Chapter 10

Bid not thy fortune troll upon the wheels
Of yonder dancing cubes of mottled bone;
And drown it not, like Egypt's royal harlot,
Dissolving her rich pearl in the brimm'd wine-cup.
These are the arts, Lothario, which shrink acres
Into brief yards--bring sterling pounds to farthings,
Credit to infamy; and the poor gull,
Who might have lived an honour'd, easy life,
To ruin, and an unregarded grave.
_The Changes._

When they were fairly embarked on the Thames, the earl took from his
pocket the Supplication, and, pointing out to George Heriot the royal
warrant indorsed thereon, asked him, if it were in due and regular
form? The worthy citizen hastily read it over, thrust forth his hand
as if to congratulate the Lord Glenvarloch, then checked himself,
pulled out his barnacles, (a present from old David Ramsay,) and again
perused the warrant with the most business-like and critical
attention. "It is strictly correct and formal," he said, looking to
the Earl of Huntinglen; "and I sincerely rejoice at it."

"I doubt nothing of its formality," said the earl; "the king
understands business well, and, if he does not practise it often, it
is only because indolence obscures parts which are naturally well
qualified for the discharge of affairs. But what is next to be done
for our young friend, Master Heriot? You know how I am circumstanced.
Scottish lords living at the English Court have seldom command of
money; yet, unless a sum can be presently raised on this warrant,
matters standing as you hastily hinted to me, the mortgage, wadset, or
whatever it is called, will be foreclosed."

"It is true," said Heriot, in some embarrassment; "there is a large
sum wanted in redemption--yet, if it is not raised, there will be an
expiry of the legal, as our lawyers call it, and the estate will be
evicted."

"My noble--my worthy friends, who have taken up my cause so
undeservedly, so unexpectedly," said Nigel, "do not let me be a burden
on your kindness. You have already done too much where nothing was
merited."

"Peace, man, peace," said Lord Huntinglen, "and let old Heriot and I
puzzle this scent out. He is about to open--hark to him!"

"My lord," said the citizen, "the Duke of Buckingham sneers at our
city money-bags; yet they can sometimes open, to prop a falling and a
noble house."

"We know they can," said Lord Huntinglen--"mind not Buckingham, he is
a Peg-a-Ramsay--and now for the remedy."

"I partly hinted to Lord Glenvarloch already," said Heriot, "that the
redemption money might be advanced upon such a warrant