"_Statim atque instanter_," answered Lord Dalgarno; "for I perceive by
doing so, I shall obtain power to render great services to the
commonwealth--I shall have acquired wealth to supply the wants of your
Majesty, and a fair wife to be at the command of his Grace of
Buckingham."

The Duke rose, passed to the end of the table where Lord Dalgarno was
standing, and whispered in his ear, "You have placed a fair sister at
my command ere now."

This taunt cut deep through Lord Dalgarno's assumed composure. He
started as if an adder had stung him, but instantly composed himself,
and, fixing on the Duke's still smiling countenance an eye which spoke
unutterable hatred, he pointed the forefinger of his left hand to the
hilt of his sword, but in a manner which could scarce be observed by
any one save Buckingham. The Duke gave him another smile of bitter
scorn, and returned to his seat, in obedience to the commands of the
king, who continued calling out, "Sit down, Steenie, sit down, I
command ye--we will hae nae harnsbreaking here."

"Your Majesty needs not fear my patience," said Lord Dalgarno; "and
that I may keep it the better, I will not utter another word in this
presence, save those enjoined to me in that happy portion of the
Prayer-Book, which begins with _Dearly Beloved_, and ends with
_amazement_."

"You are a hardened villain, Dalgarno," said the king; "and were I the
lass, by my father's saul, I would rather brook the stain of having
been your concubine, than run the risk of becoming your wife. But she
shall be under our special protection.--Come, my lords, we will
ourselves see this blithesome bridal." He gave the signal by rising,
and moved towards the door, followed by the train. Lord Dalgarno
attended, speaking to none, and spoken to by no one, yet seeming as
easy and unembarrassed in his gait and manner as if in reality a happy
bridegroom.

They reached the Chapel by a private entrance, which communicated from
the royal apartment. The Bishop of Winchester, in his pontifical
dress, stood beside the altar; on the other side, supported by Monna
Paula, the colourless, faded, half-lifeless form of the Lady Hermione,
or Erminia Pauletti. Lord Dalgarno bowed profoundly to her, and the
Prince, observing the horror with which she regarded him, walked up,
and said to her, with much dignity,--"Madam, ere you put yourself
under the authority of this man, let me inform you, he hath in the
fullest degree vindicated your honour, so far as concerns your former
intercourse. It is for you to consider whether you will put your
fortune and happiness into the hands of one, who has shown himself
unworthy of all trust."

The lady, with much difficulty, found words to make reply. "I owe to
his Majesty's goodness," she said, "the care of providing me some
reservation out of my own fortune, for my decent sustenance. The rest
cannot be better disposed than in buying back the fair fame of which I
am deprived, and the liberty of ending my life in peace and
seclusion."

"The contract has been drawn up," said the king, "under our own eye,
specially discharging the _potestas maritalis_, and agreeing they
shall live separate. So buckle them, my Lord Bishop, as fast as you
can, that they may sunder again the sooner."

The Bishop accordingly opened his book and commenced the marriage
ceremony, under circumstances so novel and so inauspicious. The
responses of the bride were only expressed by inclinations of the head
and body; while those of the bridegroom were spoken boldly and
distinctly, with a tone resembling levity, if not scorn. When it was
concluded, Lord Dalgarno advanced as if to salute the bride, but
seeing that she drew back in fear and abhorrence, he contented himself
with making her a low bow. He then drew up his form to its height, and
stretched himself as if examining the power of his limbs, but
elegantly, and without any forcible change of attitude. "I could caper
yet," he said "though I am in fetters--but they are of gold, and
lightly worn.--Well, I see all eyes look cold on me, and it is time I
should withdraw. The sun shines elsewhere than in England! But first I
must ask how this fair Lady Dalgarno is to be bestowed. Methinks it is
but decent I should know. Is she to be sent to the harem of my Lord
Duke? Or is this worthy citizen, as before--"

"Hold thy base ribald tongue!" said his father, Lord Huntinglen, who
had kept in the background during the ceremony, and now stepping
suddenly forward, caught the lady by the arm, and confronted her
unworthy husband.--"The Lady Dalgarno," he continued, "shall remain as
a widow in my house. A widow I esteem her, as much as if the grave had
closed over her dishonoured husband."

Lord Dalgarno exhibited momentary symptoms of extreme confusion, and
said, in a submissive tone, "If you, my lord, can wish me dead, I
cannot, though your heir, return the compliment. Few of the first-born
of Israel," he added, recovering himself from the single touch of
emotion he had displayed, "can say so much with truth. But I will
convince you ere I go, that I am a true descendant of a house famed
for its memory of injuries."

"I marvel your Majesty will listen to him longer," said Prince
Charles. "Methinks we have heard enough of his daring insolence."

But James, who took the interest of a true gossip in such a scene as
was now passing, could not bear to cut the controversy short, but
imposed silence on his son, with "Whisht, Baby Charles--there is a
good bairn, whisht!--I want to hear what the frontless loon can say."

"Only, sir," said Dalgarno, "that but for one single line in this
schedule, all else that it contains could not have bribed me to take
that woman's hand into mine."

"That line maun have been the SUMMA TOTALIS," said the king.

"Not so, sire," replied Dalgarno. "The sum total might indeed have
been an object for consideration even to a Scottish king, at no very
distant period; but it would have had little charms for me, save that
I see here an entry which gives me the power of vengeance over the
family of Glenvarloch; and learn from it that yonder pale bride, when
she put the wedding-torch into my hand, gave me the power of burning
her mother's house to ashes!"

"How is that?" said the king. "What is he speaking about, Jingling
Geordie?"

"This friendly citizen, my liege," said Lord Dalgarno, "hath expended
a sum belonging to my lady, and now, I thank heaven, to me, in
acquiring a certain mortgage, or wanset, over the estate of
Glenvarloch, which, if it be not redeemed before to-morrow at noon,
will put me in possession of the fair demesnes of those who once
called themselves our house's rivals."

"Can this be true?" said the king.

"It is even but too true, please your Majesty," answered the citizen.
"The Lady Hermione having advanced the money for the original
creditor, I was obliged, in honour and honesty, to take the rights to
her; and doubtless, they pass to her husband."

"But the warrant, man," said the king--"the warrant on our Exchequer--
Couldna that supply the lad wi' the means of redemption?"

"Unhappily, my liege, he has lost it, or disposed of it--It is not to
be found. He is the most unlucky youth!"

