"I say to my refined taste," continued Hob testily, "in the grace and delicacy of this northern nymph."
"And I own to thee, Hob of Ormiston, my true vassal and most trusted friend, that all my old passion is revived in full force, and that I love her as I never loved"——
"Even Jane of Huntly," said Black Hob, maliciously closing the sentence.
"Under favour, as thou lovest me, Hob," said the noble with a frown, "say no more of her, just now at least."
"Ha! ha! after seeing the beauties of the Tournelles, of Versailles, and even our own Holyrood, thou art seriously smitten by this little Norwegian, eh?"
"My whole heart and soul are hers," said the Earl in a voice that was low, but full of passion.
"Now may the great devil burn me!" cried Ormiston, as a horse-laugh convulsed his bulky figure. "I think 'tis the twentieth time thy heart hath been disposed of in the same fashion, and I do not think that any damsel found herself much enriched by the possession thereof. As for thy soul, that being as I believe gifted already"——
"Harkee, Hob, be not insolent, for our swords are lying at hand.... Oh yes! from the first moment I met this fair girl at Copenhagen, a mysterious sympathy drew my heart instinctively towards her; and not until she left the court of Frederick did I find the full depth of my passion."
"Substitute Holyrood for Copenhagen," continued Hob in the same gibing tone, "and this will be almost word for word what I once heard thee whisper to winsome Jeanie Gordon in the long gallery."
"Damnation, varlet! thou wilt drive me mad," cried the Earl, kicking his trunk-hose to the farthest end of the chamber; for the spiced ale of Van Dribbel was mounting fast into his brain. "How dared your curiosity presume so far? But I care not telling thee, that I love her a thousand times more than Huntly's sickly sister, whom perhaps I may never see again."