fellow for your husband, who will never cross you in anything you have a mind to, I will place you at the head of the best establishment in the three Lothians; you shall have Lady Girnington’s lodging in the Canongate of Edinburgh, go where you please, do what you please, and see what you please—­and that’s fair.  Only I must have a corner at the board-end for a worthless old playfellow of mine, whose company I would rather want than have, if it were not that the d—­d fellow has persuaded me that I can’t do without him; and so I hope you won’t except against Craigie, although it might be easy to find much better company.”

“Now, out upon you, Bucklaw,” said Lady Ashton, again interposing; “how can you think Lucy can have any objection to that blunt, honest, good-natured creature, Captain Craigengelt?”

“Why, madam,” replied Bucklaw, “as to Craigie’s sincerity, honesty, and good-nature, they are, I believe, pretty much upon a par; but that’s neither here nor there—­the fellow knows my ways, and has got useful to me, and I cannot well do without him, as I said before.  But all this is nothing to the purpose; for since I have mustered up courage to make a plain proposal, I would fain hear Miss Ashton, from her own lips, give me a plain answer.”

“My dear Bucklaw,” said Lady Ashton, “let me spare Lucy’s bashfulness.  I tell you, in her presence, that she has already consented to be guided by her father and me in this matter.  Lucy, my love,” she added, with that singular combination of suavity of tone and pointed energy which we have already noticed—­“Lucy, my dearest love! speak for yourself, is it not as I say?”

Her victim answered in a tremulous and hollow voice:  “I have promised to obey you—­but upon one condition.”

“She means,” said Lady Ashton, turning to Bucklaw, “she expects an answer to the demand which she has made upon the man at Vienna, or Ratisbon, or Paris—­or where is he?—­for restitution of the engagement in which he had the art to involve her.  You will not, I am sure, my dear friend, think it is wrong that she should feel much delicacy upon this head; indeed, it concerns us all.”

“Perfectly right—­quite fair,” said Bucklaw, half humming, half speaking the end of the old song—­

     “It is best to be off wi’ the old love
     Before you be on wi’ the new.

But I thought,” said he, pausing, “you might have had an answer six times told from Ravenswood.  D—­n me, if I have not a mind to go fetch one myself, if Miss Ashton will honour me with the commission.”

“By no means,” said Lady Ashton; “we have had the utmost difficulty of preventing Douglas, for whom it would be more proper, from taking so rash a step; and do you think we could permit you, my good friend, almost equally dear to us, to go to a desperate man upon an errand so desperate?  In fact, all the friends of the family are of opinion, and my dear Lucy herself ought so to think, that, as this unworthy person has returned no answer to her letter, silence must on this, as in other cases, be held to give consent, and a contract must be supposed to be given up, when the party waives insisting upon it.  Sir William, who should know best, is clear upon this subject; and therefore, my dear Lucy——­”