"This is a proper spot of work!" said the king, beginning to amble
about and play with the points of his doublet and hose, in expression
of dismay. "We cannot aid him without paying our debts twice over, and
we have, in the present state of our Exchequer, scarce the means of
paying them once."

"You have told me news," said Lord Dalgarno, "but I will take no
advantage."

"Do not," said his father, "be a bold villain, since thou must be one,
and seek revenge with arms, and not with the usurer's weapons."

"Pardon me, my lord," said Lord Dalgarno. "Pen and ink are now my
surest means of vengeance; and more land is won by the lawyer with the
ram-skin, than by the Andrea Ferrara with his sheepshead handle. But,
as I said before, I will take no advantages. I will await in town to-
morrow, near Covent Garden; if any one will pay the redemption-money
to my scrivener, with whom the deeds lie, the better for Lord
Glenvarloch; if not, I will go forward on the next day, and travel
with all dispatch to the north, to take possession."

"Take a father's malison with you, unhappy wretch!" said Lord
Huntinglen.

"And a king's, who is _pater patriae_," said James.

"I trust to bear both lightly," said Lord Dalgarno; and bowing around
him, he withdrew; while all present, oppressed, and, as it were,
overawed, by his determined effrontery, found they could draw breath
more freely, when he at length relieved them of his society. Lord
Huntinglen, applying himself to comfort his new daughter-in-law,
withdrew with her also; and the king, with his privy-council, whom he
had not dismissed, again returned to his council-chamber, though the
hour was unusually late. Heriot's attendance was still commanded, but
for what reason was not explained to him.




CHAPTER XXXIII


---I'll play the eavesdropper.
                _Richard III., Act V., Scene 3_.

James had no sooner resumed his seat at the council-board than he
began to hitch in his chair, cough, use his handkerchief, and make
other intimations that he meditated a long speech. The council
composed themselves to the beseeming degree of attention. Charles, as
strict in his notions of decorum, as his father was indifferent to it,
fixed himself in an attitude of rigid and respectful attention, while
the haughty favourite, conscious of his power over both father and
son, stretched himself more easily on his seat, and, in assuming an
appearance of listening, seemed to pay a debt to ceremonial rather
than to duty.

"I doubt not, my lords," said the Monarch, "that some of you may be
thinking the hour of refection is past, and that it is time to ask
with the slave in the comedy--_Quid de symbolo?_--Nevertheless, to do
justice and exercise judgment is our meat and drink; and now we are to
pray your wisdom to consider the case of this unhappy youth, Lord
Glenvarloch, and see whether, consistently with our honour, any thing
can be done in his favour."

"I am surprised at your Majesty's wisdom making the inquiry," said the
Duke; "it is plain this Dalgarno hath proved one of the most insolent
villains on earth, and it must therefore be clear, that if Lord
Glenvarloch had run him through the body, there would but have been
out of the world a knave who had lived in it too long. I think Lord
Glenvarloch hath had much wrong; and I regret that, by the persuasions
of this false fellow, I have myself had some hand in it."

"Ye speak like a child, Steenie--I mean my Lord of Buckingham,"
answered the king, "and as one that does not understand the logic of
the schools; for an action may be inconsequential or even meritorious,
_quoad hominem_, that is, as touching him upon _whom_ it is acted; and
yet most criminal, _quoad locum_, or considering the place _wherein_
it is done; as a man may lawfully dance Chrighty Beardie or any other
dance in a tavern, but not _inter parietes ecclesiae_. So that, though
it may have been a good deed to have sticked Lord Dalgarno, being such
as he has shown himself, anywhere else, yet it fell under the plain
statute, when violence was offered within the verge of the Court. For,
let me tell you, my lords, the statute against striking would be of no
small use in our Court, if it could be eluded by justifying the person
stricken to be a knave. It is much to be lamented that I ken nae Court
in Christendom where knaves are not to be found; and if men are to
break the peace under pretence of beating them, why, it will rain
Jeddart staves [Footnote: The old-fashioned weapon called the Jeddart
staff was a species of battle-axe. Of a very great tempest, it is
said, in the south of Scotland, that it rains Jeddart staffs, as in
England the common people talk of its raining cats and dogs.] in our
very ante-chamber."

"What your Majesty says," replied Prince Charles, "is marked with your
usual wisdom--the precincts of palaces must be sacred as well as the
persons of kings, which are respected even in the most barbarous
nations, as being one step only beneath their divinities. But your
Majesty's will can control the severity of this and every other law,
and it is in your power, on consideration of his case, to grant the
rash young man a free pardon."

"_Rem acu tetigisti, Carole, mi puerule,_" answered the king; "and
know, my lords, that we have, by a shrewd device and gift of our own,
already sounded the very depth of this Lord Glenvarloch's disposition.
I trow there be among you some that remember my handling in the
curious case of my Lady Lake, and how I trimmed them about the story
of hearkening behind the arras. Now this put me to cogitation, and I
remembered me of having read that Dionysius, King of Syracuse, whom
historians call Tyrannos, which signifieth not in the
Greek tongue, as in ours, a truculent usurper, but a royal king who
governs, it may be, something more strictly than we and other lawful
monarchs, whom the ancients termed Basileis--Now this Dionysius of
Syracuse caused cunning workmen to build for himself a _lugg_--D'ye
ken what that is, my Lord Bishop?"

"A cathedral, I presume to guess," answered the Bishop.

"What the deil, man--I crave your lordship's pardon for swearing--but
it was no cathedral--only a lurking-place called the king's _lugg_, or
_ear_, where he could sit undescried, and hear the converse of his
prisoners. Now, sirs, in imitation of this Dionysius, whom I took for
my pattern, the rather that he was a great linguist and grammarian,
and taught a school with good applause after his abdication, (either
he or his successor of the same name, it matters not whilk)--I have
caused them to make a _lugg_ up at the state-prison of the Tower
yonder, more like a pulpit than a cathedral, my Lord Bishop--and
communicating with the arras behind the Lieutenant's chamber, where we
may sit and privily hear the discourse of such prisoners as are pent
up there for state-offences, and so creep into the very secrets of our
enemies."

The Prince cast a glance towards the Duke, expressive of great
vexation and disgust. Buckingham shrugged his shoulders, but the
motion was so slight as to be almost imperceptible.

