Let me see the wound.
The skene occle is an ugly weapon in a Highland hand." "I mind it no more than the scratch of a wildcat," said the armourer; "and now that the colour is coming to Catharine's cheek again, you shall see me a sound man in a moment." He turned to a corner in which hung a small mirror, and hastily took from his purse some dry lint to apply to the slight wound he had received.

As he unloosed the leathern jacket from his neck and shoulders, the manly and muscular form which they displayed was not more remarkable than the fairness of his skin, where it had not, as in hands and face, been exposed to the effects of rough weather and of his laborious trade.

He hastily applied some lint to stop the bleeding; and a little water having removed all other marks of the fray, he buttoned his doublet anew, and turned again to the table, where Catharine, still pale and trembling, was, however, recovered from her fainting fit.
"Would you but grant me your forgiveness for having offended you in the very first hour of my return?
The lad was foolish to provoke me, and yet I was more foolish to be provoked by such as he.

Your father blames me not, Catharine, and cannot you forgive me ?" "I have no power to forgive," answered Catharine, "what I have no title to resent.

If my father chooses to have his house made the scene of night brawls, I must witness them--I cannot help myself.