She looked up at him, a little wild at that; and he slid off at once into another matter, the extent of my estate, which (during the most of the dinner time) he continued to dwell upon with interest.  But it was to no purpose he dissembled; he had touched the matter with too gross a hand:  and I knew what to expect.  Dinner was scarce ate when he plainly discovered his designs.  He reminded Catriona of an errand, and bid her attend to it.  “I do not see you should be gone beyond the hour,” he added, “and friend David will be good enough to bear me company till you return.”  She made haste to obey him without words.  I do not know if she understood, I believe not; but I was completely satisfied, and sat strengthening my mind for what should follow.

The door had scarce closed behind her departure, when the man leaned back in his chair and addressed me with a good affectation of easiness.  Only the one thing betrayed him and that was his face; which suddenly shone all over with fine points of sweat.

“I am rather glad to have a word alone with you,” says he, “because in our first interview there were some expressions you misapprehended and I have long meant to set you right upon.  My daughter stands beyond doubt.  So do you, and I would make that good with my sword against all gainsayers.  But, my dear David, this world is a censorious place—­as who should know it better than myself, who have lived ever since the days of my late departed father, God sain him! in a perfect spate of calumnies?  We have to face to that; you and me have to consider of that; we have to consider of that.”  And he wagged his head like a minister in a pulpit.

“To what effect, Mr. Drummond?” said I.  “I would be obliged to you if you would approach your point.”

“Ay, ay,” says he, laughing, “like your character indeed! and what I most admire in it.  But the point, my worthy fellow, is sometimes in a kittle bit.”  He filled a glass of wine.  “Though between you and me, that are such fast friends, it need not bother us long.  The point, I need scarcely tell you, is my daughter.  And the first thing is that I have no thought in my mind of blaming you.  In the unfortunate circumstances, what could you do else?  ’Deed, and I cannot tell.”

“I thank you for that,” said I, pretty close upon my guard.

“I have besides studied your character,” he went on; “your talents are fair; you seem to have a moderate competence; which does no harm; and one thing with another, I am very happy to have to announce to you that I have decided on the latter of the two ways open.”

“I am afraid I am dull,” said I.  “What ways are these?”

He bent his brows upon me formidably and uncrossed his legs.  “Why, sir,” says he, “I think I need scarce describe them to a gentleman of your condition; either that I should cut your throat or that you should marry my daughter.”

“You are pleased to be quite plain at last,” said I.