and as Dwining hinted that thou
also hadst seen her--"
"I see her, Simon Glover! Will Dwining say that I saw her?"
"No, not precisely that; but he says you told him you had met the smith
thus accompanied."
"He lies, and I will pound him into a gallipot!" said Oliver Proudfute.
"How! Did you never tell him, then, of such a meeting?"
"What an if I did?" said the bonnet maker. "Did not he swear that he
would never repeat again to living mortal what I communicated to him?
and therefore, in telling the occurrent to you, he hath made himself a
liar."
"Thou didst not meet the smith, then," said Simon, "with such a loose
baggage as fame reports?"
"Lackaday, not I; perhaps I did, perhaps I did not. Think, father
Simon--I have been a four years married man, and can you expect me to
remember the turn of a glee woman's ankle, the trip of her toe, the lace
upon her petticoat, and such toys? No, I leave that to unmarried wags,
like my gossip Henry."
"The upshot is, then," said the glover, much vexed, "you did meet him on
St. Valentine's Day walking the public streets--"
"Not so, neighbour; I met him in the most distant and dark lane in
Perth, steering full for his own house, with bag and baggage, which, as
a gallant fellow, he carried in his arms, the puppy dog on one and the
jilt herself--and to my thought she was a pretty one--hanging upon the
other."
"Now, by good St. John," said the glover, "this infamy would make a
Christian man renounce his faith, and worship Mahound in very anger! But
he has seen the last of my daughter. I would rather she went to the wild
Highlands with a barelegged cateran than wed with one who could, at such
a season, so broadly forget honour and decency. Out upon him!"
"Tush--tush! father Simon," said the liberal minded bonnet maker, "you
consider not the nature of young blood. Their company was not long,
for--to speak truth, I did keep a little watch on him--I met him before
sunrise, conducting his errant damsel to the Lady's Stairs, that the
wench might embark on the Tay from Perth; and I know for certainty, for
I made inquiry, that she sailed in a gabbart for Dundee. So you see it
was but a slight escape of youth."
"And he came here," said Simon, bitterly, "beseeching for admittance to
my daughter, while he had his harlot awaiting him at home! I had rather
he had slain a score of men! It skills not talking, least of all to
thee, Oliver Proudfute, who, if thou art not such a o
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