“Did he say so, by heavens!” cried Bucklaw, breaking out into one of those incontrollable fits of passion to which he was constitutionally subject; “if I had heard him, I would have torn the tongue out of his throat before all his peats and minions, and Highland bullies into the bargain.  Why did not Ashton run him through the body?”

“Capot me if I know,” said the Captain.  “He deserved it sure enough; but he is an old man, and a minister of state, and there would be more risk than credit in meddling with him.  You had more need to think of making up to Miss Lucy Ashton the disgrace that’s like to fall upon her than of interfering with a man too old to fight, and on too high a tool for your hand to reach him.”

“It shall reach him, though, one day,” said Bucklaw, “and his kinsman Ravenswood to boot.  In the mean time, I’ll take care Miss Ashton receives no discredit for the slight they have put upon her.  It’s an awkward job, however, and I wish it were ended; I scarce know how to talk to her,—­but fill a bumper, Craigie, and we’ll drink her health.  It grows late, and a night-cowl of good claret is worth all the considering-caps in Europe.”

CHAPTER XXIX.

     It was the copy of our conference. 
     In bed she slept not, for my urging it;
     At board she fed not, for my urging it;
     Alone, it was the subject of my theme;
     In company I often glanced at it.

     Comedy of Errors.

The next morning saw Bucklaw and his faithful Achates, Craigengelt, at Ravenswood Castle.  They were most courteously received by the knight and his lady, as well, as by their son and heir, Colonel Ashton.  After a good deal of stammering and blushing—­for Bucklaw, notwithstanding his audacity in other matters, had all the sheepish bashfulness common to those who have lived little in respectable society—­he contrived at length to explain his wish to be admitted to a conference with Miss Ashton upon the subject of their approaching union.  Sir William and his son looked at Lady Ashton, who replied with the greatest composure, “That Lucy would wait upon Mr. Hayston directly.  I hope,” she added with a smile, “that as Lucy is very young, and has been lately trepanned into an engagement of which she is now heartily ashamed, our dear Bucklaw will excuse her wish that I should be present at their interview?”

“In truth, my dear lady,” said Bucklaw, “it is the very thing that I would have desired on my own account; for I have been so little accustomed to what is called gallantry, that I shall certainly fall into some cursed mistake unless I have the advantage of your ladyship as an interpreter.”

It was thus that Bucklaw, in the perturbation of his embarrassment upon this critical occasion, forgot the just apprehensions he had entertained of Lady Ashton’s overbearing ascendency over her daughter’s mind, and lost an opportunity of ascertaining, by his own investigation, the real state of Lucy’s feelings.