“And that is the truth,” said he. “I am fery prave myself, and pold as a lions. But to stand up there—and you ken naething of fence!—the way that you did, I declare it was peyond me. And I am sorry for the plow; though I declare I pelief your own was the elder brother, and my heid still sings with it. And I declare if I had kent what way it wass, I would not put a hand to such a piece of pusiness.”
“That is handsomely said,” I replied, “and I am sure you will not stand up a second time to be the actor for my private enemies.”
“Indeed, no, Palfour,” said he; “and I think I wass used extremely suffeeciently myself to be set up to fecht with an auld wife, or all the same as a bairn whateffer! And I will tell the Master so, and fecht him, by Cot, himself!”
“And if you knew the nature of Mr. Simon’s quarrel with me,” said I, “you would be yet the more affronted to be mingled up with such affairs.”
He swore he could well believe it; that all the Lovats were made of the same meal and the devil was the miller that ground that; then suddenly shaking me by the hand, he vowed I was a pretty enough fellow after all, that it was a thousand pities I had been neglected, and that if he could find the time he would give an eye himself to have me educated.
“You can do me a better service than even what you propose,” said I; and when he had asked its nature—“Come with me to the house of one of my enemies, and testify how I have carried myself this day,” I told him.
“That will be the true service. For though he has sent me a gallant adversary for the first, the thought in Mr. Simon’s mind is merely murder. There will be a second and then a third; and by what you have seen of my cleverness with the cold steel, you can judge for yourself what is like to be the upshot.”
“And I would not like it myself, if I wass no more of a man than what you wass!” he cried. “But I will do you right, Palfour. Lead on!”
If I had walked slowly on the way into that accursed park, my heels were light enough on the way out. They kept time to a very good old air, that is as ancient as the Bible, and the words of it are: “Surely the bitterness of death is past.” I mind that I was extremely thirsty, and had a drink at St. Margaret’s Well on the road down, and the sweetness of that water passed belief. We went through the Sanctuary, up the Canongate, in by the Nether Bow, and straight to Prestongrange’s door, talking as we came, and arranging the details of our affair. The footman owned his master was at home, but declared him engaged with other gentlemen on very private business, and his door forbidden.
“My business is but for three minutes, and it cannot wait,” said I. “You may say it is by no means private, and I shall be even glad to have some witnesses.”