'Cigars if you will,' said Clavering; 'but no champagne; dem it, no—I shall drink no more to-night of anything stronger than Father Adam's pale ale, while playing with you,' and just as they all left the dining-room by one door, I heard the voice of Sir Horace in communication with Snaggs, approaching it by another.
'To-morrow will decide the affair,' said Sir Horace, pausing with his fingers on the crystal door-handle.
'To-morrow or the day after, at latest, my dear sir,' responded the bland voice of Snaggs.
'Of course I am deuced sorry for the old woman, and all that sort of thing—for she must be very unhappy; but we have a great duty to perform—a great duty to society, Mr. Snaggs, and old women must not stand in the way of improvement.'
'To be sure, my dear Sir Horace; "every age," says the divine Blair, will prove burdensome to those who have no fund of happiness in their breast—and as for the young desperado her son, nothing whatever can be made of him.'
'Of course not; his head is filled with such quaint ideas and old Highland stuff, unsuited to modern times, habits, and usages, that he is a mere wild colt, and twice I have been told, pulled out of his stocking,—what do you call it?'
'Skene Dhu, or Black Knife, my dear sir,' suggested Mr. Snaggs.
'Ah yea—a skin doo, upon you, sir. I know not why these Highland fellows are allowed to bristle about with their daggers and skenes, when there are laws passed against the wearing of arms. But the truth is, the sooner that this young fellow and his people are sent off to America by the Sutherland, under Captain Sellars, the better. There are some fine swamps to drain, moors to cultivate, and woods to cut down in the Cunadas; and as for that great ruffian Cullum Dhu, who nearly murdered poor Toodles the other day—dem the fellow, I'll have him transported! Adversity teaches these fierce spirits no lesson.'
'True, my dear Sir Horace,' chimed in the moralist; '"adversity," exclaims the divine Blair, "how blunt are all the arrows of thy quiver, compared with those of guilt!"'
'Dem Blair—I am quite sick of him, too; but let us have a glass of Moselle, and then we'll join the ladies in the drawing-room. You here, Mr. Mac Innon!' he exclaimed, with angry surprise on seeing me; 'how do ye do, sir,' he added, with a dark countenance; 'my friend Mr. Snaggs and I have just closed a long conversation about you.'