"Hath she no? By my faith, 'tis the toun gossip," said Juden, who, notwithstanding his devotion to his master, thought there could be no harm in rousing his fierce spirit to the utmost. "Mony a summer even in the balmy gloaming have they been seen in the King's Park, where none but lovers gang, as your lordship kens, for there yoursel and bonny Lady Alison——"
"Silence!" said Clermistonlee, through his clenched teeth; "always these memories—ever reminding me of her whom I would wish to forget for ever, as the dead should be forgotten. But the park and the hill!—Gadzooks, varlet! I believe thou liest, for Fenton hath not known her many months, I believe. I hope, too, the girl is over-modest thus to exhibit herself. Come on; by all the devils, come on!" and, giddy from passion and the fumes of his last night's wine, he turned abruptly, and made a circuit of the Parliament Square. Though it was false that Lilian had ever appeared on those solitary promenades, which then were the usual resort of avowed lovers (for such was the custom of the time), and though Clermistonlee could scarcely believe the tidings of Juden, they served the end that worthy aimed at, and became an additional gall to his spirit, and whet to his ferocity.
The idea of a young lady of family and fashion appearing with her lover in such a place as the King's Park, may excite a smile; now it is the resort of the artisan, the student, and the sewing-girl; but in those days it was the common place for afternoon promenades and assignations, ere the phases of society among the middle and upper classes of the Scottish capital underwent so complete a change.
"My lord," whispered Juden, approaching his master sidelong, "what think ye o' keeping the croon o' the causeway this morning?"
"Much as you love me, sirrah, you are ever prompting me to blows and danger, and then seem wretched until I am safe again. Gadso! dost think, thou gomeral, that I am in humour to indulge the quarrelsome mood of every fool who deems the length of his rapier and pedigree, entitle him to maintain it for himself? Besides, the fashion went out with our fathers, and he who would now march down the street in defiance of all mankind, would be deemed a blustering swashbuckler, and pitiful fanfaron, worthy only of a sound cudgelling. No, no; for one alone must I keep my rapier bright, and by Jove! yonder he comes—she is with him, too—she leans on his arm—he talks, and she smiles—D——nation! How happy they seem!—and this is the minx who rejected my love, and despised my coronet. Follow me, Juden, for now I will show thee a brawl such as this street hath not witnessed, since old Crauford and the covenanting major fought with sword and dasher from the Bowhead to the Tronbeam!"
Swelling with fury, he advanced to the entrance of the Luckenbooths, and Juden, like a true Scottish retainer, felt his wrath rising in proportion with that of his leader. The narrow pile of buildings they traversed extended the whole length of the cathedral and the Tolbooth which adjoined it; dividing that part of the high-street into two narrow alleys. Expedience, the increasing population, and the political relations of the country with England, which required every citizen to be within the walls, can alone account for this singular erection of one street in the centre of another.
Some of its tall ghostly edifices were very old and picturesque, having modern outshoots supported by grotesque oak pillars forming arcades below; under these were the Laigh cellars (i.e., low shops), where the merchants exhibited their goods, and called public attention to them as noisily and importunately as the shopmen of the Bridges did until 1818, and those of St. Mary's Wynd do at the present day. Between the deep gothic buttresses of the cathedral were clustered a multitude of little shops called the Craimes, similar to those which still disfigure the magnificent façades of Antwerp and other great continental churches. This was the centre of the city, the place of bustle, crowd, and business, dust in summer, mud in winter, and noise at all times.
Quite unconscious of the fiery spirit that followed him, Walter Fenton led Lilian slowly through this narrow and crowded street, where they stopped often to survey the various things displayed under the piazza, and laughed and chatted gaily, for the young lady was very well pleased with her cavalier officer, who, she thought, never looked so handsome in his rich military dress and tall ostrich feather.
There was something very pretty, racy, and piquant in the beauty and attire of Lilian, whose hood of purple velvet, tied with a string of little Scots' pearls, permitted her fair hair to fall in front, dressed à la negligence. Her ruff was starched as stiff as Bristol board, and her long rustling skirt of crimson silk stuck out like a pyramid all round, from the velvet boddice which was laced round a little bust, to Walter's eyes, the most charming in the world. Her gloves were highly perfumed, and so was all her dress; altogether the young lady of Bruntisfield was very charming; everybody knew her, smiled on her, and made way with that native politeness which, alas! is no longer characteristic of the Lowland Scots. A lame old liveryman who had ridden in Sir Archibald's troop, limped behind as their esquire and attendant.
"What are ye boune for buying the day, my winsome lady?" said a buirdly vender of groceries; "what are ye buying? Plumedames sixpence the pound—the new herb wise folk ca' tea, and fules ca' poison, only fifty English shillings the pound—oranges, nutmegs, and lemons frae the land o' the idolatrous Portugales—Gascony, Muscadel, and Margaux, the wines o' the neer-do-weel French—aughteen pence the Scots quart—what are ye for buying, madam?"