CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH.
Well, well, at worst, 'tis neither theft nor coinage, Granting I knew all that you charge me with.
What though the tomb hath borne a second birth, And given the wealth to one that knew not on't, Yet fair exchange was never robbery, Far less pure bounty-- Old Play.
The Antiquary, in order to avail himself of the permission given him to question the accused party, chose rather to go to the apartment in which Ochiltree was detained, than to make the examination appear formal by bringing him again into the magistrate's office.

He found the old man seated by a window which looked out on the sea; and as he gazed on that prospect, large tears found their way, as if unconsciously, to his eye, and from thence trickled down his cheeks and white beard.

His features were, nevertheless, calm and composed, and his whole posture and mien indicated patience and resignation.

Oldbuck had approached him without being observed, and roused him out of his musing by saying kindly, "I am sorry, Edie, to see you so much cast down about this matter." [Illustration: The Antiquary Visits Edie in Prison] The mendicant started, dried his eyes very hastily with the sleeve of his gown, and endeavouring to recover his usual tone of indifference and jocularity, answered, but with a voice more tremulous than usual, "I might weel hae judged, Monkbarns, it was you, or the like o' you, was coming in to disturb me--for it's ae great advantage o' prisons and courts o' justice, that ye may greet your een out an ye like, and nane o' the folk that's concerned about them will ever ask you what it's for." "Well, Edie," replied Oldbuck, "I hope your present cause of distress is not so bad but it may be removed." "And I had hoped, Monkbarns," answered the mendicant, in a tone of reproach, "that ye had ken'd me better than to think that this bit trifling trouble o' my ain wad bring tears into my auld een, that hae seen far different kind o' distress .-- Na, na!--But here's been the puir lass, Caxon's daughter, seeking comfort, and has gotten unco little-- there's been nae speerings o' Taffril's gunbrig since the last gale; and folk report on the key that a king's ship had struck on the Reef of Rattray, and a' hands lost--God forbid! for as sure as you live, Monkbarns, the puir lad Lovel, that ye liked sae weel, must have perished." "God forbid indeed!" echoed the Antiquary, turning pale--"I would rather Monkbarns House were on fire.

My poor dear friend and coadjutor! I will down to the quay instantly." "I'm sure yell learn naething mair than I hae tauld ye, sir," said Ochiltree, "for the officer-folk here were very civil (that is, for the like o' them), and lookit up ae their letters and authorities, and could throw nae light on't either ae way or another." "It can't be true! it shall not be true!" said the Antiquary, "And I won't believe it if it were!--Taffril's an excellent sea man, and Lovel (my poor Lovel!) has all the qualities of a safe and pleasant companion by land or by sea--one, Edie, whom, from the ingenuousness of his disposition, I would choose, did I ever go a sea-voyage (which I never do, unless across the ferry), fragilem mecum solvere phaselum, to be the companion of my risk, as one against whom the elements could nourish no vengeance.