"If I had known you were such a mosstrooper you should have tasted
longer of the Bass," says he.
"Speaking of which, my lord, I return your letter." And I gave him the
enclosure in the
counterfeit hand.
"There was the cover also with the seal," said he.
"I have it not," said I. "It bore not even an address, and could not
compromise a cat. The second
enclosure I have, and with your
permission, I desire to keep it."
I thought he winced a little, but he said nothing to the point. "To-
morrow," he resumed, "our business here is to be finished, and I
proceed by Glasgow. I would be very glad to have you of my party, Mr
David."
"My lord . . ." I began.
"I do not deny it will be of service to me," he interrupted. "I desire
even that, when we shall come to Edinburgh, you should
alight at my
house. You have very warm friends in the Miss Grants, who will be
overjoyed to have you to themselves. If you think I have been of use
to you, you can thus easily repay me, and so far from losing, may reap
some
advantage by the way. It is not every strange young man who is
presented in society by the King's Advocate."
Often enough already (in our brief relations) this gentleman had caused
my head to spin; no doubt but what for a moment he did so again now.
Here was the old
fiction still maintained of my particular favour with
his daughters, one of whom had been so good as to laugh at me, while
the other two had
scarce deigned to remark the fact of my existence.
And now I was to ride with my lord to Glasgow; I was to dwell with him
in Edinburgh; I was to be brought into society under his
protection!
That he should have so much good-nature as to
forgive me was surprising
enough; that he could wish to take me up and serve me seemed
impossible; and I began to seek some ulterior meaning. One was plain.
If I became his guest,
repentance was excluded; I could never think
better of my present design and bring any action. And besides, would
not my presence in his house draw out the whole pungency of the
memorial? For that
complaint could not be very
seriously regarded, if
the person
chiefly injured was the guest of the official most
incriminated. As I thought upon this I could not quite
refrain from
smiling.
"This is in the nature of a countercheck to the
memorial?" said I.
"You are
cunning, Mr. David," said he, "and you do not
wholly guess
wrong the fact will be of use to me in my defence. Perhaps, however,
you underrate friendly sentiments, which are
perfectlygenuine. I have
a respect for you, David, mingled with awe," says he, smiling.
"I am more than
willing, I am
earnestlydesirous to meet your wishes,"
said I. "It is my design to be called to the Bar, where your
lordship's
countenance would be
invaluable; and I am besides sincerely
grateful to yourself and family for different marks of interest and of
indulgence. The difficulty is here. There is one point in which we
pull two ways. You are
trying to hang James Stewart, I am
trying to
save him. In so far as my riding with you would better your
lordship's
defence, I am at your
lordships orders; but in so far as it would help
to hang James Stewart, you see me at a stick."
I thought he swore to himself. "You should certainly be called; the
Bar is the true scene for your talents," says he,
bitterly, and then
fell a while silent. "I will tell you," he
presently resumed, "there
is no question of James Stewart, for or against, James is a dead man;
his life is given and taken - bought (if you like it better) and sold;
no
memorial can help - no defalcation of a
faithful Mr. David hurt him.
Blow high, blow low, there will be no
pardon for James Stewart: and
take that for said! The question is now of myself: am I to stand or
fall? and I do not deny to you that I am in some danger. But will Mr.
David Balfour consider why? It is not because I pushed the case unduly
against James; for that, I am sure of condonation. And it is not
because I have sequestered Mr. David on a rock, though it will pass
under that colour; but because I did not take the ready and plain path,
to which I was pressed
repeatedly, and send Mr. David to his grave or
to the
gallows. Hence the
scandal - hence this
damnedmemorial,"
striking the paper on his leg. "My
tenderness for you has brought me
in this difficulty. I wish to know if your
tenderness to your own
conscience is too great to let you help me out of it."
No doubt but there was much of the truth in what he said; if James was