"Weel, my lords, ye ken the fray at the hunting this morning--I shall
not get out of the trembling exies until I have a sound night's sleep-
-just after that, they bring ye in a pretty page that had been found
in the Park. We were warned against examining him ourselves by the
anxious care of those around us; nevertheless, holding our life ever
at the service of these kingdoms, we commanded all to avoid the room,
the rather that we suspected this boy to be a girl. What think ye, my
lords?--few of you would have thought I had a hawk's eye for sic gear;
but we thank God, that though we are old, we know so much of such toys
as may beseem a man of decent gravity. Weel, my lords, we questioned
this maiden in male attire ourselves, and I profess it was a very
pretty interrogatory, and well followed. For, though she at first
professed that she assumed this disguise in order to countenance the
woman who should present us with the Lady Hermione's petition, for
whom she professed entire affection; yet when we, suspecting _anguis
in herba_, did put her to the very question, she was compelled to own
a virtuous attachment for Glenvarlochides, in such a pretty passion of
shame and fear, that we had much ado to keep our own eyes from keeping
company with hers in weeping. Also, she laid before us the false
practices of this Dalgarno towards Glenvarlochides, inveigling him
into houses of ill resort, and giving him evil counsel under pretext
of sincere friendship, whereby the inexperienced lad was led to do
what was prejudicial to himself, and offensive to us. But, however
prettily she told her tale, we determined not altogether to trust to
her narration, but rather to try the experiment whilk we had devised
for such occasions. And having ourselves speedily passed from
Greenwich to the Tower, we constituted ourselves eavesdropper, as it
is called, to observe what should pass between Glenvarlochides and his
page, whom we caused to be admitted to his apartment, well judging
that if they were of counsel together to deceive us, it could not be
but something of it would spunk out--And what think ye we saw, my
lords?--Naething for you to sniggle and laugh at, Steenie--for I
question if you could have played the temperate and Christian-like
part of this poor lad Glenvarloch. He might be a Father of the Church
in comparison of you, man.--And then, to try his patience yet farther,
we loosed on him a courtier and a citizen, that is Sir Mungo
Malagrowther and our servant George Heriot here, wha dang the poor lad
about, and didna greatly spare our royal selves.--You mind, Geordie,
what you said about the wives and concubines? but I forgie ye, man--
nae need of kneeling, I forgie ye--the readier, that it regards a
certain particular, whilk, as it added not much to Solomon's credit,
the lack of it cannot be said to impinge on ours. Aweel, my lords, for
all temptation of sore distress and evil ensample, this poor lad never
loosed his tongue on us to say one unbecoming word--which inclines us
the rather, acting always by your wise advice, to treat this affair of
the Park as a thing done in the heat of blood, and under strong
provocation, and therefore to confer our free pardon on Lord
Glenvarloch."

"I am happy your gracious Majesty," said the Duke of Buckingham, "has
arrived at that conclusion, though I could never have guessed at the
road by which you attained it."

"I trust," said Prince Charles, "that it is not a path which your
Majesty will think it consistent with your high dignity to tread
frequently."

"Never while I live again, Baby Charles, that I give you my royal word
on. They say that hearkeners hear ill tales of themselves--by my saul,
my very ears are tingling wi' that auld sorrow Sir Mungo's sarcasms.
He called us close-fisted, Steenie--I am sure you can contradict that.
But it is mere envy in the auld mutilated sinner, because he himself
has neither a noble to hold in his loof, nor fingers to close on it if
he had." Here the king lost recollection of Sir Mungo's irreverence in
chuckling over his own wit, and only farther alluded to it by saying--
"We must give the old maunderer _bos in linguam_--something to stop
his mouth, or he will rail at us from Dan to Beersheba.--And now, my
lords, let our warrant of mercy to Lord Glenvarloch be presently
expedited, and he put to his freedom; and as his estate is likely to
go so sleaveless a gate, we will consider what means of favour we can
show him.--My lords, I wish you an appetite to an early supper--for
our labours have approached that term.--Baby Charles and Steenie, you
will remain till our couchee.--My Lord Bishop, you will be pleased to
stay to bless our meat.--Geordie Heriot, a word with you apart."

His Majesty then drew the citizen into a corner, while the
counsellors, those excepted who had been commanded to remain, made
their obeisance, and withdrew. "Geordie," said the king, "my good and
trusty servant"--Here he busied his fingers much with the points and
ribbons of his dress,--"Ye see that we have granted, from our own
natural sense of right and justice, that which yon long-backed fallow,
Moniplies I think they ca' him, proffered to purchase from us with a
mighty bribe; whilk we refused, as being a crowned king, who wad
neither sell our justice nor our mercy for pecuniar consideration.
Now, what think ye should be the upshot of this?"

"My Lord Glenvarloch's freedom, and his restoration to your Majesty's
favour," said Heriot.

"I ken that," said the king, peevishly. "Ye are very dull to-day. I
mean, what do you think this fallow Moniplies should think about the
matter?"

"Surely that your Majesty is a most good and gracious sovereign,"
answered Heriot.

"We had need to be gude and gracious baith," said the king, still more
pettishly, "that have idiots about us that cannot understand what we
mint at, unless we speak it out in braid Lowlands. See this chield
Moniplies, sir, and tell him what we have done for Lord Glenvarloch,
in whom he takes such part, out of our own gracious motion, though we
refused to do it on ony proffer of private advantage. Now, you may put
it till him, as if of your own mind, whether it will be a gracious or
a dutiful part in him, to press us for present payment of the two or
three hundred miserable pounds for whilk we were obliged to opignorate
our jewels? Indeed, mony men may think ye wad do the part of a good
citizen, if you took it on yourself to refuse him payment, seeing he
hath had what he professed to esteem full satisfaction, and
considering, moreover, that it is evident he hath no pressing need of
the money, whereof we have much necessity."

George Heriot sighed internally. "O my Master," thought he--"my dear
Master, is it then fated you are never to indulge any kingly or noble
sentiment, without its being sullied by some afterthought of
interested selfishness!"

The king troubled himself not about what he thought, but taking him by
the collar, said,--"Ye ken my meaning now, Jingler--awa wi' ye. You
are a wise man--manage it your ain gate--but forget not our present
straits." The citizen made his obeisance, and withdrew.

"And now, bairns," said the king, "what do you look upon each other
for--and what have you got to ask of your dear dad and gossip?"

