“If I had known you were such a moss-trooper you should have tasted longer of the Bass,” says he.
“Speaking of which, my lord, I return your letter.” And I gave him the enclosure in the counterfeit hand.
“There was the cover also with the seal,” said he.
“I have it not,” said I. “It bore not even an address, and could not compromise a cat. The second enclosure I have, and with your permission, I desire to keep it.”
I thought he winced a little, but he said nothing to the point. “To-morrow,” he resumed, “our business here is to be finished, and I proceed by Glasgow. I would be very glad to have you of my party, Mr. David.”
“My lord ...” I began.
“I do not deny it will be of service to me,” he interrupted. “I desire even that, when we shall come to Edinburgh, you should alight at my house. You have very warm friends in the Miss Grants, who will be overjoyed to have you to themselves. If you think I have been of use to you, you can thus easily repay me, and so far from losing, may reap some advantage by the way. It is not every strange young man who is presented in society by the King’s Advocate.”
Often enough already (in our brief relations) this gentleman had caused my head to spin; no doubt but what for a moment he did so again now. Here was the old fiction still maintained of my particular favour with his daughters, one of whom had been so good as laugh at me, while the other two had scarce deigned to remark the fact of my existence. And now I was to ride with my lord to Glasgow; I was to dwell with him in Edinburgh; I was to be brought into society under his protection! That he should have so much good-nature as to forgive me was surprising enough; that he could wish to take me up and serve me seemed impossible; and I began to seek for some ulterior meaning. One was plain. If I became his guest, repentance was excluded; I could never think better of my present design and bring any action. And besides, would not my presence in his house draw out the whole pungency of the memorial? For that complaint could not be very seriously regarded, if the person chiefly injured was the guest of the official most incriminated. As I thought upon this, I could not quite refrain from smiling.
“This is in the nature of a countercheck to the memorial?” said I.
“You are cunning, Mr. David,” said he, “and you do not wholly guess wrong; the fact will be of use to me in my defence. Perhaps, however, you underrate my friendly sentiments, which are perfectly genuine. I have a respect for you, Mr. David, mingled with awe,” says he, smiling.