"
"They will bear me the farther, my lord duke," answered the goldsmith,
"that my boast is but small."
"O, you do yourself less than justice, my good Master Heriot,"
continued the duke, in the same tone of irony; "you have a marvellous
court-faction, to be the son of an Edinburgh tinker. Have the goodness
to prefer me to the knowledge of the high-born nobleman who is
honoured and advantaged by your patronage."
"That shall be my task," said Lord Huntinglen, with emphasis. "My lord
duke, I desire you to know Nigel Olifaunt, Lord Glenvarloch,
representative of one of the most ancient and powerful baronial houses
in Scotland.--Lord Glenvarloch, I present you to his Grace the Duke of
Buckingham, representative of Sir George Villiers, Knight of
Brookesby, in the county of Leicester."
The duke coloured still more high as he bowed to Lord Glenvarloch
scornfully, a courtesy which the other returned haughtily, and with
restrained indignation. "We know each other, then," said the duke,
after a moment's pause; and as if he had seen something in the young
nobleman which merited more serious notice than the bitter raillery
with which he had commenced--"we know each other--and you know me, my
lord, for your enemy."
"I thank you for your plainness, my lord duke," replied Nigel; "an
open enemy is better than a hollow friend."
"For you, my Lord Huntinglen," said the duke, "methinks you have but
now overstepped the limits of the indulgence permitted to you, as the
father of the prince's friend, and my own.
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