"Only," said the Prince, "that it would please your Majesty to command
the lurking-place at the prison to be presently built up--the groans
of a captive should not be brought in evidence against him."

"What! build up my lugg, Baby Charles? And yet, better deaf than hear
ill tales of oneself. So let them build it up, hard and fast, without
delay, the rather that my back is sair with sitting in it for a whole
hour.--And now let us see what the cooks have been doing for us, bonny
bairns."




CHAPTER XXXIV


  To this brave man the knight repairs
  For counsel in his law affairs;
  And found him mounted in his pew.
  With books and money placed for show,
  Like nest-eggs to make clients lay,
  And for his false opinion pay.
                        _Hudibras._

Our readers may recollect a certain smooth-tongued, lank-haired,
buckram-suited, Scottish scrivener, who, in the earlier part of this
history, appeared in the character of a protege of George Heriot. It
is to his house we are about to remove, but times have changed with
him. The petty booth hath become a chamber of importance--the buckram
suit is changed into black velvet; and although the wearer retains his
puritanical humility and politeness to clients of consequence, he can
now look others broad in the face, and treat them with a full
allowance of superior opulence, and the insolence arising from it. It
was but a short period that had achieved these alterations, nor was
the party himself as yet entirely accustomed to them, but the change
was becoming less embarrassing to him with every day's practice. Among
other acquisitions of wealth, you may see one of Davy Ramsay's best
timepieces on the table, and his eye is frequently observing its
revolutions, while a boy, whom he employs as a scribe, is occasionally
sent out to compare its progress with the clock of Saint Dunstan.

The scrivener himself seemed considerably agitated. He took from a
strong-box a bundle of parchments, and read passages of them with
great attention; then began to soliloquize--"There is no outlet which
law can suggest--no back-door of evasion--none--if the lands of
Glenvarloch are not redeemed before it rings noon, Lord Dalgarno has
them a cheap pennyworth. Strange, that he should have been at last
able to set his patron at defiance, and achieve for himself the fair
estate, with the prospect of which he so long flattered the powerful
Buckingham.--Might not Andrew Skurliewhitter nick him as neatly? He
hath been my patron--true--not more than Buckingham was his; and he
can be so no more, for he departs presently for Scotland. I am glad of
it--I hate him, and I fear him. He knows too many of my secrets--I
know too many of his. But, no--no--no--I need never attempt it, there
are no means of over-reaching him.--Well, Willie, what o'clock?"

"Ele'en hours just chappit, sir."

"Go to your desk without, child," said the scrivener. "What to do
next--I shall lose the old Earl's fair business, and, what is worse,
his son's foul practice. Old Heriot looks too close into business to
permit me more than the paltry and ordinary dues. The Whitefriars
business was profitable, but it has become unsafe ever since--pah!--
what brought that in my head just now? I can hardly hold my pen--if
men should see me in this way!--Willie," (calling aloud to the boy,)
"a cup of distilled waters--Soh!--now I could face the devil."

He spoke the last words aloud, and close by the door of the apartment,
which was suddenly opened by Richie Moniplies, followed by two
gentlemen, and attended by two porters bearing money-bags. "If ye can
face the devil, Maister Skurliewhitter," said Richie, "ye will be the
less likely to turn your back on a sack or twa o' siller, which I have
ta'en the freedom to bring you. Sathanas and Mammon are near akin."
The porters, at the same time, ranged their load on the floor.

"I--I,"--stammered the surprised scrivener--"I cannot guess what you
mean, sir."

"Only that I have brought you the redemption-money on the part of Lord
Glenvarloch, in discharge of a certain mortgage over his family
inheritance. And here, in good time, comes Master Reginald Lowestoffe,
and another honourable gentleman of the Temple, to be witnesses to the
transaction."

"I--I incline to think," said the scrivener, "that the term is
expired."

"You will pardon us, Master Scrivener," said Lowestoffe. "You will not
baffle us--it wants three-quarters of noon by every clock in the
city."

"I must have time, gentlemen," said Andrew, "to examine the gold by
tale and weight."

"Do so at your leisure, Master Scrivener," replied Lowestoffe again.
"We have already seen the contents of each sack told and weighed, and
we have put our seals on them. There they stand in a row, twenty in
number, each containing three hundred yellow-hammers--we are witnesses
to the lawful tender."

"Gentlemen," said the scrivener, "this security now belongs to a
mighty lord. I pray you, abate your haste, and let me send for Lord
Dalgarno,--or rather I will run for him myself."

So saying, he took up his hat; but Lowestoffe called out,--"Friend
Moniplies, keep the door fast, an thou be'st a man! he seeks but to
put off the time.--In plain terms, Andrew, you may send for the devil,
if you will, who is the mightiest lord of my acquaintance, but from
hence you stir not till you have answered our proposition, by
rejecting or accepting the redemption-money fairly tendered--there it
lies--take it, or leave it, as you will. I have skill enough to know
that the law is mightier than any lord in Britain--I have learned so
much at the Temple, if I have learned nothing else. And see that you
trifle not with it, lest it make your long ears an inch shorter,
Master Skurliewhitter."

"Nay, gentlemen, if you threaten me," said the scrivener, "I cannot
resist compulsion."

"No threats--no threats at all, my little Andrew," said Lowestoffe; "a
little friendly advice only--forget not, honest Andrew, I have seen
you in Alsatia."

Without answering a single word, the scrivener sat down, and drew in
proper form a full receipt for the money proffered.

"I take it on your report, Master Lowestoffe," he said; "I hope you
will remember I have insisted neither upon weight nor tale--I have
been civil--if there is deficiency I shall come to loss."

"Fillip his nose with a gold-piece, Richie," quoth the Templar. "Take
up the papers, and now wend we merrily to dine thou wot'st where."

"If I might choose," said Richie, "it should not be at yonder roguish
ordinary; but as it is your pleasure, gentlemen, the treat shall be
given wheresoever you will have it."

"At the ordinary," said the one Templar.

"At Beaujeu's," said the other; "it is the only house in London for
neat wines, nimble drawers, choice dishes, and--"

"And high charges," quoth Richie Moniplies. "But, as I said before,
gentlemen, ye have a right to command me in this thing, having so
frankly rendered me your service in this small matter of business,
without other stipulation than that of a slight banquet."

