“What! of Sall Jennings?” exclaimed Craigengelt; “then she must be a good one.”

“Hold your tongue, and keep your Tory rants to yourself, if it be possible,” said Bucklaw.  “I tell you, that through the Duchess of Marlborough has this Northumbrian cousin of mine become a crony of Lady Ashton, the Keeper’s wife, or, I may say, the Lord Keeper’s Lady Keeper, and she has favoured Lady Blenkensop with a visit on her return from London, and is just now at her old mansion-house on the banks fo the Wansbeck.  Now, sir, as it has been the use and wont of these ladies to consider their husbands as of no importance in the management of their own families, it has been their present pleasure, without consulting Sir William Ashton, to put on the tapis a matrimonial alliance, to be concluded between Lucy Ashton and my own right honourable self, Lady Ashton acting as self-constituted plenipotentiary on the part of her daughter and husband, and Mother Blenkensop, equally unaccredited, doing me the honour to be my representative.  You may suppose I was a little astonished when I found that a treaty, in which I was so considerably interested, had advanced a good way before I was even consulted.”

“Capot me! if I think that was according to the rules of the game,” said his confidant; “and pray, what answer did you return?”

“Why, my first thought was to send the treaty to the devil, and the negotiators along with it, for a couple of meddling old women; my next was to laugh very hearily; and my third and last was a settled opinion that the thing was reasonable, and would suit me well enough.”

“Why, I thought you had never seen the wench but once, and then she had her riding-mask on; I am sure you told me so.”

“Ay, but I liked her very well then.  And Ravenswood’s dirty usage of me—­shutting me out of doors to dine with the lackeys, because he had the Lord Keeper, forsooth, and his daughter, to be guests in his beggarly castle of starvation,—­d—­n me, Craigengelt, if I ever forgive him till I play him as good a trick!”

“No more you should, if you are a lad of mettle,” said Craigengelt, the matter now taking a turn in which he could sympathise; “and if you carry this wench from him, it will break his heart.”

“That it will not,” said Bucklaw; “his heart is all steeled over with reason and philosophy, things that you, Craigie, know nothing about more than myself, God help me.  But it will break his pride, though, and that’s what I’m driving at.”

“Distance me!” said Craigengelt, “but I know the reason now of his unmannerly behaviour at his old tumble-down tower yonder.  Ashamed of your company?—­no, no!  Gad, he was afraid you would cut in and carry off the girl.”

“Eh!  Craigengelt?” said Bucklaw, “do you really think so? but no, no! he is a devilish deal prettier man than I am.”  “Who—­he?” exclaimed the parasite.  “He’s as black as the crook; and for his size—­he’s a tall fellow, to be sure, but give me a light, stout, middle-sized——­”