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TE
OTorkg of 3ai)n ©alt
THE ENTAIL
on
THE LAIRDS OF GRIPPY
I.
JOHN QALT'S NOVELS.
won by b. R. Crockett. The text rAvi.o^
SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 2 vols.
THE PROVOST AND THE lAsT OP THE
I-AIRDS. 2vol». ™^
THE ENTAIL. 2 vols.
ROBERTS BROTHERS. Boston.
of J
T 11 1
Walter signed tlic died.
■-S
'/• ,T(>hn Gall.
Edited hrP-^iorrar Meldruvi
TiIE EjS
THE LAIRDS O F (>-t£ii
WlXn IN TRODrCTION
By S. U. CROCKETT
ILLVSTRATlOyS BY JOHN \7ALLACE
VOLUME I
BOSTON
ROBERTS BROTHERS
1 896
TVorks of Jc
THE
/O
Works of John Gait.
Edited bt/ ^Storrar Meldrum
-M
THE EN^
OR
THE LAIRDS OF
"WITH INTRODUCTION
By S. R. CROCKETT
ILLUSTRATIONS BT JOHN WALLACE
VOLUME I
BOSTON
ROBERTS BROTHERS
1896
ILLUJ
" Walter
" Falling
HANE
ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOLUME I
" Walter signed the deed " . . Frontispiece
"Falling on his knees, clasped his
HANDS together" . . toface page 21S
u
INTRODUCTION
IN
The most
my acquaini
neither does
there is a coi
subjects. "V
that concern
disputation,
argument's s
I do not ho
ing because
prove to h(
herself on b
And I dc
For on the
partake of i
other she ci
current wor
Gait as blu
blonde expc
INTRODUCTION
JLHE most entirely charming young lady of
my acquaintance does not like cream. But
neither does she appreciate John Gait. Hence
there is a controversy between us on both these
subjects. We are, indeed, both well aware
that concerning tastes there can be no serious
disputation. But for all that we dispute for
argument's sake, and for the love of speech.
I do not hold my friend one whit less charm-
ing because of her mislikings. But I try to
prove to her how much delight she denies
herself on both counts.
And I do not despair of ultimate victory.
For on the one hand she can now endure to
partake of the milk of commerce, and on the
other she can read with appreciation certain
current works of fiction, which are to John
Gait as blue skimmed milk is to the intact
blonde expanse which spreads from side to
X INTRODUCTION
side of the milk bvne after a niirht on the
cool dairy floor.
Which thing is more than a parable. For,
as all men know, there be those who vaunt
their inability to i*ead John Gait as if it were
a moral virtue — or perhaps, more exactly, as
if it were a peculiarly atti active and picturesque
crime, like Mr Bret Harte's highway robbery,
or barratry as described by Mr Stevenson. But
I would plead with such to be humble. They
may not be able to help their infirmity. They
may be unable to appreciate " Sweet William
with his homely cottage smell,*" but after ail
it is somewhat short-sighted to pique oneself
upon the failing. It is, indeed, permissible
to say —
"This is no my ain lassie,
Fair though the lassie be,"
but even so much should be said regretfully
and not aggressively. For whoever may like
or mislike, praise or dispraise, there is really
no more question concerning the charm of
John Gait, than there is as to the reality of
the pleasure which generations of humble folk
have derived from the wallflower, the stocks,
! -I
the Londod
cottage gai
honestly t
more than
and spottej
After all,
which ther<
envy Judal
Ephraim.
But why
when my ti
in some re
works of J
that in
Grippyr t
his peculis
parent thj
Scottish b
excuse of i
done, the
chronicle,
roads whi
ance. I
colour of
change —
((
>n the f
I
INTRODUCTION xi
the I^ondon pride, the Sweet AVilliam of their
cottage gardens. Nor is it really criniiiial
honestly to protest one's love for these,
more than for all the strange wizard shapes
and sj)otted mimicries of the orchid house.
After all, the earth is a wide glad place, in
which there is no need that Ephraini should
envy Judah, nor yet that Judah should vex
Ephraim.