The latter part of this discourse passed in the street, where,
immediately afterwards, they met Lord Dalgarno. He appeared in haste,
touched his hat slightly to Master Lowestoffe, who returned his
reverence with the same negligence, and walked slowly on with his
companion, while Lord Dalgarno stopped Richie Moniplies with a
commanding sign, which the instinct of education compelled Moniplies,
though indignant, to obey.

"Whom do you now follow, sirrah?" demanded the noble.

"Whomsoever goeth before me, my lord," answered Moniplies.

"No sauciness, you knave--I desire to know if you still serve Nigel
Olifaunt?" said Dalgarno.

"I am friend to the noble Lord Glenvarloch," answered Moniplies, with
dignity.

"True," replied Lord Dalgarno, "that noble lord has sunk to seek
friends among lackeys--Nevertheless,--hark thee hither,--nevertheless,
if he be of the same mind as when we last met, thou mayst show him,
that, on to-morrow, at four afternoon, I shall pass northward by
Enfield Chase--I will be slenderly attended, as I design to send my
train through Barnet. It is my purpose to ride an easy pace through
the forest, and to linger a while by Camlet Moat--he knows the place;
and, if he be aught but an Alsatian bully, will think it fitter for
some purposes than the Park. He is, I understand, at liberty, or
shortly to be so. If he fail me at the place nominated, he must seek
me in Scotland, where he will find me possessed of his father's estate
and lands."

"Humph!" muttered Richie; "there go twa words to that bargain."

He even meditated a joke on the means which he was conscious he
possessed of baffling Lord Dalgarno's expectations; but there was
something of keen and dangerous excitement in the eyes of the young
nobleman, which prompted his discretion for once to rule his vit, and
he only answered--

"God grant your lordship may well brook your new conquest--when you
get it. I shall do your errand to my lord--whilk is to say," he added
internally, "he shall never hear a word of it from Richie. I am not
the lad to put him in such hazard."

Lord Dalgarno looked at him sharply for a moment, as if to penetrate
the meaning of the dry ironical tone, which, in spite of Richie's awe,
mingled with his answer, and then waved his hand, in signal he should
pass on. He himself walked slowly till the trio were out of sight,
then turned back with hasty steps to the door of the scrivener, which
he had passed in his progress, knocked, and was admitted.

Lord Dalgarno found the man of law with the money-bags still standing
before him; and it escaped not his penetrating glance, that
Skurliewhitter was disconcerted and alarmed at his approach.

"How now, man," he said; "what! hast thou not a word of oily
compliment to me on my happy marriage?--not a word of most
philosophical consolation on my disgrace at Court?--Or has my mien, as
a wittol and discarded favourite, the properties of the Gorgon's head,
the _turbatae Palladis arma_, as Majesty might say?"

"My lord, I am glad--my lord, I am sorry,"--answered the trembling
scrivener, who, aware of the vivacity of Lord Dalgarno's temper,
dreaded the consequence of the communication he had to make to him.

"Glad and sorry!" answered Lord Dalgarno. "That is blowing hot and
cold, with a witness. Hark ye, you picture of petty-larceny
personified--if you are sorry I am a cuckold, remember I am only mine
own, you knave--there is too little blood in her cheeks to have sent
her astray elsewhere. Well, I will bear mine antler'd honours as I
may--gold shall gild them; and for my disgrace, revenge shall sweeten
it. Ay, revenge--and there strikes the happy hour!"

The hour of noon was accordingly heard to peal from Saint Dunstan's.
"Well banged, brave hammers!" said Lord Dalgarno, in triumph.--"The
estate and lands of Glenvarloch are crushed beneath these clanging
blows. If my steel to-morrow prove but as true as your iron maces to-
day, the poor landless lord will little miss what your peal hath cut
him out from.--The papers--the papers, thou varlet! I am to-morrow
Northward, ho! At four, afternoon, I am bound to be at Camlet Moat, in
the Enfield Chase. To-night most of my retinue set forward. The
papers!--Come, dispatch."

"My lord, the--the papers of the Glenvarloch mortgage--I--I have them
not."

"Have them not!" echoed Lord Dalgarno,--"Hast thou sent them to my
lodgings, thou varlet? Did I not say I was coming hither?--What mean
you by pointing to that money? What villainy have you done for it? It
is too large to be come honestly by."

"Your lordship knows best," answered the scrivener, in great
perturbation. "The gold is your own. It is--it is--"

"Not the redemption-money of the Glenvarloch estate!" said Dalgarno.
"Dare not say it is, or I will, upon the spot, divorce your
pettifogging soul from your carrion carcass!" So saying, he seized the
scrivener by the collar, and shook him so vehemently, that he tore it
from the cassock.

"My lord, I must call for help," said the trembling caitiff, who felt
at that moment all the bitterness of the mortal agony--"It was the
law's act, not mine. What could I do?"

"Dost ask?--why, thou snivelling dribblet of damnation, were all thy
oaths, tricks, and lies spent? or do you hold yourself too good to
utter them in my service? Thou shouldst have lied, cozened, out-sworn
truth itself, rather than stood betwixt me and my revenge! But mark
me," he continued; "I know more of your pranks than would hang thee. A
line from me to the Attorney-General, and thou art sped."

"What would you have me to do, my lord?" said the scrivener. "All that
art and law can accomplish, I will try."

"Ah, are you converted? do so, or pity of your life!" said the lord;
"and remember I never fail my word.--Then keep that accursed gold," he
continued. "Or, stay, I will not trust you--send me this gold home
presently to my lodging. I will still forward to Scotland, and it
shall go hard but that I hold out Glenvarloch Castle against the
owner, by means of the ammunition he has himself furnished. Thou art
ready to serve me?" The scrivener professed the most implicit
obedience.

"Then remember, the hour was past ere payment was tendered--and see
thou hast witnesses of trusty memory to prove that point."

"Tush, my lord, I will do more," said Andrew, reviving--"I will prove
that Lord Glenvarloch's friends threatened, swaggered, and drew swords
on me.--Did your lordship think I was ungrateful enough to have
suffered them to prejudice your lordship, save that they had bare
swords at my throat?"

"Enough said," replied Dalgarno; "you are perfect--mind that you
continue so, as you would avoid my fury. I leave my page below--get
porters, and let them follow me instantly with the gold."

So saying, Lord Dalgarno left the scrivener's habitation.

