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Updated: May 16, 2025
In the evening of that day, the yeomanry and volunteers of Glenallan drank prosperity to their young master. In a month afterwards Lord Geraldin was married to Miss Wardour, the Antiquary making the lady a present of the wedding ring a massy circle of antique chasing, bearing the motto of Aldobrand Oldenbuck, Kunst macht gunst.
"Then, my lord," said the Antiquary, whom the interest of the moment elevated above points of expense and convenience, which had generally more than enough of weight with him, "I would propose to your lordship, instead of returning, fatigued as you are, so far as to Glenallan House, or taking the more uncomfortable alternative of going to a bad inn at Fairport, to alarm all the busybodies of the town I would propose, I say, that you should be my guest at Monkbarns for this night.
Oldbuck," replied Lord Glenallan; "but my brother adopted views in politics, and a form of religion, alien from those which had been always held by our house. Our tempers had long differed, nor did my unhappy mother always think him sufficiently observant to her.
With the curiosity belonging to his idle trade and animated character, he tortured himself the whole way to consider what could be the meaning of this mysterious errand with which he was entrusted, or what connection the proud, wealthy, and powerful Earl of Glenallan could have with the crimes or penitence of an old doting woman, whose rank in life did not greatly exceed that of her messenger.
"Lord Glenallan told me himself," answered the Antiquary; "so there is no delation no breach of trust on your part; and as he wishes me to take her evidence down on some important family matters, I chose to bring you with me, because in her situation, hovering between dotage and consciousness, it is possible that your voice and appearance may awaken trains of recollection which I should otherwise have no means of exciting.
"Less than I might have had but mair, O far mair, than wad sink the stoutest brig e'er sailed out o' Fairport harbour! Didna somebody say yestreen at least sae it is borne in on my mind, but auld folk hae weak fancies did not somebody say that Joscelind, Countess of Glenallan, was departed frae life?"
"I did, and I wad hae taen a yet mair holy pledge on it, if there had been ane I wad not hae spared the blood of my body, or the guilt of my soul, to serve the house of Glenallan." "Wretch! do you call that horrid perjury, attended with consequences yet more dreadful do you esteem that a service to the house of your benefactors?"
It was a fine summer evening, and the world that is, the little circle which was all in all to the individual by whom it was trodden, lay before Edie Ochiltree, for the choosing of his night's quarters. When he had passed the less hospitable domains of Glenallan, he had in his option so many places of refuge for the evening, that he was nice, and even fastidious in the choice.
As Edie Ochiltree approached the front of Glenallan House,* an ancient building of great extent, the most modern part of which had been designed by the celebrated Inigo Jones, he began to consider in what way he should be most likely to gain access for delivery of his message; and, after much consideration, resolved to send the token to the Earl by one of the domestics.
"The Earl of Glenallan, cummer! ou, he winna see ony o' the gentles o' the country, and what likelihood is there that he wad see the like o' an auld gaberlunzie?"
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