"
"I am to request you will not use the word 'jilt' and Miss Ashton's name
together," said Bucklaw, gravely.
"Jilt, did I say? Discard, my lad of acres--by Jove, I meant to
discard," replied Craigengelt; "and I hope she'll discard him like
a small card at piquet, and take in the king of hearts, my boy! But
yet----"
"But what?" said his patron.
"But yet I know for certain they are hours together alone, and in the
woods and the fields."
"That's her foolish father's dotage; that will be soon put out of the
lass's head, if it ever gets into it," answered Bucklaw. "And now fill
your glass again, Captain; I am going to make you happy; I am going to
let you into a secret--a plot--a noosing plot--only the noose is but
typical."
"A marrying matter?" said Craigengelt, and his jaw fell as he asked the
question, for he suspected that matrimony would render his situation
at Girnington much more precarious than during the jolly days of his
patron's bachelorhood.
"Ay, a marriage, man," said Bucklaw; "but wherefore droops they might
spirit, and why grow the rubies on they cheek so pale? The board will
have a corner, and the corner will have a trencher, and the trencher
will have a glass beside it; and the board-end shall be filled, and
the trencher and the glass shall be replenished for thee, if all the
petticoats in Lothian had sworn the contrary.
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