“I am bewitched with the rogue’s company. If the rascal has not
given me medicines to make me love him, I’ll be hanged; it could
not be else. I have drunk medicines.”
Second Part of Henry IV.
Regular for a fortnight were the inquiries of the Antiquary at the veteran Caxon, whether he had heard what Mr. Lovel was about; and as regular were Caxon’s answers, “that the town could learn naething about him whatever, except that he had received anither muckle letter or twa frae the south, and that he was never seen on the plainstanes at a’.”
“How does he live, Caxon?”
“Ou, Mrs. Hadoway just dresses him a beefsteak or a muttonchop, or makes him some Friar’s chicken, or just what she likes hersell, and he eats it in the little red parlour off his bedroom. She canna get him to say that he likes ae thing better than anither; and she makes him tea in a morning, and he settles honourably wi’ her every week.”
“But does he never stir abroad?”
“He has clean gi’en up walking, and he sits a’ day in his room reading or writing; a hantle letters he has written, but he wadna put them into our post-house, though Mrs. Hadoway offered to carry them hersell, but sent them a’ under ae cover to the sheriff; and it’s Mrs. Mailsetter’s belief, that the sheriff sent his groom to put them into the post-office at Tannonburgh; it’s my puir thought, that he jaloused their looking into his letters at Fairport; and weel had he need, for my puir daughter Jenny”—
“Tut, don’t plague me with your womankind, Caxon. About this poor young lad.—Does he write nothing but letters?”
“Ou, ay—hale sheets o’ other things, Mrs. Hadoway says. She wishes muckle he could be gotten to take a walk; she thinks he’s but looking very puirly, and his appetite’s clean gane; but he’ll no hear o’ ganging ower the door-stane—him that used to walk sae muckle too.”
“That’s wrong—I have a guess what he’s busy about; but he must not work too hard neither. I’ll go and see him this very day—he’s deep, doubtless, in the Caledoniad.”
Having formed this manful resolution, Mr. Oldbuck equipped himself for the expedition with his thick walking-shoes and gold-headed cane, muttering the while the words of Falstaff which we have chosen for the motto of this CHAPTER; for the Antiquary was himself rather surprised at the degree of attachment which he could not but acknowledge be entertained for this stranger. The riddle was notwithstanding easily solved. Lovel had many attractive qualities, but he won our Antiquary’s heart by being on most occasions an excellent listener.