“I would take it with a little more temper,” said I, “and perhaps we can avoid what you object to. I can see no way for it but to give myself up, but perhaps you can see another; and if you could, I could never deny but what I would be rather relieved. For I think my traffic with his lordship is little likely to agree with my health. There’s just the one thing clear, that I have to give my evidence; for I hope it’ll save Alan’s character (what’s left of it), and James’s neck, which is the more immediate.” He was silent for a breathing-space, and then, “My man,” said he, “you’ll never be allowed to give such evidence.” “We’ll have to see about that,” said I; “I’m stiff-necked when I like.” “Ye muckle ass!” cried Stewart, “it’s James they want; James has got to hang—Alan, too, if they could catch him—but James whatever! Go near the Advocate with any such business, and you’ll see! he’ll find a way to muzzle, ye.” “I think better of the Advocate than that,” said I. “The Advocate be dammed!” cries he. “It’s the Campbells, man! You’ll have the whole clanjamfry of them on your back; and so will the Advocate too, poor body! It’s extraordinar ye cannot see where ye stand! If there’s no fair way to stop your gab, there’s a foul one gaping. They can put ye in the dock, do ye no see that?” he cried, and stabbed me with one finger in the leg. “Ay,” said I, “I was told that same no further back than this morning by another lawyer.” “And who was he?” asked Stewart, “He spoke sense at least.” I told I must be excused from naming him, for he was a decent stout old Whig, and had little mind to be mixed up in such affairs. “I think all the world seems to be mixed up in it!” cries Stewart. “But what said you?” “I told him what had passed between Rankeillor and myself before the house of Shaws. “Well, and so ye will hang!” said he. “Ye’ll hang beside James Stewart. There’s your fortune told.” “I hope better of it yet than that,” said I; “but I could never deny there was a risk.” “Risk!” says he, and then sat silent again. “I ought to thank you for your staunchness to my friends, to whom you show a very good spirit,” he says, “if you have the strength to stand by it. But I warn you that you’re wading deep. I wouldn’t put myself in your place (me that’s a Stewart born!) for all the Stewarts that ever there were since Noah. Risk? ay, I take over-many; but to be tried in court before a Campbell jury and a Campbell judge, and that in a Campbell country and upon a Campbell quarrel—think what you like of me, Balfour, it’s beyond me.” “It’s a different way of thinking, I suppose,” said I; “I was brought up to this one by my father before me.” “Glory to his bones! he has left a decent son to his name,” says he. “Yet I would not have you judge me over-sorely. My case is dooms hard. See, sir, ye tell me ye’re a Whig: I wonder what I am. No Whig to be sure; I couldnae be just that. But—laigh in your ear, man—I’m maybe no very keen on the other side.”