‘I dinna ken; the Deuke’s no that fond o’ led farms, and he canna bide to put away the auld tenantry; and then I wadna like mysell to gang about whistling [Footnote: See Note 7.] and raising the rent on my neighbours.’
‘What, not upon thy neighbour at Dawston--Devilstone--how d ‘ye call the place?’
‘What, on Jock o’ Dawston? hout na. He’s a camsteary chield, and fasheous about marches, and we’ve had some bits o’ splores thegither; but deil o’meif I wad wrang Jock o’ Dawston neither.’
‘Thou’rt an honest fellow,’ said the Lawyer; ‘get thee to bed. Thou wilt sleep sounder, I warrant thee, than many a man that throws off an embroidered coat and puts on a laced nightcap. Colonel, I see you are busy with our enfant trouve. But Barnes must give me a summons of wakening at seven to-morrow morning, for my servant’s a sleepy-headed fellow; and I daresay my clerk Driver has had Clarence’s fate, and is drowned by this time in a butt of your ale; for Mrs. Allan promised to make him comfortable, and she’ll soon discover what he expects from that engagement. Good-night, Colonel; good-night, Dominie Sampson; good-night, Dinmont the Downright; good-night, last of all, to the new-found representative of the Bertrams, and the Mac-Dingawaies, the Knarths, the Arths, the Godfreys, the Dennises, and the Rolands, and, last and dearest title, heir of tailzie and provision of the lands and barony of Ellangowan, under the settlement of Lewis Bertram, Esq., whose representative you are.’
And so saying, the old gentleman took his candle and left the room; and the company dispersed, after the Dominie had once more hugged and embraced his ‘little Harry Bertram,’ as he continued to call the young soldier of six feet high.
CHAPTER XXII
My imagination
Carries no favour in it but Bertram’s;
I am undone, there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away.
--All’s Well that Ends Well.
My imagination
Carries no favour in it but Bertram’s;
I am undone, there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away.
--All’s Well that Ends Well.
At the hour which he had appointed the preceding evening the indefatigable lawyer was seated by a good fire and a pair of wax candles, with a velvet cap on his head and a quilted silk nightgown on his person, busy arranging his memoranda of proofs and indications concerning the murder of Frank Kennedy. An express had also been despatched to Mr. Mac-Morlan, requesting his attendance at Woodbourne as soon as possible on business of importance. Dinmont, fatigued with the events of the evening before, and finding the accommodations of Woodbourne much preferable to those of Mac-Guffog, was in no hurry to rise. The impatience of Bertram might have put him earlier in motion, but Colonel Mannering had intimated an intention to visit him in his apartment in the morning, and he did not choose to leave it. Before this interview he had dressed himself, Barnes having, by his master’s orders, supplied him with every accommodation of linen, etc., and now anxiously waited the promised visit of his landlord.