about," said Mrs Courthope. "Nor is it only Campbell of Glenlyon
he's so fierce against, but all his posterity as well."

"They dinna exist, mem. There's no sic a bein' o' the face o' the
yearth, as a descendant o' that Glenlyon."

"It makes little difference, I fear," said Mrs Courthope, who was
no bad logician. "The question isn't whether or not there's anybody
to forgive, but whether Duncan MacPhail is willing to forgive."

"That I do believe he is, mem; though he wad be as sair astonished
to hear 't as ye are yersel'."

"I don't know what you mean by that, Malcolm."

"I mean, mem, 'at a blin' man, like my gran'father, canna ken himsel'
richt, seein' he canna ken ither fowk richt. It's by kennin' ither
fowk 'at ye come to ken yersel, mem--isna't noo?"

"Blindness surely doesn't prevent a man from knowing other people.
He hears them, and he feels them, and indeed has generally more
kindness from them because of his affliction."

"Frae some o' them, mem; but it's little kin'ness my gran'father
has expairienced frae Cawmill o' Glenlyon, mem."

"And just as little injury, I should suppose," said Mrs Courthope.

"Ye're wrang there, mem: a murdered mither maun be an unco skaith
to oye's oye (grandson's grandson). But supposin' ye to be richt,