Chapter 36

LESLIE, LAWSON, MARY, _seated_. BRODIE _at back_, _walking between the windows and strong-box_.

LAWSON. Weel, weel, weel, weel, nae doubt.

LESLIE. Mr. Lawson, I am perfectly satisfied with Brodie’s word; I will wait gladly.

LAWSON. I have nothing to say against that.

BRODIE (_behind_ LAWSON). Nor for it.

LAWSON. For it? for it, William? Ye’re perfectly richt there. (_To_ LESLIE.) Just you do what William tells you; ye canna do better than that.

MARY. Dear uncle, I see you are vexed; but Will and I are perfectly agreed on the best course. Walter and I are young. Oh, we can wait; we can trust each other.

BRODIE (_from behind_). Leslie, do you think it safe to keep this strong-box in your room?

LESLIE. It does not trouble me.

BRODIE. I would not. ’Tis close to the window.

LESLIE. It’s on the right side of it.

BRODIE. I give you my advice: I would not.

LAWSON. He may be right there too, Mr. Leslie.

BRODIE. I give him fair warning: it’s not safe

LESLIE. I have a different treasure to concern myself about; if all goes right with that I shall be well contented.

MARY. Walter!

LAWSON. Ay, bairns, ye speak for your age.

LESLIE. Surely, sir, for every age; the ties of blood, of love, of friendship, these are life’s essence.

MARY. And for no one is it truer than my uncle. If he live to be a thousand, he will still be young in heart, full of love, full of trust.

LAWSON. All, lassie, it’s a wicked world.

MARY. Yes, you are out of sorts to-day; we know that.

LESLIE. Admitted that you know more of life, sir; admitted (if you please) that the world is wicked; yet you do not lose trust in those you love.

LAWSON. Weel . . . ye get gliffs, ye ken.

LESLIE. I suppose so. We can all be shaken for a time; but not, I think, in our friends. We are not deceived in them; in the few that we admit into our hearts.

MARY. Never in these.

LESLIE. We know these (_to_ BRODIE), and we think the world of them.

BRODIE (_at back_). We are more acquainted with each other’s tailors, believe me. You, Leslie, are a very pleasant creature. My uncle Lawson is the Procurator-Fiscal. I—What am I?—I am the Deacon of the Wrights, my ruffles are generally clean. And you think the world of me? Bravo!

LESLIE. Ay, and I think the world of you.

BRODIE (_at back_, _pointing to_ LAWSON). Ask him.

LAWSON. Hoot-toot. A wheen nonsense: an honest man’s an honest man, and a randy thief’s a randy thief, and neither mair nor less. Mary, my lamb, it’s time you were hame, and had you beauty sleep.

MARY. Do you not come with us?

LAWSON. I gang the ither gate, my lamb. (LESLIE _helps_ MARY _on with her cloak_, _and they say farewell at back_. BRODIE _for the first time comes front with_ LAWSON.) Sae ye’ve consented?

BRODIE. As you see.

LAWSON. Ye’ll can pay it back?

BRODIE. I will.

LAWSON. And how? That’s what I’m wonderin’ to mysel’.

BRODIE. Ay, God knows that.

MARY. Come, Will.