"I will have lied to all of them," she replied. "I will have told
them all that I had plenty. I told HER too. I could not be
lowering James More to them."
I found out later on that she must have lowered him in the very
dust, for the lie was originally the father's, not the daughter's,
and she thus obliged to persevere in it for the man's reputation.
But at the time I was ignorant of this, and the mere thought of her
destitution and the perils in which see must have fallen, had
ruffled me almost beyond reason.
"Well, well, well," said I, "you will have to learn more sense."
I left her mails for the moment in an inn upon the shore, where I
got a direction for Sprott's house in my new French, and we walked
there--it was some little way--beholding the place with wonder as
we went. Indeed, there was much for Scots folk to admire: canals
and trees being intermingled with the houses; the houses, each
within itself, of a brave red brick, the colour of a rose, with
steps and benches of blue marble at the cheek of every door, and
the whole town so clean you might have dined upon the causeway.
Sprott was within, upon his ledgers, in a low parlour, very neat
and clean, and set out with china and pictures, and a globe of the
earth in a brass frame. He was a big-chafted, ruddy, lusty man,
with a crooked hard look to him; and he made us not that much
civility as offer us a seat.
"Is James More Macgregor now in Helvoet, sir?" says I.
"I ken nobody by such a name," says he, impatient-like.
"Since you are so particular," says I, "I will amend my question,
and ask you where we are to find in Helvoet one James Drummond,
alias Macgregor, alias James More, late tenant in Inveronachile?"
"Sir," says he, "he may be in Hell for what I ken, and for my part
I wish he was."
"The young lady is that gentleman's daughter, sir," said I, "before
whom, I think you will agree with me, it is not very becoming to
discuss his character."
"I have nothing to make either with him, or her, or you!" cries he
in his gross voice.
"Under your favour, Mr. Sprott," said I, "this young lady is come
from Scotland seeking him, and by whatever mistake, was given the
name of your house for a direction. An error it seems to have
been, but I think this places both you and me--who am but her
fellow-traveller by accident--under a strong obligation to help our
countrywoman."
"Will you ding me daft?" he cries. "I tell ye I ken naething and
care less either for him or his breed. I tell ye the man owes me
money."
"That may very well be, sir," said I, who was now rather more angry
than himself. "At least, I owe you nothing; the young lady is
under my protection; and I am neither at all used with these
manners, nor in the least content with them."
As I said this, and without particularly thinking what I did, I
drew a step or two nearer to his table; thus striking, by mere good
fortune, on the only argument that could at all affect the man.
The blood left his lusty countenance.
"For the Lord's sake dinna be hasty, sir!" he cried. "I am truly
wishfu' no to be offensive. But ye ken, sir, I'm like a wheen
guid-natured, honest, canty auld fellows--my bark is waur nor my
bite. To hear me, ye micht whiles fancy I was a wee thing dour;
but na, na! it's a kind auld fallow at heart, Sandie Sprott! And
ye could never imagine the fyke and fash this man has been to me."
"Very good, sir," said I. "Then I will make that much freedom with
your kindness as trouble you for your last news of Mr. Drummond."
"You're welcome, sir!" said he. "As for the young leddy (my
respects to her!), he'll just have clean forgotten her. I ken the
man, ye see; I have lost siller by him ere now. He thinks of
naebody but just himsel'; clan, king, or dauchter, if he can get
his wameful, he would give them a' the go-by! ay, or his
correspondent either.