to what has fallen from
yourself, I will give it for as long as it shall please God to spare your days.«
    »You will observe,« he said next, »that I have made no employment of
menaces.«
    »It was like your lordship's nobility,« said I. »Yet I am not altogether so
dull but what I can perceive the nature of those you have not uttered.«
    »Well,« said he, »good-night to you. May you sleep well, for I think it is
more than I am like to do.«
    With that he sighed, took up a candle, and gave me his conveyance as far as
the street-door.
 

                                   Chapter V

                            In the Advocate's House

The next day, Sabbath, August 27th, I had the occasion I had long looked forward
to, to hear some of the famous Edinburgh preachers, all well known to me already
by the report of Mr. Campbell. Alas! and I might just as well have been at
Essendean, and sitting under Mr. Campbell's worthy self! the turmoil of my
thoughts, which dwelt continually on the interview with Prestongrange,
inhibiting me from all attention. I was indeed much less impressed by the
reasoning of the divines than by the spectacle of the thronged congregation in
the churches, like what I imagined of a theatre or (in my then disposition) of
an assize of trial; above all at the West Kirk, with its three tiers of
galleries, where I went in the vain hope that I might see Miss Drummond.
    On the Monday I betook me for the first time to a barber's, and was very
well pleased with the result. Thence to the Advocate's, where the red coats of
the soldiers showed again about his door, making a bright place in the close. I
looked about for the young lady and her gillies: there was never a sign of them.
But I was no sooner shown into the cabinet or antechamber where I had spent so
weariful a time upon the Saturday, than I was aware of the tall figure of James
More in a corner. He seemed a prey to a painful uneasiness, reaching forth his
feet and hands, and his eyes speeding here and there without rest about the
walls of the small chamber, which recalled to me with a sense of pity the man's
wretched situation. I suppose it was partly this, and partly my strong
continuing interest in his daughter, that moved me to accost him.
    »Give you a good-morning, sir,