'What mair can ye say of us, but just that I'm fond of my joke, and so's she?
I declare to God, by what I ken, she might be the Virgin Mary--if she would just keep clear of the dragoons.

But me! na, deil haet o' me!' 'She is penitent at least,' says M'Brair.
'Do you mean to actually up and tell me to my face that she accused me ?' cried the curate.
'I canna just say that,' replied M'Brair.

'But I rebuked her in the name of God, and she repented before me on her bended knees.' 'Weel, I daursay she's been ower far wi' the dragoons,' said Haddo.

'I never denied that.

I ken naething by it.' 'Man, you but show your nakedness the more plainly,' said M'Brair.
'Poor, blind, besotted creature--and I see you stoytering on the brink of dissolution: your light out, and your hours numbered.