"I crave pardon, my lord--I humbly crave pardon--only when I think of
that Jen Win, as they call him, I can hardly help humming--'O, do ye
ken'--But I crave your honour's pardon, and will be totally dumb, if
you command me so."
"No, sirrah!" said Nigel, "talk on, for I well know you would say and
suffer more under pretence of holding your peace, than when you get an
unbridled license. How is it, then? What have you to say against
Master Heriot?"
It seems more than probable, that in permitting this license, the
young lord hoped his attendant would stumble upon the subject of the
young lady who had appeared at prayers in a manner so mysterious. But
whether this was the case, or whether he merely desired that Moniplies
should utter, in a subdued and under tone of voice, those spirits
which might otherwise have vented themselves in obstreperous song, it
is certain he permitted his attendant to proceed with his story in his
own way.
"And therefore," said the orator, availing himself of his immunity, "I
would like to ken what sort of carle this Maister Heriot is. He hath
supplied your lordship with wealth of gold, as I can understand; and
if he has, I make it for certain he hath had his ain end in it,
according to the fashion of the world. Now, had your lordship your own
good lands at your guiding, doubtless this person, with most of his
craft--goldsmiths they call themselves--I say usurers--wad be glad to
exchange so many pounds of African dust, by whilk I understand gold,
against so many fair acres, and hundreds of acres, of broad Scottish
land.
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