"The devil! that fellow is a born gomeral, like his uncle, and will spoil all."
"Jock's gey gleg at the uptak', and mair kens-peckle than ye think. My certie, my Lord, there are mair fules in the world than Jock, puir man—fules that canna keep their fingers out of the fire."
"Silence, or I will certainly beat thee. When the Napiers' chairs are summoned, you will immediately bear off that containing the young lady Lilian, without the delay of a moment."
"No to Bruntisfield, I warrant!" rejoined Juden, with a bright leer of intelligence.
"'Sdeath no—to the Place of Drumsheugh."
"Ha! ha! ha! My certie, gif this plot succeeds, there will be a braw clamjamfray in the toun the morn! But I hope the business will be owre in time to let me be at the tar-barrelling. 'Twill be a braw sight. O that it were Lucky Elshender's! then I might ride up Meg, puir beastie, to see hersel revenged for that weary fit o' the wheez-lock——"
"Silence, addlepate. I go to Beatrix Gilruth. Wo to thee, if one tittle of my injunctions be forgotten."
Juden bowed with a tipsy air of respect, and withdrew, while Lord Clermistonlee rolled his furred rocquelaure about him, and, stepping through the postern gate, issued into the Potter's Row, and hurried away at a quick pace.
"Good even, my Lord," said Douglas, looking scornfully after him. "If I mar not your precious plot to-night, may I never march more!"
He sprang up the stair, and, forgetful of the penance his playful mistress had assigned him, sought an opportunity of communicating to Lady Grisel or to Walter Fenton this new plot of Clermistonlee, but none occurred. The former was too deeply engaged with General Dalyel in the intricacies of ombre or primero, and the mode of impaling among the Tartars, and the latter in the more delightful occupation of squiring Lilian from room to room, or exchanging the hand-in-hand mazes of the merry couranto for a moonlight promenade on the flowery terraces of the garden.