human
I love you dearly, I said,
gpt
I want you,
human
Shall we exchange vows?
gpt
What vows, sir?
human
Such as engage our honour. I want you to wife, Penelope Grant.
gpt
Dear lad! What are you saying? You should travel widely and at leisure before you commit your honour to an unconsidered vow. I desire that you first see great cities, other countries, other women--of your own caste.... And then ... if you return ... and are still of the same mind ... concerning me....
human
But _you_? There are other men in the world. And I must have your vows before I go!
gpt
Oh, if it be only mine you desire, then I promise you, John Drogue, to look at no man with kindness in your absence, think of no man excepting you, pray for none save only His Excellency and General Schuyler, dream of none, God willing, but you. And to remain in deed and thought and word and conduct constant and faithful to you alone.
human
Then, said I, trembling,
gpt
I also promise----
human
No!
gpt
But I----
human
Wait! For God's sake mind what you say; for I will not have it that your honour should ever summon you hither and not your heart! No! Let be as it is.
gpt
Any person of sense must know that a marriage is unsuitable between a servant to Douw Fonda and John Murray Drogue _Forbes_, Laird of Northesk, and a Stormont to boot!
human
Where got you that _Forbes_?
gpt
Because I know the clan, _my lord_!
human
How do you know?
gpt
Because it is my own clan and name. Drogue-Forbes, Grant-Forbes!--a claymore or a pair of scissors can snip the link when some Glencoe or Culloden of adversity scatters families to the four winds and seven seas.... Well, sir, as the saying is in Northesk, 'a Drogue stops at nothing but a Forbes. And a Grant is as stubborn.' Did you ever hear that?
human
Yes.... And _you_ are a Forbes of Northesk?
gpt
Like yourself, sir, we _stop before a liaison_.
human
Good God, said I,
gpt
A would na, quoth she, her chin hanging down, but the brown eyes of her watching me.
human
And it was a servant-maid you asked to wife you, and none other either.... D'ye ken that, you Stormont lad? It was me--me!--who may wear the _Beadlaidh_, too!--me who can cry '_Lonach! Lonach! Creag Ealachaidh!_' with as stout a heart and clean a pride as you, Ian Drogue, Laird o' Northesk!--laird o' my soul and heart--my lord--my dear, dear lord----