He
had no difficulty in finding the landlord, who had already occupied his
accustomed seat, and was smoking his accustomed pipe, under the elm-tree.
"Well, Master Walcott, you have come to take a stomach-reliever this
morning, I suppose," said Hugh, taking the pipe from his mouth. "What
shall it be?--a bumper of wine with an egg? or a glass of smooth, old,
oily brandy, such as Dame Crombie and I keep for our own drinking? Come,
that will do it, I know."
"No, no! neither," replied Edward, shuddering involuntarily at the bare
mention of wine and strong drink. "You know well, Hugh Crombie, the errand
on which I come."
"Well, perhaps I do," said the landlord. "You come to order me to saddle
my best horse. You are for a ride, this fine morning."
"True; and I must learn of you in what direction to turn my horse's head,"
replied Edward Walcott.
"I understand you," said Hugh, nodding and smiling. "And now, Master
Edward, I really have taken a strong liking to you; and, if you please to
hearken to it, you shall have some of my best advice."
"Speak," said the young man, expecting to be told in what direction to
pursue the chase.
"I advise you, then," continued Hugh Crombie, in a tone in which some real
feeling mingled with assumed carelessness,--"I advise you to forget that
you have ever known this girl, that she has ever existed; for she is as
much lost to you as if she never had been born, or as if the grave had
covered her.
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