"He, he!" chuckled the senator, who had a strange fancy for maliciously stinging his companion. "This is the end o' spending puir Alison's money among horse-coupers, vintners, panders, de'ils-buckies, and bona-robas----" "Hold, Mersington! I beg you will hear me with gravity. My good cousin and gossip, at times I have found your advice of the first value. You know how immensely fond I am of Lilian Napier, and having been pretty fortunate with the sex in my time (crush me! like What-is-his-name, I might say, _Veni, vidi, vici_,) I made the little minx an offer of marriage, and, would'st believe it? she really had the impudence to reject me." "A braw buckie like you, Randal? For what?" "Forsooth, only because I was a matter of some twenty years older than herself." "Pest upon the gypsy! but then there is that plaguy entail--" "Pshaw! I could soon have that broken. Lady Grisel hath the life-rent, and after her death (which cannot be far off), and failing the captain, the Lands go entire to Lilian. Now her cousin, this gay spark in the service of their Mightinesses, the States-General, by his leaguing and intriguing with that Dutch intromitter, Orange William and our rascally recusants, hath made the entail null--a dead letter--ha!" "Faith, Randal, if you get your claws laid on the Bruntisfield barony, the rents thereof will puff your purse out brawly for a time. But alake! it's like a sieve that aye rins out--ever filling, but never full. Bethink ye, man, there is the auld mansion having the right of dungeon, pit and dule-tree, wi' the grange, mains, yards, orchards, stables, doo-cot, bake and brewhouses pertaining thereunto (o'd I've the haill inventory by heart). The four merk land o' auld extent named Nether Durdie bounded by the Burghloch--the fishings o' that water, the rigs, rowme and holm o' Drumdryan, wi' the farm-toun to the eastward thereof holden o' the city for ane crown-bowl o' punch yearly, and ane armed man's service, and whilk payeth 57 bolls o' wheat, twa firlots o' barley, forty and aught o' aitmeal, 64 gude fat capons, and sae forth--my certie! by twa women being relaxit frae the horn you have lost a' that, and deil kens how mickle mair." "Fool--fool! this croaking maddens me!" exclaimed Clermistonlee, starting a second time from the table, and pacing about the room. "Come--come, my Lord," said Mersington, putting on his wig; "he--he! ye may huff and hector at Juden as ye please, but these are hard words for a Swinton to swallow." "I crave your pardon, gossip, but why torture me thus? I must have some signal and terrible revenge on Dunbarton for his interfering with me in this matter. Could we not bring him under suspicion of the Council?" "A moral and physical impossibility." "Juden would give him the contents of a carbine if I gave him a hint anent it."