But why (it is queried) have I begun thus,
when my task is to introduce the longest, and
in some respects the most important, of the
works of John Gait ? Perhaps because I feel
that in " The Entail, or The Lairds of
Grippy,"" the faults of Gait, his limitations,
his peculiarities, are more insistent and ap-
parent than in any of his other important
Scottish books. Yet this is by no means the
excuse of accusation. For when all is said and
done, the " Lairds of Grippy '" is a delightful
chronicle, as wayward and wimplesome as the
roads which led towards that kindly inherit-
*
ance. I love to journey to Grippy when "the
colour of the trees and hedges is beginning to
change — while here and there a tuft of yellow
xu
INTRODUCTION
leaves, and occasionally the hemes of the
mountain - ash hke clusters of fiery eiiihers
with the sheaves of corn and reapers in the
neighhouring fields, show that sunnner is en-
tirely past and the liarvest time hefnin "
That is just how it is with "The Lairds of
Grippy/' It is the note-book of a man who has
begun to descend the autunmal slope of life.
The lovemaking is that of one who dons no
more the "coortin' coat/' whose own wooing
days are already far behind him, but yet one
who, for all that, looks not unkindly nor wholly
without sympathy upon the wooing of others.
In " The Entail '' it is plain that the author^s
point of view as to matrimony, in spite of
sundry flourishes which mislead nobody, is
bounded by the accomplishment of a snu
down-sitting and the attainment of a shrewd
competence. A crisp and nippy air blows
blusterously through the book. But in spite
of this, the kindly Scottish heart of Gait,
warm like Ayrshire sunshine, keeps his reader
content to do without very much sentiment
of the ordinary type.
I wish, however, Gait had kept to his first
rr
!
thoughc and
tions simply
of trying to
a string whei
sketches. H
the fine " An
l)y the nan
Teinds.^^ Bi
and " Destinii
tricities,'' lea
formations "
with which tl
the mistaken
and overlaid
. For the t
really and c(
is not a nove
both a good
to keep trac
marriages of
Grippy and 1
of Gait th.
continually
their unnum
(on which, ii
of the
libbers,
ill the
is en-
J'cls of
lo has
f life,
ns no
ooincr
t one
hoUj
thers.
thor's
te of
}'» is
snuir
rewcl
•lows
>pite
rait,
icier
lent
irst
■I
i
I
INTRODUCTION xiii
thoughc and called t!:is history of three genera-
tions simply " The Lairds of Grippy,"" instead
of trying to find, in the idea of the " Entail,'*''
a string whereon to hang the whole series of
sketches. He might as well have denominated
the fine "Annals of the Parish of Dalmailing'*'*
by the name of "The Glebe" or "The
Teinds.'''' But it was a time of " Marriages "
and " Destinies," of " Precautions " and " Eccen-
tricities," leading in due time to the "Trans-
formations'" and other hideous intitulations,
with which the perverted taste of the public or
the mistaken zeal of publishers have deformed
and overlaid the genius of story-tellers.
For the title "The Lairds of Grippy" is
really and completely descriptive. The book
is not a novel of the unities, though it requires
both a good memory and a genealogical mind'
to keep track of all the branches and inter-
marriages of the members of the families of
Grippy and Kittlestonheugh. But to the lover
of Gait their plots and counterplots, their
continually recurring " guid-gangin'' pleas,'"
their unnumbered quarrels and reconciliations
(on which, it is curious to recall, Gait specially
XIV
INTRODUCTION
prided himself as showing the "giant reach
of his imagination''), do not really matter to
the comfortably minded reader so much as or"
single kailrunt out of the gardens of Grippy.
The story, such as it is, concerns the liti-
gious annals of a hard-gi*ained generation.
Ilieir wars and stratagems bring out in all
of them a ce^'tain family mother-wit and close-
fisted shrewdness. But with a single exception
they are all led by the nose by the gi'eed of
possession and by the hunger for wider march-
dykes. The most real pleasure in the reading of
the " Entail *" consists (at least for me) in watch-
ing the development of the character of the
admirable Leddy Grippy, and the gradual
gathering of the interest about her, as the
story drifts on from the misfortunes of one
generation to those of another. Perhaps, as in
reading the "Faery Queen,*" the wisest plan
is wholly to abandon oneself to the sensations
of the moment, and thus to enjoy the acquaint-
ance of the many delightful characters who
enter every minute, as op a stage, make their
bow, and retire. In this way we are not too
much concerned with the mazy ploli and
schemes, the
which too nj
cumbered,
in the " Faer
What, for
Cornelius Lu)
the elders in|
his wife hers(
tence, indeed,
ceming mine
woman, who
keep her huj
and sobriety.
