“No dispute shall rise through me, sir—none through me,” said Wildrake; “your exposition sufficeth, sir.—Master Louis Girnigo, son of my Lord Kilsteer, in Gringardenshire, I am your humble slave, sir, and drink your health, in token that I honour you, and all true Scots who draw their Andrew Ferraras on the right side, sir.”
“I’se beholden to you, and thank you, sir,” said the young man, with some haughtiness of manner, which hardly corresponded with his rusticity; “and I wuss your health in a ceevil way.”
Most judicious persons would have here dropped the conversation; but it was one of Wildrake’s marked peculiarities, that he could never let matters stand when they were well. He continued to plague the shy, proud, and awkward lad with his observations. “You speak your national dialect pretty strongly, Master Girnigo,” said he, “but I think not quite the language of the gallants that I have known among the Scottish cavaliers—I knew, for example, some of the Gordons, and others of good repute, who always put an f for wh, as faat for what, fan for when, and the like.”
Albert Lee here interposed, and said that the provinces of Scotland, like those of England, had their different modes of pronunciation.
“You are very right, sir,” said Wildrake. “I reckon myself, now, a pretty good speaker of their cursed jargon—no offence, young gentleman; and yet, when I took a turn with some of Montrose’s folk, in the South Highlands, as they call their beastly wildernesses, (no offence again,) I chanced to be by myself, and to lose my way, when I said to a shepherd-fellow, making my mouth as wide, and my voice as broad as I could, whore am I ganging till?—confound me if the fellow could answer me, unless, indeed, he was sulky, as the bumpkins will be now and then to the gentlemen of the sword.”
This was familiarly spoken, and though partly addressed to Albert, was still more directed to his immediate neighbour, the young Scotsman, who seemed, from bashfulness, or some other reason, rather shy of his intimacy. To one or two personal touches from Wildrake’s elbow, administered during his last speech, by way of a practical appeal to him in particular, he only answered, “Misunderstandings were to be expected when men converse in national deealects.”
Wildrake, now considerably drunker than he ought to have been in civil company, caught up the phrase and repeated it:—“Misunderstanding, sir—Misunderstanding, sir?—I do not know how I am to construe that, sir; but to judge from the information of these scratches on your honourable visnomy, I should augur that you had been of late at misunderstanding with the cat, sir.”
“You are mistaken, then, friend, for it was with the dowg,” answered the Scotsman, dryly, and cast a look towards Albert.
“We had some trouble with the watch-dogs in entering so late in the evening,” said Albert, in explanation, “and this youth had a fall among some rubbish, by which he came by these scratches.”
“And now, dear Sir Henry,” said Dr. Rochecliffe, “allow us to remind you of your gout, and our long journey. I do it the rather that my good friend your son has been, during the whole time of supper, putting questions to me aside, which had much better be reserved till to-morrow—May we therefore ask permission to retire to our night’s rest?”