'Your Majesty had best give auld Davy a coat-of-arms, as well as a pedigree,' said Sir Mungo.
'It's done, or ye bade, Sir Mungo,' said the king; 'and I trust we, who are the fountain of all earthly honour, are free to spirit a few drops of it on one so near our person, without offence to the Knight of Castle Girnigo. We have already spoken with the learned men of the Herald's College, and we propose to grant him an augmented coat-of- arms, being his paternal coat, charged with the crown-wheel of a watch in chief, for a difference; and we purpose to add Time and Eternity, for supporters, as soon as the Garter King-at-Arms shall be able to devise how Eternity is to be represented.'
'I would make him twice as muckle as Time,'[29] said Archie Armstrong, the Court fool, who chanced to be present when the king stated this dilemma. 'Peace, man— ye shall be whippet,' said the king, in return for this hint; 'and you, my liege subjects of England, may weel take a hint from what we have said, and not be in such a hurry to laugh at our Scottish pedigrees, though they be somewhat long derived, and difficult to be deduced. Ye see that a man of right gentle blood may, for a season, lay by his gentry, and yet ken whare to find it, when he has occasion for it. It would be as unseemly for a packman, or pedlar, as ye call a travelling merchant, whilk is a trade to which our native subjects of Scotland are specially addicted, to be blazing his genealogy in the faces of those to whom he sells a bawbee's worth of ribbon, as it would be to him to have a beaver on his head, and a rapier by his side, when the pack was on his shoulders. Na, na—he hings his sword on the cleek, lays his beaver on the shelf, puts his pedigree into his pocket, and gangs as doucely and cannily about his peddling craft as if his blood was nae better than ditch-water; but let our pedlar be transformed, as I have kend it happen mair than ance, into a bein thriving merchant, then ye shall have a transformation, my lords.
'In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas—'
Out he pulls his pedigree, on he buckles his sword, gives his beaver a brush, and cocks it in the face of all creation. We mention these things at the mair length, because we would have you all to know, that it is not without due consideration of the circumstances of all parties, that we design, in a small and private way, to honour with our own royal presence the marriage of Lord Glenvarloch with Margaret Ramsay, daughter and heiress of David Ramsay, our horologer, and a cadet only thrice removed from the ancient house of Dalwolsey. We are grieved we cannot have the presence of the noble Chief of that House at the ceremony; but where there is honour to be won abroad the Lord Dalwolsey is seldom to be found at home.
Heriot bowed, as in duty bound. In fact, the king, who was a great politician about trifles, had manoeuvred greatly on this occasion, and had contrived to get the Prince and Buckingham dispatched on an expedition to Newmarket, in order that he might find an opportunity in their absence of indulging himself in his own gossiping,
'This is a sair job on you, Master George—the king must have had little consideration—this will cost you a bonny penny, this wedding dinner?'
'It will not break me, Sir Mungo,' answered Heriot; 'the king hath a right to see the table which his bounty hath supplied for years, well covered for a single day.'
'Vera true, vera true—we'll have a' to pay, I doubt, less or mair—a sort of penny-wedding it will prove, where all men contribute to the young folk's maintenance, that they may not have just four bare legs in a bed together. What do you propose to give, Master George?—we begin with the city when money is in question.'[30]
'Only a trifle, Sir Mungo—I give my god-daughter the marriage ring; it is a curious jewel—I bought it in Italy; it belonged to Cosmo de Medici. The bride will not need my help—she has an estate which belonged to her maternal grandfather.'
'The auld soap-boiler,' said Sir Mungo; 'it will need some of his suds to scour the blot out of the Glenvarloch shield—I have heard that estate was no great things.'
'It is as good as some posts at Court, Sir Mungo, which are coveted by persons of high quality,' replied George Heriot.
'Court favour, said ye? Court favour, Master Heriot?' replied Sir Mungo, choosing then to use his malady of misapprehension; 'Moonshine in water, poor thing, if that is all she is to be tochered with—I am truly solicitous about them.'
'I will let you into a secret,' said the citizen, 'which will relieve your tender anxiety. The dowager Lady Dalgarno gives a competent fortune to the bride, and settles the rest of her estate upon her nephew the bridegroom.'
'Ay, say ye sae?' said Sir Mungo, 'just to show her regard to her husband that is in the tomb—lucky that her nephew did not send him there; it was a strange story that death of poor Lord Dalgarno—some folk think the poor gentleman had much wrong. Little good comes of marrying the daughter of the house you are at feud with; indeed, it was less poor Dalgarno's fault, than theirs that forced the match on him; but I am glad the young folk are to have something to live on, come how it like, whether by charity or inheritance. But if the Lady Dalgarno were to sell all she has, even to her very wylie-coat, she canna gie them back the fair Castle of Glenvarloch—that is lost and gane—lost and gane.'
'It is but too true,' said George Heriot; 'we cannot discover what has become of the villain Andrew Skurliewhitter, or what Lord Dalgarno has done with the mortgage.'
'Assigned it away to some one, that his wife might not get it after he was gane; it would have disturbed him in his grave, to think Glenvarloch should get that land back again,' said Sir Mungo; 'depend on it, he will have ta'en sure measures to keep that noble lordship out of her grips or her nevoy's either.'
'Indeed it is but too probable, Sir Mungo,' said Master Heriot; 'but as I am obliged to go and look after many things in consequence of this ceremony, I must leave you to comfort yourself with the reflection.'
'The bride-day, you say, is to be on the thirtieth of the instant month?' said Sir Mungo, holloing after the citizen; 'I will be with you in the hour of cause.'
'The king invites the guests,' said George Heriot, without turning back.
'The base-born, ill-bred mechanic!' soliloquised Sir Mungo, 'if it were not the odd score of pounds he lent me last week, I would teach him how to bear himself to a man of quality! But I will be at the bridal banquet in spite of him.'
Sir Mungo contrived to get invited, or commanded, to attend on the bridal accordingly, at which there were but few persons present; for James, on such occasions, preferred a snug privacy, which gave him liberty to lay aside the encumbrance, as he felt it to be, of his regal dignity. The company was very small, and indeed there were at least two persons absent whose presence might have been expected. The first of these was the Lady Dalgarno, the state of whose health, as well as the recent death of her husband, precluded her attendance on the ceremony. The other absentee was Richie Moniplies, whose conduct for some time past had been extremely mysterious. Regulating his attendance on Lord Glenvarloch entirely according to his own will and pleasure, he had, ever since the rencounter in Enfield Chase, appeared regularly at his bedside in the morning, to assist him to dress, and at his wardrobe in the evening. The rest of the day he disposed of at his own pleasure, without control from his lord, who had now a complete establishment of attendants. Yet he was somewhat curious to know how the fellow disposed of so much of his time; but on this subject Richie showed no desire to be communicative.
On the morning of the bridal-day, Richie was particularly attentive in doing all a valet-de-chambre could, so as to set off to advantage the very handsome figure of his master; and when he had arranged his dress to the utmost exactness, and put to his long curled locks what he called 'the finishing touch of the redding-kaim,' he gravely kneeled down, kissed his hand, and bade him farewell, saying that he humbly craved leave to discharge himself of his lordship's service.
'Why, what humour is this?' said Lord Glenvarloch; 'if you mean to discharge yourself of my service, Richie, I suppose you intend to enter my wife's?'
'I wish her good ladyship that shall soon be, and your good lordship, the blessings of as good a servant as
