I told him what had passed between Rankeillor and myself before the house of Shaws.
"Well, and so ye will hang!" said he. "Ye'll hang beside James Stewart. There's your fortune told."
"I hope better of it yet than that," said I; "but I could never deny there was a risk."
"Risk!" says he, and then sat silent again. "I ought to thank you for you staunchness to my friends, to whom you show a very good spirit," he says, "if you have the strength to stand by it. But I warn you that you're wading deep. I wouldn't put myself in your place (me that's a Stewart born!) for all the Stewarts that ever there were since Noah. Risk? ay, I take over-many; but to be tried in court before a Campbell jury and a Campbell judge, and that in a Campbell country and upon a Campbell quarrel—think what you like of me, Balfour, it's beyond me."
"It's a different way of thinking, I suppose," said I; "I was brought up to this one by my father before me."
"Glory to his bones! he has left a decent son to his name," says he. "Yet I would not have you judge me over-sorely. My case is dooms hard. See, sir, ye tell me ye're a Whig: I wonder what I am. No Whig to be sure; I couldnae be just that. But—laigh in your ear, man—I'm maybe no very keen on the other side."
"Is that a fact?" cried I. "It's what I would think of a man of your intelligence."
"Hut! none of your whillywhas!"[1] cries he.
- ↑ Flatteries.
