"No, by my faith!"
"Then your learned Lordship forgets one notable point of our old Scottish law, by which a guest becomes the bounden ally of his host."
"True; but only if loons come against him wi' harness on—boden in effeir o' weir, as the Acts have it."
"As the chase after Lilian may be a hot one, omit not to spread most industriously that I am gone to the west, to England, to the devil, or any where, to put them off the right scent—ha, ha! while I am luxuriating in the smiles of Venus in the recesses of my snug old house over the hill there. Dost hear me? By Jove, he's very drunk. Fetch me a tass of brandy and burnt sugar, Juden."
It was brought immediately, in one of those long glasses then made at the citadel of Leith. It set Clermistonlee's impatient blood on fire.
"Another for thyself, Juden, and then to horse, and away. Your servant, gossip Mersington: if unfortunate, you will see me in the course of to-morrow; if otherwise, the devil knows when. Marriage and hanging go by destiny—so do all other things—with a hey lilleu and a how lo lan."
"Aye-aye, awa ye neer-do-well—ye deil's buckie—I'll stay and keep the terrier company. The sack is glorious—the English port auld as the mirk Monanday a' sixteen hunder and fifty-twa—a-clear case o' sorcery, your Lordship—o' dark dealing wi' the great enemy o' mankind—hee-hee!—and woman kind baith."
His head sank forward on his wine-bespattered cravat, and the senior senator of the College of Justice fell fast asleep.