“I am glad of it,” said Ravenswood, “and should be more so, were I confident that Bucklaw would change his company and habits with his fortunes. This appearance of Craigengelt, acting in the capacity of his friend, is a most vile augury for his future respectability.” “He is a bird of evil omen, to be sure,” said the Keeper, “and croaks of jail and gallows-tree. But I see Mr. Caleb grows impatient for our return to breakfast.” CHAPTER XVIII. Sir, stay at home and take an old man’s counsel; Seek not to bask you by a stranger’s hearth; Our own blue smoke is warmer than their fire. Domestic food is wholesome, though ’tis homely, And foreign dainties poisonous, though tasteful. The French Courtezan. The Master of Ravenswood took an opportunity to leave his guests to prepare for their departure, while he himself made the brief arrangements necessary previous to his absence from Wolf’s Crag for a day or two. It was necessary to communicate with Caleb on this occasion, and he found that faithful servitor in his sooty and ruinous den, greatly delighted with the departure of their visitors, and computing how long, with good management, the provisions which had been unexpended might furnish the Master’s table. “He’s nae belly god, that’s ae blessing; and Bucklaw’s gane, that could have eaten a horse behind the saddle. Cresses or water-purpie, and a bit ait-cake, can serve the Master for breakfast as weel as Caleb. Then for dinner—there’s no muckle left on the spule-bane; it will brander, though—it will brander very weel.” His triumphant calculations were interrupted by the Master, who communicated to him, not without some hesitation, his purpose to ride with the Lord Keeper as far as Ravenswood Castle, and to remain there for a day or two. “The mercy of Heaven forbid!” said the old serving-man, turning as pal as the table-cloth which he was folding up. “And why, Caleb?” said his master—“why should the mercy of Heaven forbid my returning the Lord Keeper’s visit?” “Oh, sir!” replied Caleb—“oh, Mr. Edgar! I am your servant, and it ill becomes me to speak; but I am an auld servant—have served baith your father and gudesire, and mind to have seen Lord Randal, your great-grandfather, but that was when I was a bairn.” “And what of all this, Balderstone?” said the Master; “what can it possibly have to do with my paying some ordinary civility to a neighbour.” “Oh, Mr. Edgar,—that is, my lord!” answered the butler, “your ain conscience tells you it isna for your father’s son to be neighbouring wi’ the like o’ him; it isna for the credit of the family. An he were ance come to terms, and to gie ye back your ain, e’en though ye suld honour his house wi’ your alliance, I suldna say na; for the young leddy is a winsome sweet creature. But keep your ain state wi’ them—I ken the race o’ them weel—they will think the mair o’ ye.”