"Aye, as well as you, father abbot, who are the keeper of that pretty burden, his conscience. I have seen, yea, and supped with, Robert, duke of Albany."
"Hush!" said the abbot, glancing at his chaunter.
"Ah—'tis your turn to say hush now."
"You have seen him—this poor outlawed prince?"
"Yes, and spent an evening with him—an interesting, if not a jovial one, certainly; and in his cups, he unfolded some very pretty schemes, concerning which, I shall be silent, until I tread again the streets of Edinburgh."
"Oh, be wary, kinsman—be wary!" said the abbot, in a voice that betrayed increasing alarm.
"The duke modestly asked me to aid in a little plot against my own life, and made me several fair offers to lure me to his service against the king."
"Offers, of what?"
"Lands and titles."
"He is liberal, as that Fell Spirit, who took our Lord unto the mountain top, and offered Him cities and empires, when he had not an inch of land to give—not even the mud that adhered to his cloven hoof. Oh, that I were now at Rome!"