Mr. Oldbuck’s countenance fell. “Why, I thought I had hit on the very arrangement that would suit us both,--and who knows what might happen in the long run, and whether we might ever part? Why, I am master of my acres, man--there is the advantage of being descended from a man of more sense than pride--they cannot oblige me to transmit my goods chattels, and heritages, any way but as I please. No string of substitute heirs of entail, as empty and unsubstantial as the morsels of paper strung to the train of a boy’s kite, to cumber my flights of inclination, and my humours of predilection. Well,--I see you won’t be tempted at present--but Caledonia goes on I hope?” “O certainly,” said Lovel; “I cannot think of relinquishing a plan so hopeful.” “It is indeed,” said the Antiquary, looking gravely upward,--for, though shrewd and acute enough in estimating the variety of plans formed by others, he had a very natural, though rather disproportioned good opinion of the importance of those which originated with himself--“it is indeed one of those undertakings which, if achieved with spirit equal to that which dictates its conception, may redeem from the charge of frivolity the literature of the present generation.” Here he was interrupted by a knock at the room door, which introduced a letter for Mr. Lovel. The servant waited, Mrs. Hadoway said, for an answer. “You are concerned in this matter, Mr. Oldbuck,” said Lovel, after glancing over the billet, and handing it to the Antiquary as he spoke. It was a letter from Sir Arthur Wardour, couched in extremely civil language, regetting that a fit of the gout had prevented his hitherto showing Mr. Lovel the attentions to which his conduct during a late perilous occasion had so well entitled him--apologizing for not paying his respects in person, but hoping Mr. Lovel would dispense with that ceremony, and be a member of a small party which proposed to visit the ruins of Saint Ruth’s priory on the following day, and afterwards to dine and spend the evening at Knockwinnock Castle. Sir Arthur concluded with saying, that he had sent to request the Monkbarns family to join the party of pleasure which he thus proposed. The place of rendezvous was fixed at a turnpike-gate, which was about an equal distance from all the points from which the company were to assemble. “What shall we do?” said Lovel, looking at the Antiquary, but pretty certain of the part he would take. “Go, man--we’ll go, by all means. Let me see--it will cost a post-chaise though, which will hold you and me, and Mary M’Intyre, very well--and the other womankind may go to the manse--and you can come out in the chaise to Monkbarns, as I will take it for the day.” “Why, I rather think I had better ride.” “True, true, I forgot your Bucephalus. You are a foolish lad, by the by, for purchasing the brute outright; you should stick to eighteenpence a side, if you will trust any creature’s legs in preference to your own.”