Skurliewhitter, having dispatched his boy to get porters of trust for
transporting the money, remained alone and in dismay, meditating by
what means he could shake himself free of the vindictive and ferocious
nobleman, who possessed at once a dangerous knowledge of his
character, and the power of exposing him, where exposure would be
ruin. He had indeed acquiesced in the plan, rapidly sketched, for
obtaining possession of the ransomed estate, but his experience
foresaw that this would be impossible; while, on the other hand, he
could not anticipate the various consequences of Lord Dalgarno's
resentment, without fears, from which his sordid soul recoiled. To be
in the power, and subject both to the humours and the extortions of a
spendthrift young lord, just when his industry had shaped out the
means of fortune,--it was the most cruel trick which fate could have
played the incipient usurer.

While the scrivener was in this fit of anxious anticipation, one
knocked at the door of the apartment; and, being desired to enter,
appeared in the coarse riding-cloak of uncut Wiltshire cloth, fastened
by a broad leather belt and brass buckle, which was then generally
worn by graziers and countrymen. Skurliewhitter, believing he saw in
his visitor a country client who might prove profitable, had opened
his mouth to request him to be seated, when the stranger, throwing
back his frieze hood which he had drawn over his face, showed the
scrivener features well imprinted in his recollection, but which he
never saw without a disposition to swoon.

"Is it you?" he said, faintly, as the stranger replaced the hood which
concealed his features.

"Who else should it be?" said his visitor.

"Thou son of parchment, got betwixt the inkhorn
 And the stuff'd process-bag--that mayest call
 The pen thy father, and the ink thy mother,
 The wax thy brother, and the sand thy sister
 And the good pillory thy cousin allied--
 Rise, and do reverence unto me, thy better!"

"Not yet down to the country," said the scrivener, "after every
warning? Do not think your grazier's cloak will bear you out, captain-
-no, nor your scraps of stage-plays."

"Why, what would you have me to do?" said the captain--"Would you have
me starve? If I am to fly, you must eke my wings with a few feathers.
You can spare them, I think."

"You had means already--you have had ten pieces--What is become of
them?"

"Gone," answered Captain Colepepper--"Gone, no matter where--I had a
mind to bite, and I was bitten, that's all--I think my hand shook at
the thought of t'other night's work, for I trowled the doctors like a
very baby."

"And you have lost all, then?--Well, take this and be gone," said the
scrivener.

"What, two poor smelts! Marry, plague of your bounty!--But remember,
you are as deep in as I."

"Not so, by Heaven!" answered the scrivener; "I only thought of easing
the old man of some papers and a trifle of his gold, and you took his
life."

"Were he living," answered Colepepper, "he would rather have lost it
than his money.--But that is not the question, Master Skurliewhitter--
you undid the private bolts of the window when you visited him about
some affairs on the day ere he died--so satisfy yourself, that, if I
am taken, I will not swing alone. Pity Jack Hempsfield is dead, it
spoils the old catch,

'And three merry men, and three merry men,
 And three merry men are we,
 As ever did sing three parts in a string,
 All under the triple tree.'"

"For God's sake, speak lower," said the scrivener; "is this a place or
time to make your midnight catches heard?--But how much will serve
your turn? I tell you I am but ill provided."

"You tell me a lie, then," said the bully--"a most palpable and gross
lie.--How much, d'ye say, will serve my turn? Why, one of these bags
will do for the present."

"I swear to you that these bags of money are not at my disposal."

"Not honestly, perhaps," said the captain, "but that makes little
difference betwixt us."

"I swear to you," continued the scrivener "they are in no way at my
disposal--they have been delivered to me by tale--I am to pay them
over to Lord Dalgarno, whose boy waits for them, and I could not
skelder one piece out of them, without risk of hue and cry."

"Can you not put off the delivery?" said the bravo, his huge hand
still fumbling with one of the bags, as if his fingers longed to close
on it.

"Impossible," said the scrivener, "he sets forward to Scotland to-
morrow."

"Ay!" said the bully, after a moment's thought--"Travels he the north
road with such a charge?"

"He is well accompanied," added the scrivener; "but yet--"

"But yet--but what?" said the bravo.

"Nay, I meant nothing," said the scrivener.

"Thou didst--thou hadst the wind of some good thing," replied
Colepepper; "I saw thee pause like a setting dog. Thou wilt say as
little, and make as sure a sign, as a well-bred spaniel."

"All I meant to say, captain, was, that his servants go by Barnet, and
he himself, with his page, pass through Enfield Chase; and he spoke to
me yesterday of riding a soft pace."

"Aha!--Comest thou to me there, my boy?"

"And of resting"--continued the scrivener,--"resting a space at Camlet
Moat."

"Why, this is better than cock-fighting!" said the captain.

"I see not how it can advantage you, captain," said the scrivener.
"But, however, they cannot ride fast, for his page rides the sumpter-
horse, which carries all that weight," pointing to the money on the
table. "Lord Dalgarno looks sharp to the world's gear."

"That horse will be obliged to those who may ease him of his burden,"
said the bravo; "and egad, he may be met with.--He hath still that
page--that same Lutin--that goblin? Well, the boy hath set game for me
ere now. I will be revenged, too, for I owe him a grudge for an old
score at the ordinary. Let me see--Black Feltham, and Dick Shakebag--
we shall want a fourth--I love to make sure, and the booty will stand
parting, besides what I can bucket them out of. Well, scrivener, lend
me two pieces.--Bravely done--nobly imparted! Give ye good-den." And
wrapping his disguise closer around him, away he went.

When he had left the room, the scrivener wrung his hands, and
exclaimed, "More blood--more blood! I thought to have had done with
it, but this time there was no fault with me--none--and then I shall
have all the advantage. If this ruffian falls, there is truce with his
tugs at my purse-strings; and if Lord Dalgarno dies--as is most
likely, for though as much afraid of cold steel as a debtor of a dun,
this fellow is a deadly shot from behind a bush,--then am I in a
thousand ways safe--safe--safe."

We willingly drop the curtain over him and his reflections.




