Heedless of his host's offer of water and a glass, he put it to his
mouth, and swallowed three great gulps hurriedly. Then he breathed
a deep breath, seemed to say with Macbeth, "Ourselves again!" drew
himself up in a chair, and glanced around him with a look of
gathering arrogance. A kind of truculent question was in his
eyes--as much as to say, "Now then, what do you make of it all?
What's your candid notion about me and my extraordinary behaviour?"
After a moment's silence,--
"What puzzles me is this," he said, "how the deuce I came, of all
places, to come just here! I don't believe, in all my wicked
life, I ever made such a fool of myself before--and I've made many
a fool of myself too!"
Receiving no answer, he took another pull at his flask. The laird
stood a little behind and watched him, harking back upon old
stories, putting this and that together, and resolving to have a
talk with old Grannie.
A minute or two more, and his lordship got up, and proceeded to
wash his face and hands, ordering Cosmo about after the things he
wanted, as if he had been his valet.
"Richard's himself again!" he said in a would-be jaunty voice, the
moment he had finished his toilet, and looked in a crow-cocky kind
of a way at the laird. But the latter thought he saw trouble still
underneath the look.
"Now, then, Mr. Warlock, where's this breakfast of yours?" he said.
"For that, my lord," replied the laird, "I must beg you to come to
the kitchen.
Pages:
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183