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solemnly as a true-born Brodie.
MARY. And now you are impertinent! Do you mean to go any
further? We are a fighting race, we Brodies. Oh, you may laugh,
sir! But 'tis no child's play to jest us on our Deacon, or, for
that matter, on our Deacon's chamber either. It was his father's
before him: he works in it by day and sleeps in it by night; and
scarce anything it contains but is the labour of his hands. Do
you see this table, Walter? He made it while he was yet a
'prentice. I remember how I used to sit and watch him at his
work. It would be grand, I thought, to be able to do as he did,
and handle edge-tools without cutting my fingers, and getting my
ears pulled for a meddlesome minx! He used to give me his mallet
to keep and his nails to hold; and didn't I fly when he called
for them! and wasn't I proud to be ordered about with them! And
then, you know, there is the tall cabinet yonder; that it was
that proved him the first of Edinburgh joiners, and worthy to be
their Deacon and their head. And the father's chair, and the
sister's workbox, and the dear dead mother's footstool - what are
they all but proofs of the Deacon's skill, and tokens of the
Deacon's care for those about him?
LESLIE. I am all penitence. Forgive me this last time, and I
promise you I never will again.
MARY. Candidly, now, do you think you deserve forgiveness?
LESLIE. Candidly, I do not.
MARY. Then I suppose you must have it. What have you done with
Willie and my uncle?
LESLIE. I left them talking deeply. The dear old Procurator has
not much thought just now for anything but those mysterious
burglaries -
MARY. I know! -
LESLIE. Still, all of him that is not magistrate and official is
politician and citizen; and he has been striving his hardest to
undermine the Deacon's principles, and win the Deacon's vote and
interest.
MARY. They are worth having, are they not?
LESLIE. The Procurator seems to think that having them makes the
difference between winning and losing.
MARY. Did he say so? You may rely upon it that he knows. There
are not many in Edinburgh who can match with our Will.
LESLIE. There shall be as many as you please, and not one more.
MARY. How I should like to have heard you! What did uncle say?
Did he speak of the Town Council again? Did he tell Will what a
wonderful Bailie he would make? O why did you come away?
LESLIE. I could not pretend to listen any longer. The election
is months off yet; and if it were not - if it were tramping
upstairs this moment - drums, flags, cockades, guineas,
candidates, and all! - how should I care for it? What are Whig
and Tory to me?
MARY. O fie on you! It is for every man to concern himself in
the common weal. Mr. Leslie - Leslie of the Craig! - should know
that much at least.
LESLIE. And be a politician like the Deacon? All in good time,
but not now. I hearkened while I could, and when I could no more
I slipped out and followed my heart. I hoped I should be
welcome.
MARY. I suppose you mean to be unkind.
LESLIE. Tit for tat. Did you not ask me why I came away? And
is it usual for a young lady to say 'Mr.' to the man she means to
marry?
MARY. That is for the young lady to decide, sir.
LESLIE. And against that judgment there shall be no appeal?
MARY. O, if you mean to argue! -
LESLIE. I do not mean to argue. I am content to love and be
loved. I think I am the happiest man in the world.
MARY. That is as it should be; for I am the happiest girl.
LESLIE. Why not say the happiest wife? I have your word, and
you have mine. Is not that enough?
MARY. Have you so soon forgotten? Did I not tell you how it
must be as my brother wills? I can do only as he bids me.
LESLIE. Then you have not spoken as you promised?
MARY. I have been too happy to speak.
LESLIE. I am his friend. Precious as you are, he will trust you
to me. He has but to know how I love you, Mary, and how your
life is all in your love of me, to give us his