Chapter 8 - Page 2

accommodations."

"It is, to be sure, forlorn enough," said the Master, looking around the
small vault; "but if you will rise and leave it, Caleb will endeavour to
find you a better breakfast than your supper of last night."

"Pray, let it be no better," said Bucklaw, getting up, and endeavouring
to dress himself as well as the obscurity of the place would
permit--"let it, I say, be no better, if you mean me to preserve in my
proposed reformation. The very recollection of Caleb's beverage has done
more to suppress my longing to open the day with a morning draught than
twenty sermons would have done. And you, master, have you been able to
give battle valiantly to your bosom-snake? You see I am in the way of
smothering my vipers one by one."

"I have commenced the battle, at least, Bucklaw, adn I have had a fair
vision of an angel who descended to my assistance," replied the Master.

"Woe's me!" said his guest, "no vision can I expect, unless my aunt,
Lady Grinington, should betake herself to the tomb; and then it would be
the substance of her heritage rather than the appearance of her phantom
that I should consider as the support of my good resolutions. But this
same breakfast, Master--does the deer that is to make the pasty run yet
on foot, as the ballad has it?"

"I will inquire into that matter," said his entertainer; and, leaving
the apartment, he went in search of Caleb, whom, after some difficulty,
he found in an obscure sort of dungeon, which had been in former times
the buttery of the castle. Here the old man was employed busily in the
doubtful task of burnishing a pewter flagon until it should take the
hue and semblance of silver-plate. "I think it may do--I think it might
pass, if they winna bring it ower muckle in the light o' the window!"
were the ejaculations which he muttered from time to time, as if to
encourage himself in his undertaking, when he was interrupted by the
voice of his master.

"Take this," said the Master of Ravenswood, "and get what is necessary
for the family." And with these words he gave to the old butler the
purse which had on the preceding evening so narrowly escaped the fangs
of Craigengelt.

The old man shook his silvery and thin locks, and looked with an
expression of the most heartfelt anguish at his master as he weighed in
his hand the slender treasure, and said in a sorrowful voice, "And is
this a' that's left?"

"All that is left at present," said the Master, affecting more
cheerfulness than perhaps he really felt, "is just the green purse and
the wee pickle gowd, as the old song says; but we shall do better one