"
"Preserve you in your senses, master," exclaimed Rebecca, "such as they
are, they are better than none; but had your daughter lived, she would
have been as unlike this damsel as you ever were to your bright browed
wife. Why you are short and shrivelled, so was your daughter; your
features are sharp, and so were hers; she was ever a poor pining thing,
and when I laid her in her grave beside her mother, it was a corpse to
frighten one; it was well for you, as I ever told you, that she died
as soon."
"Yet had she lived, I might have had a thing to love," replied the old
man; and then, looking at Tamar, he added, "They tell me you are the
Laird's daughter,--is it so, fair maid?"
Rebecca again interrupted him. "What folly is this," she said, raising
her voice almost to a shriek, "how know you but that, whilst you are
questioning the damsel, your chests and coffers are in the hands of
robbers; your money, I tell you, is in danger: your gold, your oft-told
gold. You were not wont to be so careless of your gold; up and look
after it. You will be reduced to beg your bread from those you hate;
arise, be strong. Where are your keys? Give them to the damsel; she is
young and active; she will swiftly remove the treasure out of the way.
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