Each time it occurred to me, the ingenious foulness of that calumny he had proposed to nail upon my character startled me afresh.

The case of the man upon the gibbet by Leith Walk appeared scarce distinguishable from that I was now to consider as my own.

To rob a child of so little more than nothing was certainly a paltry enterprise for two grown men; but my own tale, as it was to be represented in a court by Symon Fraser, appeared a fair second in every possible point of view of sordidness and cowardice.
The voices of two of Prestongrange's liveried men upon his doorstep recalled me to myself.
"Ha'e," said the one, "this billet as fast as ye can link to the captain." "Is that for the cateran back again ?" asked the other.
"It would seem sae," returned the first.

"Him and Symon are seeking him." "I think Prestongrange is gane gyte," says the second.

"He'll have James More in bed with him next." "Weel, it's neither your affair nor mine's," says the first.
And they parted, the one upon his errand, and the other back into the house.
This looked as ill as possible.