CHAPTER XXXV


  We are not worst at once--the course of evil
  Begins so slowly, and from such slight source,
  An infant's hand might stem its breach with clay;
  But let the stream get deeper, and philosophy--
  Ay, and religion too--shall strive in vain
  To turn the headlong torrent.
                            _Old Play._

The Templars had been regaled by our friend Richie Moniplies in a
private chamber at Beaujeu's, where he might be considered as good
company; for he had exchanged his serving-man's cloak and jerkin for a
grave yet handsome suit of clothes, in the fashion of the times, but
such as might have befitted an older man than himself. He had
positively declined presenting himself at the ordinary, a point to
which his companions were very desirous to have brought him, for it
will be easily believed that such wags as Lowestoffe and his companion
were not indisposed to a little merriment at the expense of the raw
and pedantic Scotsman; besides the chance of easing him of a few
pieces, of which he appeared to have acquired considerable command.
But not even a succession of measures of sparkling sack, in which the
little brilliant atoms circulated like motes in the sun's rays, had
the least effect on Richie's sense of decorum. He retained the gravity
of a judge, even while he drank like a fish, partly from his own
natural inclination to good liquor, partly in the way of good
fellowship towards his guests. When the wine began to make some
innovation on their heads, Master Lowestoffe, tired, perhaps, of the
humours of Richie, who began to become yet more stoically
contradictory and dogmatical than even in the earlier part of the
entertainment, proposed to his friend to break up their debauch and
join the gamesters.

The drawer was called accordingly, and Richie discharged the reckoning
of the party, with a generous remuneration to the attendants, which
was received with cap and knee, and many assurances of--"Kindly
welcome, gentlemen."

"I grieve we should part so soon, gentlemen," said Richie to his
companions,--"and I would you had cracked another quart ere you went,
or stayed to take some slight matter of supper, and a glass of
Rhenish. I thank you, however, for having graced my poor collation
thus far; and I commend you to fortune, in your own courses, for the
ordinary neither was, is, nor shall be, an element of mine."

"Fare thee well, then," said Lowestoffe, "most sapient and sententious
Master Moniplies. May you soon have another mortgage to redeem, and
may I be there to witness it; and may you play the good fellow, as
heartily as you have done this day."

"Nay, gentlemen, it is merely of your grace to say so--but, if you
would but hear me speak a few words of admonition respecting this
wicked ordinary--"

"Reserve the lesson, most honourable Richie," said Lowestoffe, "until
I have lost all my money," showing, at the same time, a purse
indifferently well provided, "and then the lecture is likely to have
some weight."

"And keep my share of it, Richie," said the other Templar, showing an
almost empty purse, in his turn, "till this be full again, and then I
will promise to hear you with some patience."

"Ay, ay, gallants," said Richie, "the full and the empty gang a' ae
gate, and that is a grey one--but the time will come."

"Nay, it is come already," said Lowestoffe; "they have set out the
hazard table. Since you will peremptorily not go with us, why,
farewell, Richie."

"And farewell, gentlemen," said Richie, and left the house, into which
they had returned.

Moniplies was not many steps from the door, when a person, whom, lost
in his reflections on gaming, ordinaries, and the manners of the age,
he had not observed, and who had been as negligent on his part, ran
full against him; and, when Richie desired to know whether he meant
"ony incivility," replied by a curse on Scotland, and all that
belonged to it. A less round reflection on his country would, at any
time, have provoked Richie, but more especially when he had a double
quart of Canary and better in his pate. He was about to give a very
rough answer, and to second his word by action, when a closer view of
his antagonist changed his purpose.

"You are the vera lad in the warld," said Richie, "whom I most wished
to meet."

"And you," answered the stranger, "or any of your beggarly countrymen,
are the last sight I should ever wish to see. You Scots are ever fair
and false, and an honest man cannot thrive within eyeshot of you."

"As to our poverty, friend," replied Richie, "that is as Heaven
pleases; but touching our falset, I'll prove to you that a Scotsman
bears as leal and true a heart to his friend as ever beat in English
doublet."

"I care not whether he does or not," said the gallant. "Let me go--why
keep you hold of my cloak? Let me go, or I will thrust you into the
kennel."

"I believe I could forgie ye, for you did me a good turn once, in
plucking me out of it," said the Scot.

"Beshrew my fingers, then, if they did so," replied the stranger. "I
would your whole country lay there, along with you; and Heaven's curse
blight the hand that helped to raise them!--Why do you stop my way?"
he added, fiercely.

"Because it is a bad one, Master Jenkin," said Richie. "Nay, never
start about it, man--you see you are known. Alack-a-day! that an
honest man's son should live to start at hearing himself called by his
own name!" Jenkin struck his brow violently with his clenched fist.

"Come, come," said Richie, "this passion availeth nothing. Tell me
what gate go you?"

"To the devil!" answered Jin Vin.

"That is a black gate, if you speak according to the letter," answered
Richie; "but if metaphorically, there are worse places in this great
city than the Devil Tavern; and I care not if I go thither with you,
and bestow a pottle of burnt sack on you--it will correct the
crudities of my stomach, and form a gentle preparative for the leg of
a cold pullet."

"I pray you, in good fashion, to let me go," said Jenkin. "You may
mean me kindly, and I wish you to have no wrong at my hand; but I am
in the humour to be dangerous to myself, or any one."

"I will abide the risk," said the Scot, "if you will but come with me;
and here is a place convenient, a howff nearer than the Devil, whilk
is but an ill-omened drouthy name for a tavern. This other of the
Saint Andrew is a quiet place, where I have ta'en my whetter now and
then, when I lodged in the neighbourhood of the Temple with Lord
Glenvarloch.--What the deil's the matter wi' the man, garr'd him gie
sic a spang as that, and almaist brought himself and me on the
causeway?"

"Do not name that false Scot's name to me," said Jin Vin, "if you
would not have me go mad!--I was happy before I saw him--he has been
the cause of all the ill that has befallen me--he has made a knave and
a madman of me!"

"If you are a knave," said Richie, "you have met an officer--if you
are daft, you have met a keeper; but a gentle officer and a kind
keeper. Look you, my gude friend, there has been twenty things said
about this same lord, in which there is no more truth than in the
leasings of Mahound. The warst they can say of him is, that he is not
always so amenable to good advice as I would pray him, you, and every
young man to be. Come wi' me--just come ye wi' me; and, if a little
spell of siller and a great deal of excellent counsel can relieve your
occasions, all I can say is, you have had the luck to meet one capable
of giving you both, and maist willing to bestow them."

