It's fearsome to hearken til ye!"
"It'll be waur to hear me roarin wi' the rich man i' the lowes o' hell!"
"Peter! Peter!" cried Marion, driven almost to distraction, "here's yer ain
son, puir fallow, blasphemin like ane o' the condemned! He jist gars me
creep!"
Receiving no answer, for her husband was nowhere near at the moment, she
called aloud in her desperation--
"Isy! Isy! come and see gien ye can dee onything to quaiet this ill bairn."
Isy heard, and sprang from her bed.
"Comin, mistress!" she answered; "comin this moment."
They had not met since her resurrection, as Peter always called it.
"Isy! Isy!" cried James, the moment he heard her approaching, "come and
hand the deil aff o' me!"
He had risen to his elbow, and was looking eagerly toward the door.
She entered. James threw wide his arms, and with glowing eyes clasped her
to his bosom. She made no resistance: his mother would lay it all to the
fever! He broke into wild words of love, repentance, and devotion.
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