Mr Cornel
reputable a I
tant day whe
be seen "ch
sound o' the
headed beast
come o' evei
This wort
shaw, the fi
spiritual agi
home "grea
of Mr Wa
VOL. I.
it reach
atter to
1 as OP"
'ippy.
he liti-
eration.
: in all
rl close-
ception
reed of
march-
ding of
watch-
of the
radual
as the
)f one
, as in
; plan
ations
laint-
who
their
too
and
INTRODUCTION X7
schemes, the legal quirks and Si^ratagcms, with
which too many pages of the " Entail '' are
cuiiihered. As Ilazlitt said of the allegory
ill the " Faery Queen," the })lot won't hite us.
What, for instance, can he finer than iVIr
Cornelius Luke, tailor in Glasgow, and one of
the elders in the Tron Kirk ? — iniless it be
his wife herself, who csily speaks a single sen-
tence, indeed, but who lives for ever in the dis-
cerning mind as a clear-headed clip-tongued
woman, who has doubtless done nuich to
keep her husband in the paths of wisdom
and sobriety.
Mr Cornelius, as becomes an elder of so
reputable a kirk, has a vision of the not dis-
tant day when the ministers of Glasgow will
he seen "chambering and wantoning to the
sound o"* the kist o"* whistles, wi** the seven-
headed beast routing its choruses to the ower-
come o' every spring.'"
This worthy elder finds that Mr Walkin-
shaw, the fii*st Laird of Gnppy, is in strict
spiritual agreement with him. So he returns
home " greatly edified by the godly salutations
of Mr Walkinshaw's spirit — wherein," as he
I
VOL. I.
b
xvi INTRODUCTION
says, "there is a kythiiiijj of fruit meet for
repentance ; a foretaste of thin*:^ that })er-
tain not to this Hfe ; a receiviii<j^ of the arks
of rigliteo ■ • '» and peace which ])asseth all
undei'standing and enchu'eth for evermore."'"'
This was the veiy accent of the advanced
*' jirofessor "'"' of the time, thoii<i,"h perhaps it
is a Httle more reminiscent of (h)iice David
Deans, the Cameronian elder, than of one of
the conforma])le stoups of the Erastian Tron
Kirk of (jkisgow.
But if Cornelius has a "thocht owcr muckle
unction "' for his trade, liis wife keeps all things
right with her discerament and common-sense.
" Fm blythe to hear it,*'"' is the worthy
woman"'s answer to her husband's eulogy of j\Ir
Walkinshaw"'s godliness, " for he"'s an evcn-doon
Nabal — a perfect penurc j)ig — that I ne''er
could abide, ever since he wouldna lend puir
auld Mrs Gorbals, the provost"'s widow (that,
they say, set him up in the world), the sma"*
soom o"* five pounds to help her wi"' the outfit
o"* her oe, when he was gaun to Virginia, a
clerk to Bailie Cross.""
Leaving good Mistress Cornelius, we turn
the ])age, a|
Kilfuddy, tl
who ''reddl
batable (jui
Diana of thl
most sweet i\
life, in spite'
from his no:
dignity of
cocked hat.
P the kind-ht
his hesitati"
sti-uggles be
I a natural ii
reaching la^
also, is a p£
his wee Be
and (under
I Above a
arid waste
found in i
Grippyr
Leddy, wl
mill-happc
other. He
meet
for
h.'it j
)cr-
the arJc'sp
sseth
a,
I lore,
idvanced
t'haf)s it
3 David
one of
LH Troii
nuickle
1 tliinfTs
-sense,
worthy
of Mv
n-doon
[ ne''er
d puir
(that,
e snia'
outfit
nia, a
turn
INTRODUCTION xvii
the }mf:je, and innncdiately we come upon Mr
Kilfu(hly, tliat athnirable and ruhicund clerie
who "redd uj)" so excellently the stifK de-
batable questions conceniin*]^ the temple of
Diana of the K})hesians, but who was perhaps
most sweet and delectable on the vanities of this
life, in spite of the obvious beacon-light sliining
from his nose, and the full-fledged comfortable
dignity of his white-powdered wig and large
cocked hat. Then a Httle further on we liave
the kind-hearted lawyer, j\Ir Keelevin, with
his hesitations and thi])itations, liis frecjuent
stiniggles between the dictates of his heart and
a natural interest in a good responsible far^
reaching law-plea. Walter, the poor natural,
also, is a pathetic figure, with his affect, /n for
his wee Betty Bodle, his dourness, obstinacy,
and (under all) his native kindliness.