The pertinacity of the Scot prevailed over the sullenness of Vincent,
who was indeed in a state of agitation and incapacity to think for
himself, which led him to yield the more readily to the suggestions of
another. He suffered himself to be dragged into the small tavern which
Richie recommended, and where they soon found themselves seated in a
snug niche, with a reeking pottle of burnt sack, and a paper of sugar
betwixt them. Pipes and tobacco were also provided, but were only used
by Richie, who had adopted the custom of late, as adding considerably
to the gravity and importance of his manner, and affording, as it
were, a bland and pleasant accompaniment to the words of wisdom which
flowed from his tongue. After they had filled their glasses and drank
them in silence, Richie repeated the question, whither his guest was
going when they met so fortunately.

"I told you," said Jenkin, "I was going to destruction--I mean to the
gaming-house. I am resolved to hazard these two or three pieces, to
get as much as will pay for a passage with Captain Sharker, whose ship
lies at Gravesend, bound for America--and so Eastward, ho!--I met one
devil in the way already, who would have tempted me from my purpose,
but I spurned him from me--you may be another for what I know.--What
degree of damnation do you propose for me," he added wildly, "and what
is the price of it?"

"I would have you to know," answered Richie, "that I deal in no such
commodities, whether as buyer or seller. But if you will tell me
honestly the cause of your distress, I will do what is in my power to
help you out of it,--not being, however, prodigal of promises, until I
know the case; as a learned physician only gives advice when he has
observed the diagnostics."

"No one has any thing to do with my affairs," said the poor lad; and
folding his arms on the table, he laid his head upon them, with the
sullen dejection of the overburdened lama, when it throws itself down
to die in desperation.

Richard Moniplies, like most folk who have a good opinion of
themselves, was fond of the task of consolation, which at once
displayed his superiority, (for the consoler is necessarily, for the
time at least, superior to the afflicted person,) and indulged his
love of talking. He inflicted on the poor penitenta harangue of
pitiless length, stuffed full of the usual topics of the mutability of
human affairs--the eminent advantages of patience under affliction--
the folly of grieving for what hath no remedy--the necessity of taking
more care for the future, and some gentle rebukes on account of the
past, which acid he threw in to assist in subduing the patient's
obstinacy, as Hannibal used vinegar in cutting his way through rocks.
It was not in human nature to endure this flood of commonplace
eloquence in silence; and Jin Vin, whether desirous of stopping the
flow of words--crammed thus into his ear, "against the stomach of his
sense," or whether confiding in Richie's protestations of friendship,
which the wretched, says Fielding, are ever so ready to believe, or
whether merely to give his sorrows vent in words, raised his head, and
turning his red and swollen eyes to Richie--

"Cocksbones, man, only hold thy tongue, and thou shall know all about
it,--and then all I ask of thee is to shake hands and part.--This
Margaret Ramsay,--you have seen her, man?"

"Once," said Richie, "once, at Master George Heriot's in Lombard
Street--I was in the room when they dined."

"Ay, you helped to shift their trenchers, I remember," said Jin Vin.
"Well, that same pretty girl--and I will uphold her the prettiest
betwixt Paul's and the Bar--she is to be wedded to your Lord
Glenvarloch, with a pestilence on him!"

"That is impossible," said Richie; "it is raving nonsense, man--they
make April gouks of you cockneys every month in the year--The Lord
Glenvarloch marry the daughter of a Lonnon mechanic! I would as soon
believe the great Prester John would marry the daughter of a Jew
packman."

"Hark ye, brother," said Jin Vin, "I will allow no one to speak
disregardfully of the city, for all I am in trouble."

"I crave your pardon, man--I meant no offence," said Richie; "but as
to the marriage, it is a thing simply impossible."

"It is a thing that will take place, though, for the Duke and the
Prince, and all of them, have a finger in it; and especially the old
fool of a king, that makes her out to be some great woman in her own
country, as all the Scots pretend to be, you know."

"Master Vincent, but that you are under affliction," said the
consoler, offended on his part, "I would hear no national
reflections."

The afflicted youth apologised in his turns, but asserted, "it
 was true that the king said Peg-a-Ramsay was some far-off sort of
noblewoman; and that he had taken a great interest in the match, and
had run about like an old gander, cackling about Peggie ever since he
had seen her in hose and doublet--and no wonder," added poor Vin, with
a deep sigh.

"This may be all true," said Richie, "though it sounds strange in my
ears; but, man, you should not speak evil of dignities---Curse not the
king, Jenkin; not even in thy bed-chamber--stone walls have ears--no
one has a right to know better than I."

"I do not curse the foolish old man," said Jenkin; "but I would have
them carry things a peg lower.--If they were to see on a plain field
thirty thousand such pikes as I have seen in the artillery gardens, it
would not be their long-haired courtiers would help them, I trow."
[Footnote: Clarendon remarks, that the importance of the military
exercise of the citizens was severely felt by the cavaliers during the
civil war, notwithstanding the ridicule that had been showered upon it
by the dramatic poets of the day. Nothing less than habitual practice
could, at the battle of Newbury and elsewhere, have enabled the
Londoners to keep their ranks as pikemen, in spite of the repeated
charge of the fiery Prince Rupert and his gallant cavaliers.]

"Hout tout, man," said Richie, "mind where the Stewarts come frae, and
never think they would want spears or claymores either; but leaving
sic matters, whilk are perilous to speak on, I say once more, what is
your concern in all this matter?"

"What is it?" said Jenkin; "why, have I not fixed on Peg-a-Ramsay to
be my true love, from the day I came to her old father's shop? and
have I not carried her pattens and her chopines for three years, and
borne her prayer-book to church, and brushed the cushion for her to
kneel down upon, and did she ever say me nay?"

"I see no cause she had," said Richie, "if the like of such small
services were all that ye proffered. Ah, man! there are few--very few,
either of fools or of wise men, ken how to guide a woman."

"Why, did I not serve her at the risk of my freedom, and very nigh at
the risk of my neck? Did she not--no, it was not her neither, but that
accursed beldam whom she caused to work upon me--persuade me like a
fool to turn myself into a waterman to help my lord, and a plague to
him, down to Scotland? and instead of going peaceably down to the ship
at Gravesend, did not he rant and bully, and show his pistols, and
make me land him at Greenwich, where he played some swaggering pranks,
that helped both him and me into the Tower?"

"Aha!" said Richie, throwing more than his usual wisdom into his
looks, "so you were the green-jacketed waterman that rowed Lord
Glenvarloch down the river?"