"Hair of my complexion?"
"Yours is red," replied she.
"I pray you peace," said the Scotsman. "I was going to say--of my
complexion, but with a deeper shade of the chestnut. Weel, mistress,
if I have guessed the man aright, he is one with whom I am, and have
been, intimate and familiar,--nay,--I may truly say I have done him
much service in my time, and may live to do him more. I had indeed a
sincere good-will for him, and I doubt he has been much at a loss
since we parted; but the fault is not mine. Wherefore, as this letter
will not avail you with him to whom it is directed, you may believe
that heaven hath sent it to me, who have a special regard for the
writer--I have, besides, as much mercy and honesty within me as man
can weel make his bread with, and am willing to aid any distressed
creature, that is my friend's friend, with my counsel, and otherwise,
so that I am not put to much charges, being in a strange country, like
a poor lamb that has wandered from its ain native hirsel, and leaves a
tait of its woo' in every d--d Southron bramble that comes across it."
While he spoke thus, he read the contents of the letter, without
waiting for permission, and then continued,--"And so this is all that
you are wanting, my dove? nothing more than safe and honourable
lodging, and sustenance, upon your own charges?"
"Nothing more," said she. "If you are a man and a Christian, you will
help me to what I need so much.
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