I'm off, tell her.

I'd as soon go to bed in the drifts as stop another hour in this abominable old lime-kiln.
The laird let him rave on: it was useless to oppose him.

He flew at his clothes to dress himself, but his poor old hands trembled with rage, fear, drink, and eagerness.

The laird did his best to help him, but he seemed nowise recognizant.
"I will get you some hot water, my lord," he said at length, and was moving towards the door.
"No,--you!--everybody!" shrieked the old man.

"If you go out of that door, I will throw myself out of this window." The laird turned at once, and in silence waited on him like a servant.