“Sir Knight,” said he, “wilt thou vouchsafe to pardon me, a stranger, and deign to tell me whether thou canst direct me to the lodging of Sir Walter Stewart of Stradawn?”
“Surely I have heard that voice before,” said the knight, without replying to the question.
“Sir Walter!—My father!” exclaimed the other in great surprise.
“What!” exclaimed Sir Walter, in no less astonishment, and in any thing but a gracious tone, “Charley Stewart! In the name of all that is wonderful what hath brought thee to Edinburgh?—This is not well. Methought I had arranged all things to thy heart’s content, for thy proper employment in thine own native district. But I forget how time flies. Doubtless ere this thou art as learned in thine art, and in the use of the goose, needles, shears, and bodkin, as the great and accomplished Mr. Jonathan Junkins himself.”
“I crave your pardon, Sir Knight,” replied Charley. “Ill as the spirit of the Stewart that is within me might brook such mean drudgery, I struggled hard to break it into the destiny which thou hadst been pleased to assign me. But the rude caitiff churls that worked in Junkins’ shop, and some of the boorish neighbours too, presuming on my youth, fastened on me the offensive nickname of Tàillear-crubach, or the lame tailor. This I could not bear; and after having well pummelled some dozen or so of them, one after the other, I deemed it as well to secure peace for the future, by giving up all just claim to so ignominious a title.”
“By saint Michael, my boy,” cried Sir Walter, cordially taking Charley’s hand; “I cannot say but thou didst well. What a strapping burly chield thou hast grown! But what hast thou been doing with thyself then, since thou gavest up tailoring?”
“I have learned to ride, and to use a sword and a lance indifferent well,” said Charley.
“Bravo!” cried Sir Walter. “By the Rood, thou art mine own very flesh and blood! Trust me, had I guessed that thou wert made of such metal, I should never have thought of tying thee to a tailor’s board, I promise thee. Would I had known this sooner! But now!—How fares it with thy mother, boy?”
“Well, Sir Walter,” replied Charley with a deep sigh. “She was well when I last saw her.”
“Would that I had sooner known thy merits, Charley!” said Sir Walter, with a depth of feeling which he had not yet displayed. “I might then have——But now I fear I am too far involved with another——The fates have been cruelly against thee, boy.”