“I'm not saying that.”
“But do you really think a claim based upon a family Bible and a family likeness a subject for serious consideration?”
“I'm not saying THAT either, laddie.”
“Perhaps he has confided to you more fully than he has to me, or possibly you yourself knew something in corroboration of his facts.”
His companion had evidently no desire to be communicative. But the consul had heard enough to feel that he was justified in leaving the matter in his hands. He had given him fair warning. Yet, nevertheless, he would be even more explicit.
“I do not know,” he began, “whether this young McHulish confided to you his great reliance upon some peculiar effect of his presence among the tenants, and of establishing his claim to the property by exciting the enthusiasm of the clan. It certainly struck me that he had some rather exaggerated ideas, borrowed, perhaps, from romances he'd read, like Don Quixote his books of chivalry. He seems to believe in the existence of a clan loyalty, and the actual survival of old feudal instincts and of old feudal methods in the Highlands. He appears to look upon himself as a kind of local Prince Charlie, and, by Jove! I've an idea he's almost as crazy.”
“And why should he na believe in his own kith and kin?” said Sir James, quickly, with a sudden ring in his voice, and a dialectical freedom quite distinct from his former deliberate and cautious utterance. “The McHulishes were chieftains before America was discovered, and many's the time they overran the border before they went as far as that. If there's anything in blood and loyalty, it would be strange if they did na respond. And I can tell ye, ma frien', there's more in the Hielands than any 'romancer,' as ye call them,—ay, even Scott hissel', and he was but an Edinboro' man,—ever dreamed of. Don't fash yoursel' about that. And you and me'll not agree about Prince Charlie. Some day I'll tell ye, ma frien', mair aboot that bonnie laddie than ye'll gather from your partisan historians. Until then ye'll be wise when ye'll be talking to Scotchmen not to be expressing your Southern prejudices.”
Intensely surprised and amused at this sudden outbreak of enthusiasm on the part of the usually cautious lawyer, the consul could not refrain from accenting it by a marked return to practical business.
“I shall be delighted to learn more about Prince Charlie,” he said, smiling, “but just now his prototype—if you'll allow me to call him so—is a nearer topic, and for the present, at least until he assume his new titles and dignities, has a right to claim my protection, and I am responsible for him as an American citizen. Now, my dear friend, is there really any property, land, or title of any importance involved in his claim, and what and where, in Heaven's name, is it? For I assure you I know nothing practical about it, and cannot make head or tail of it.”
Sir James resumed his slow serenity, and gathered up his gloves. “Ay, there's a great deer-forest in Ballochbrinkie, and there's part of Loch Phillibeg in Cairngormshire, and there's Kelpie Island off Moreovershire. Ay, there's enough land when the crofters are cleared off, and the small sheep-tenants evicted. It will be a grand property then.”