The Antiquary — Complete by Walter Scott (fun to read .txt) 📕

sooner than I would speak a word mair about the matter, excepting this, that there was nae ill intended, but muckle gude, and that the purpose was to serve them that are worth twenty hundred o’ me. But there’s nae law, I trow, that makes it a sin to ken where ither folles siller is, if we didna pit hand til’t oursell?”

Oldbuck walked once or twice up and down the room in profound thought, endeavouring to find some plausible reason for transactions of a nature so mysterious—but his ingenuity was totally at fault. He then placed himself before the prisoner.

“This story of yours, friend Edie, is an absolute enigma, and would require a second OEdipus to solve it—who OEdipus was, I will tell you some other time if you remind me—However, whether it be owing to the wisdom or to the maggots with which you compliment me, I am strongly disposed to believe that you have spoken the truth, the rather that you have not made any of those obtestations of the superior powers, which I observe you and your comrades always make use of when you mean to deceive folks.” (Here Edie could not suppress a smile.) “If, therefore, you will answer me one question, I will endeavour to procure your liberation.”

“If ye’ll let me hear the question,” said Edie, with the caution of a canny Scotchman, “I’ll tell you whether I’ll answer it or no.”

“It is simply,” said the Antiquary, “Did Dousterswivel know anything about the concealment of the chest of bullion?”

“He, the ill-fa’ard loon!” answered Edie, with much frankness of manner— “there wad hae been little speerings o’t had Dustansnivel ken’d it was there—it wad hae been butter in the black dog’s hause.”

“I thought as much,” said Oldbuck. “Well, Edie, if I procure your freedom, you must keep your day, and appear to clear me of the bail-bond, for these are not times for prudent men to incur forfeitures, unless you can point out another Aulam auri plenam quadrilibrem—another Search, No. I.”

“Ah!” said the beggar, shaking his head, “I doubt the bird’s flown that laid thae golden eggs—for I winna ca’ her goose, though that’s the gait it stands in the story-buick—But I’ll keep my day, Monkbarns; ye’se no loss a penny by me—And troth I wad fain be out again, now the weather’s fine—and then I hae the best chance o’ hearing the first news o’ my friends.”

“Well, Edie, as the bouncing and thumping beneath has somewhat ceased, I presume Bailie Littlejohn has dismissed his military preceptor, and has retired from the labours of Mars to those of Themis—I will have some conversation with him—But I cannot and will not believe any of those wretched news you were telling me.”

“God send your honour may be right!” said the mendicant, as Oldbuck left the room.

The Antiquary found the magistrate, exhausted with the fatigues of the drill, reposing in his gouty chair, humming the air, “How merrily we live that soldiers be!” and between each bar comforting himself with a spoonful of mock-turtle soup. He ordered a similar refreshment for Oldbuck, who declined it, observing, that, not being a military man, he did not feel inclined to break his habit of keeping regular hours for meals—“Soldiers like you, Bailie, must snatch their food as they find means and time. But I am sorry to hear ill news of young Taffril’s brig.”

“Ah, poor fellow!” said the bailie, “he was a credit to the town—much distinguished on the first of June.”

“But,” said Oldbuck, “I am shocked to hear you talk of him in the preterite tense.”

“Troth, I fear there may be too much reason for it, Monkbarns;—and yet let us hope the best. The accident is said to have happened in the Rattray reef of rocks, about twenty miles to the northward, near Dirtenalan Bay—I have sent to inquire about it—and your nephew run out himself as if he had been flying to get the Gazette of a victory.”

Here Hector entered, exclaiming as he came in, “I believe it’s all a damned lie—I can’t find the least authority for it, but general rumour.”

“And pray, Mr. Hector,” said his uncle, “if it had been true, whose fault would it have been that Lovel was on board?”

“Not mine, I am sure,” answered Hector; “it would have been only my misfortune.”

“Indeed!” said his uncle, “I should not have thought of that.”

“Why, sir, with all your inclination to find me in the wrong,” replied the young soldier, “I suppose you will own my intention was not to blame in this case. I did my best to hit Lovel, and if I had been successful, ‘tis clear my scrape would have been his, and his scrape would have been mine.”

“And whom or what do you intend to hit now, that you are lugging with you that leathern magazine there, marked Gunpowder?”

“I must be prepared for Lord Glenallan’s moors on the twelfth, sir,” said M’Intyre.

“Ah, Hector! thy great chasse, as the French call it, would take place best—

Omne cum Proteus pecus agitaret altos Visere montes—

Could you meet but with a martial phoca, instead of an unwarlike heath-bird.”

“The devil take the seal, sir, or phoca, if you choose to call it so! It’s rather hard one can never hear the end of a little piece of folly like that.”

“Well, well,” said Oldbuck, “I am glad you have the grace to be ashamed of it—as I detest the whole race of Nimrods, I wish them all as well matched. Nay, never start off at a jest, man—I have done with the phoca—though, I dare say, the Bailie could tell us the value of seal-skins just now.”

“They are up,” said the magistrate, “they are well up—the fishing has been unsuccessful lately.”

“We can bear witness to that,” said the tormenting Antiquary, who was delighted with the hank this incident had given him over the young sportsman: One word more, Hector, and

We’ll hang a seal-skin on thy recreant limbs.

Aha, my boy! Come, never mind it; I must go to business.—Bailie, a word with you: you must take bail—moderate bail, you understand—for old Ochiltree’s appearance.”

“You don’t consider what you ask,” said the Bailie; “the offence is assault and robbery.”

“Hush! not a word about it,” said the Antiquary. “I gave you a hint before—I will possess you more fully hereafter—I promise you, there is a secret.”

“But, Mr. Oldbuck, if the state is concerned, I, who do the whole drudgery business here, really have a title to be consulted, and until I am”—

“Hush! hush!” said the Antiquary, winking and putting his finger to his nose,—“you shall have the full credit, the entire management, whenever matters are ripe. But this is an obstinate old fellow, who will