But Jock did not tell the whole history of one of his own poaching affrays along with the tailors.
Hugh ensconced Jock in the shrubbery until he ascertained from one of the servants that his lordship had gone out to walk in the grounds, that the ladies were taking an airing in the carriage, and that it was quite possible to get a peep into the great hall and the public rooms opening from it, without being discovered. As Hugh, accompanied by Jock, crept almost noiselessly along the passages, he directed with underbreath Jock's attention to the noble apartments, the arms and suits of mail hung round the wall of the great entrance-hall, the stags' heads, the stuffed birds, and one or two fine paintings of boar-hunts. But when the drawing-room door was opened, and there flashed upon Jock's eyes all the splendour of colour reflected from large mirrors, in which he saw, for the first time, his own odd figure from crown to toe, making him start back as if he had seen a ghost, and when through the windows he beheld all the beauty of flowers that filled the parterres, dotted with jets d'eaux, white statues and urns, and surrounded by bowery foliage, a vision presented itself which was as new to him as if he had passed into Eden from the lodgings of Mrs. Craigie.
He did not speak a word, but only remarked it was "nae doubt unco braw, and wad hae cost a heap o' siller". But, as they were retreating, suddenly the inner door of the hall opened, and his lordship stood before them!
"Heeven be aboot us!" ejaculated Spence, and in a lower voice added, "Dune for,--dune for life!" He looked around him, as if for some means of concealing himself, but in vain. The door by which they had entered was closed. There was no mode of exit. Jock, seeing only a plain-looking little gentleman in a Glengarry bonnet and tweed suit, never imagined that this could be a lord, and was accordingly quite composed. Spence, with his eyes fixed on the ground and his face flushed to the roots of his hair, seemed speechless.
His lordship was a slight-built man, of about forty, with pleasing hazel eyes and large moustache. He had retired from the army, and was much liked for his frank manner and good humour. Seeing his keeper in such perplexity, accompanied by so disreputable-looking a person, he said, "Hollo, Spence! whom have you got here? I hope not a poacher, eh?"
"I humbly beg your lordship's pardon; but, my lord, the fac' is----" stammered Hugh.
"Is that his lordship?" whispered Jock.
"Haud yer tongue!" replied Hugh in an undertone of intense vehemence. Then addressing his lordship, he said, "He's no poacher, my lord; no, no, but only----"
"Oh! an acquaintance, I suppose."
"No' that either, no' that either," interrupted Hugh, as his dignity was frying on account of his companion, whom he wished a hundred miles away, "but an acqua'ntance o' an acqua'ntance o' my faither's lang syne--a maist respectable man--Sergeant Mercer, in Drumsylie, and I took the leeberty, thinking yer lordship was oot, to----"