Above all, and worthy to redeem far more
arid wastes of inconsequence than are to be
found in all the records of "The Lairds of
Grippy,*''* is the ever Irjsh and admirable
Leddy, whose tongue goes like a well-oiled
mill-happer from one end of the book to the
other. Hers is tiie one comforting and redeem-
xviii
INTRODUCTION
in- fi<r„,.e in that sonic-what imkindly latter
part of the hook uliicli tells of the exploits
of Xuhal the second, and of the loveniakin-
of the very niatter-of-tUet wooers uho ^-divuv
theo-ither" for the i)urpose of keeping the
I)r()perty in the family. There are, indeed,
few scenes in Scottish romance more (juietlv
and truly liumorous than that in wliicli the
Leddy extorts lier dues for the board and lodn--
in^' of the youiio. couple, her gTandchildren,
wliom she lias first inordinately i)etted and
then as implacably (juarrelled with.
"For ye maun ken, AVilly Keckle," she her-
self says, describin*,^ the scene, "that I hae
overcon.e i)rincipalities and powers in this
controvei-sy. Wha ever heard o' thousands
o' pounds gotten for sax weeks^ bed, board,
and washin^ like mine ? But it was a righteous
judgment on tliat Nabal, Milrookit, wha I
shall never speak to in this worP mair— nor
in the next either, I doot, unless he mends
his manners.''
Well might Lord Byron read "The Lairds
of Grippy " tlii'ice over for her sake, and the
Karl of Elessington (that politest of men)
I
declare that
of the I^(l(
list somewhc
I do not
is, in sti'uctu
best books,
in all the ek
so featly an
seems the n
world. TIr
most charac
well deserve>
pictures of <\
and for its
dialogue.
I am not
to grief or
much from
he will expe
tent with t\
when he coi
and the enc
woman the
the too prac
a yird taid
latter
xj)l()its
nakinn-
"draw
jT the
ndcod,
luietly
h the
lod^'-
Idren,
I and
i lier-
hae
this
ands
oard,
;eous
la I
-nor
ends
irds
the
len)
INTRODUCTION xix
(lechire that he was (]uite sure that tlie name
of the Ix'ddy (Jrippy must be on his visiting
list somewhere, if lie could only find it.
I do not say that "The Lairds of (iri})py"
is, in sti'ucture and sequence, one of Oalfs very
best books. Nevertheless it is rich throughout
in all the elements of character-sketching, done
so featly and delicately that the achievement
seems the most easy and natural thing in the
world. The book is throughout one of his
most characteristic and copious, and certiiinly
well deserves to be carefully read, both for its
pictures of citizen life during the last century,
and for its abounding garniture of humorous
dialogue.
I am not afraid that any one will come
to grief or disappointment by expecting too
much from this book of John Galfs, if only
he will expect the right qualities, and be con-
tent with them when he finds them. So that,
when he comes to the end of the last volume,
and the end too of tlmt worthy and capable
woman the Leddy Grippy, he will not, with
the too practical Beenie, stand '■'simpering like
a yird taid "" for a silver teapot whji^b cannot
XX INTRODUCTION
be his, but rather very sympathetically drop
a tear for a friend departed not unworthily to
her rest — as the well-conducted papers of the
period with some originality remarked, "to
the great regret of all surviving friends."
S. R. Crockett.
ly drop
•thiJj to
5 of the
^d, "to
s.
KETT.
THE ENTAIL
TE
Claud w
viving male
stonheugh.
the line, del
allured so ma:
their fortune
his only son,
ships fitted c
adventure in
the whole val
our intention
very circumsi
hiird's family
dient brevity
childhood. I
his father sa
broken hearl
with many o
disease and
VOL. I.
