change had come over the fat and ruddy coachman. "Me, Cornel!" he
repeated, wiping the perspiration from his brow. His ruddy face hung in
flabby folds, his knees knocked together, his voice seemed half
extinguished in his throat. Then he began to rub his hands and smile upon
me in a deprecating, imbecile way. "There's nothing I wouldna do to
pleasure ye, Cornel," taking a step further back. "I'm sure _she_ kens
I've aye said I never had to do with a mair fair, weel-spoken
gentleman--" Here Jarvis came to a pause, again looking at me, rubbing
his hands.

"Well?" I said.

"But eh, sir!" he went on, with the same imbecile yet insinuating smile,
"if ye'll reflect that I am no used to my feet. With a horse atween my
legs, or the reins in my hand, I'm maybe nae worse than other men; but on
fit, Cornel--It's no the--bogles--but I've been cavalry, ye see," with a
little hoarse laugh, "a' my life. To face a thing ye dinna understan'--on
your feet, Cornel."

"Well, sir, if _I_ do it," said I tartly, "why shouldn't you?"

"Eh, Cornel, there's an awfu' difference. In the first place, ye tramp
about the haill countryside, and think naething of it; but a walk tires
me mair than a hunard miles' drive; and then ye're a gentleman, and do
your ain pleasure; and you're no so auld as me; and it's for your ain
bairn, ye see, Cornel; and then--"

"He believes in it, Cornel, and you dinna believe in it," the woman said.

"Will you come with me?" I said, turning to her.