“We are neighbours, my lord, and are just made known to each other. Now, I know enough of the dear North, to be well aware that Scottish neighbours must be either dear friends or deadly enemies—must either walk hand-in-hand, or stand sword-point to sword-point; so I choose the hand-in-hand, unless you should reject my proffer.”
“How were it possible, my lord,” said Lord Glenvarloch, “to refuse what is offered so frankly, even if your father had not been a second father to me?”—And, as he took Lord Dalgarno's hand, he added—“I have, I think, lost no time, since, during one day's attendance at Court, I have made a kind friend and a powerful enemy.”
“The friend thanks you,” replied Lord Dalgarno, “for your just opinion; but, my dear Glenvarloch—or rather, for titles are too formal between us of the better file—what is your Christian name?”
“Nigel,” replied Lord Glenvarloch.
“Then we will be Nigel and Malcolm to each other,” said his visitor, “and my lord to the plebeian world around us. But I was about to ask you whom you suppose your enemy?”
“No less than the all-powerful favourite, the great Duke of Buckingham.”
“You dream! What could possess you with such an opinion?” said Dalgarno.
“He told me so himself,” replied Glenvarloch; “and, in so doing, dealt frankly and honourably with me.”
“O, you know him not yet,” said his companion; “the duke is moulded of an hundred noble and fiery qualities, that prompt him, like a generous horse, to spring aside in impatience at the least obstacle to his forward course. But he means not what he says in such passing heats—I can do more with him, I thank Heaven, than most who are around him; you shall go visit him with me, and you will see how you shall be received.”
“I told you, my lord,” said Glenvarloch firmly, and with some haughtiness, “the Duke of Buckingham, without the least offence, declared himself my enemy in the face of the Court; and he shall retract that aggression as publicly as it was given, ere I will make the slightest advance towards him.”