was
cool
and
dusky
.
He
asked
for
Mistress
Saintserf
,
and
was
received
by
that
grim
lady
in
state
,
for
she
kept
him
waiting
while
she
donned
a
new
toy
and
kerchief
for
the
occasion
.
She
spoke
a
Scots
as
broad
as
any
shepherd
’
s
wife
,
but
the
sharp
vowels
of
Edinburgh
took
the
place
of
the
softer
Border
tones
.
Large
and
gaunt
and
domineering
,
her
high
-
nosed
face
and
prim
mouth
were
mellowed
by
an
audacious
humour
.
Katrine
had
clearly
never
spoken
of
him
(
at
which
he
was
glad
)
,
but
she
knew
him
by
repute
and
by
his
connection
with
the
miller
of
the
Roodfoot
.
She
entertained
him
with
shortcake
of
her
own
baking
and
elder
wine
of
her
own
brewing
,
and
her
tone
mingled
the
deference
of
a
good
woman
towards
a
spiritual
guide
and
the
freedom
of
an
old
woman
towards
a
young
man
.
"
That
gilpie
o
’
mine
suld
have
been
here
,
but
she
’
s
awa
’
to
the
hill
.
As
weel
try
to
keep
a
young
juke
frae
the
water
as
Katrine
frae
stravaigin
’
the
countryside
.
And
her
bred
denty
in
France
and
England
whaur
there
are
nae
hills
!
If
she
had
a
joe
[
sweetheart
]
I
wad
say
nocht
,
but
she
has
nae
joe
but
the
whaups
.
"
He
asked
concerning
Nicholas
Hawkshaw
.
"
And
that
’
s
speirin
’
!
"
she
cried
.
"
He
’
s
fechtin
’
and
him
a
lameter
,
but
whaur
he
’
s
fechtin
’
and
in
what
cause
the
Lord
alone
kens
!
Since
he
gaed
off
wi
’
Tam
Purves
three
months
syne
sorrow
a
word
has
come
frae
him
.
He
’
s
maybe
in
England
and
maybe
in
France
,
and
maybe
ryngin
’
with
Montrose
,
and
I
’
ll
wager
,
wherever
he
is
,
him
and
his
swird
and
Tam
and
his
firelock
are
in
the
het
o
’
t
.
Ye
’
ll
no
fetter
a
Hawkshaw
,
and
they
can
nae
mair
bide
in
the
ae
place
than
a
puddock
on
a
brae
,
as
my
puir
sister
that
was
married
on
him
kenned
ower
weel
.
And
the
same
bluid
’
s
in
Katrine
,
wha
suld
hae
been
a
laddie
,
and
a
tinkler
laddie
,
for
it
’
s
no
her
that
will
mind
her
seam
or
watch
the
pot
when
the
sun
’
s
shinin
’
.
She
’
s
a
fine
lassie
for
a
’
that
,
but
by
ordinar
’
forgetfu
’
.
I
wish
I
saw
her
wed
.
"
Of
Woodilee
she
had
many
questions
to
ask
.
"
It
’
s
a
’
Hawkshaw
land
,
but
I
never
likit
the
folk
.
There
’
s
a
wheen
fosy
bodies
yonder
,
wha
pray
mair
with
their
tongues
than
their
hearts
,
and
they
’
re
as
keen
at
a
niffer
[
bargain
]
as
a
Musselburgh
wabster
-
-
aye
wi
’
the
puir
face
and
the
greetin
’
word
when
it
comes
to
payin
’
siller
.
Auld
Dobbie
in
Murchison
’
s
Close
-
-
he
’
s
our
doer
[
man
of
business
]
,
ye
maun
ken
,
as
his
father
was
afore
him
-
-
he
has
had
mony
a
sair
tuilzie
for
our
bits
o
’
rents
.
Now
that
Nicholas
is
at
the
wars
it
’
s
my
shouther
that
has
to
carry
the
burden
,
and
there
’
s
never
a
post
frae
Embro
but
brings
me
Dobbie
’
s
scribin
’
.
Ye
’
ll
ken
that
the
mailin
’
o
’
Crossbasket
is
to
let
,
and
whaur
am
I
to
get
a
guid
tenant
wi
’
the
land
in
siccan
a
steer
?
"
