Chapter 3 - Page 2

the odour of Geneva and strong waters, to Dame Nelly's great
indignation; for, as she truly said, the smell of the shop and
warehouse was bad enough without these additions.

But all Mr. Olifaunt's habits were regular and cleanly, and his
address, though frank and simple, showed so much of the courtier and
gentleman, as formed a strong contrast with the loud halloo, coarse
jests, and boisterous impatience of her maritime inmates. Dame Nelly
saw that her guest was melancholy also, notwithstanding his efforts to
seem contented and cheerful; and, in short, she took that sort of
interest in him, without being herself aware of the extent, which an
unscrupulous gallant might have been tempted to improve to the
prejudice of honest John, who was at least a score of years older than
his helpmate. Olifaunt, however, had not only other matters to think
of, but would have regarded such an intrigue, had the idea ever
occurred to him, as an abominable and ungrateful encroachment upon the
laws of hospitality, his religion having been by his late father
formed upon the strict principles of the national faith, and his
morality upon those of the nicest honour. He had not escaped the
predominant weakness of his country, an overweening sense of the pride
of birth, and a disposition to value the worth and consequence of
others according to the number and the fame of their deceased
ancestors; but this pride of family was well subdued, and in general
almost entirely concealed, by his good sense and general courtesy.

Such as we have described him, Nigel Olifaunt, or rather the young
Lord Glenvarloch, was, when our narrative takes him up, under great
perplexity respecting the fate of his trusty and only follower,
Richard Moniplies, who had been dispatched by his young master, early
the preceding morning, as far as the court at Westminster, but had not
yet returned. His evening adventures the reader is already acquainted
with, and so far knows more of Richie than did his master, who had not
heard of him for twenty-four hours.

Dame Nelly Christie, in the meantime, regarded her guest with some
anxiety, and a great desire to comfort him, if possible. She placed on
the breakfast-table a noble piece of cold powdered beef, with its
usual guards of turnip and carrot, recommended her mustard as coming
direct from her cousin at Tewkesbury, and spiced the toast with her
own hands--and with her own hands, also, drew a jug of stout and nappy
ale, all of which were elements of the substantial breakfast of the
period.

When she saw that her guest's anxiety prevented him from doing justice
to the good cheer which she set before him, she commenced her career
of verbal consolation with the usual volubility of those women in