"Jilt, did I say?—discard, my lad of acres—by Jove, I meant to say discard," replied Craigengelt, "and I hope she'll discard him like a small card at piquet, and take in the King of Hearts, my boy—But yet"
"But what?" said his patron.
"But yet I know for certain they are hours together alone, and in the woods and the fields."
"That's her foolish father's dotage—that will be soon put out of the lass's head, if it ever gets into it," answered Bucklaw. "And now fill your glass again, Captain, I am going to make you happy—I am going to let you into a secret a plot—a noosing plot—only the noose is but typical."
"A marrying matter?" said Craigengelt, and his jaw fell as he asked the question; for he suspected that matrimony would render his situation at Girninghame much more precarious than during the jolly days of his patron's bachelorhood.
