"
"Oh yes! your reverence's cloak is wet enough to cast a damp upon
anything," exclaimed Hugh Crombie, assuming a look of tender anxiety. "The
young gentlemen are affrighted for your valuable life. Fear deprives them
of utterance: permit me to relieve you of these dangerous garments."
"Trouble not yourself, honest man," replied the doctor, who was one of the
most gullible of mortals. "I trust I am in no danger; my dwelling being
near at hand. But for these young men"--
"Would your reverence but honor my Sunday suit,--the gray broadcloth coat,
and the black velvet smallclothes, that have covered my unworthy legs but
once? Dame Crombie shall have them ready in a moment," continued Hugh,
beginning to divest the doctor of his garments.
"I pray you to appease your anxiety," cried Dr. Melmoth, retaining a firm
hold on such parts of his dress as yet remained to him. "Fear not for my
health. I will but speak a word to those misguided youth, and be gone."
"Misguided youth, did your reverence say?" echoed Hugh, in a tone of utter
astonishment. "Never were they better guided than when they entered my
poor house. Oh, had your reverence but seen them, when I heard their
cries, and rushed forth to their assistance.
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