THE ENTAIL
CHAPTEK I
Claud WALKINSHAW was the sole sur-
viving male heir of the Walkinshaws of Kittle-
stonheugh. His grandfather, the last laird of
the line, deluded by the golden virions that
allured so many of the Scottish ;^rentry to embark
their fortunes in the Darien Expedition, sent
his only son, the father of Claud, in one of the
ships fitted out at Cartsdyke, and with him an
adventure in which he had staked more than
the whole value of his estate. But, as it is not
our intention to fatigue the reader with any
very circumstantial account of the state of the
laird's family, we shall pass over with all expe-
dient brevity the domestic history of (laud's
childhood. He was scarcely a year old when
his father sailed ; and his mother died (;f a
broken heart, on heann:>- that her liusband,
with many of his companions, had perished of
disease and famine among the swamps of the
VOL. I. A
2
THE ENTAIL
Mosquito shore. The Kittlestonheugh estate
was soon after sold, and the hiird, with Claud,
retired into Glasgow, where he rented the upper
part of a back house in Aird's Close, in the
Dry gate. The only servant whom, in this altered
state, he could afford to retain, or rather the
only one that he could not get rid of, owing
to her age and infirmities, was Maudge Dobbie,
who in her youth was bairnswoman to his son.
She had been upwards of forty years in the
servitude of his house ; and the situation she
had filled to the father of Claud did not tend
to diminish the kindliness with which she re-
garded the child, especially when, by the ruin
of her master, there was none but herself to
attend him.
The charms of Maudge, even in her vernal
years, had been confined to her warm and affec-
tionate feelings ; and at this period she was
twisted east and west, and hither and yont, and
Time, in the shape of old age, hung so embrac-
ingly round her neck that his weight had bent
her into a hoop. Yet, thus deformed and aged,
she was not without qualities that might have
endeared her to a more generous boy. Her
father had been schoolmaster in the village of
Kittleston ; and under his tuition, before she
was sent, as the phrase then was, to seek her
bread in the world, she had acquired a few of
the elements of learning beyond those which, in
that period, fell to the common lot of female
n
domestics ; a
to teach the|
even to sup
.irithmetic, p
cation table.
(Toblin lore a
which had g
for adventure
ill-fated expe
so congenial
of the son, \
Whittington
Sir William
you ever seen
sensible than
; ditty, the Flo)
■ the Babes in
wearisome tht
^ The solitar
settled in hii
I retreat when
\ his appearanc
; been bustling
t.
I from the first
. the ruin of 1
I sedentary, am
\ and retired fr
s
\ times he sat
and without e
1 of his jrrandsc
I the child, ai
THE ENTAIL
3
'I
domestics ; and she was thus enabled, not only
to teach the orphan reading and writing, but
even to supply him with some knowledge of
arithmetic, particularly addition and the multipli-
cation table. She also possessed a rich stock of
iroblin lore and romantic stories, the recital of
which had given the father of Claud the taste
for adventure that induced him to embark in the
ill-fated expedition. These, however, were not
so congenial to the less sanguine temperament
of the son, who early preferred the history of
Whittington and his Cat to the achievements of
Sir William Wallace : Tak your auld cloak about
you ever seemed to him a thousand times more
sensible than Chevy Chase. As for that doleful
ditty, the Flowers of the Forest, it was worse than
the Babes in the Wood, and Gil Morrice more
wearisome than Death and the Lady.
The solitary old laird had not been long
settled in his sequestered and humble town-
retreat when a change becamf visible in both
his appearance and manners. Formerly he had
been bustling, vigorous, hearty, and social ; but
from the first account of the death of his son and
the ruin of his fortune, he grew thoughtful and
sedentary, and shunned the approach of strangers
and retired from the visits of hts friends. Some-
times he sat for whole days without speaking,
and without even noticing tlie kitten-like gambols
of his grandson ; at others he would fondle over
the child, and caress him wiLli more than a
THE ENTAIL
grandfather's affection ; ai;ain, he would peevishly
brush the boy away as he clasped his knees,
and hurry out of the house with short and
agitated steps. His respectable portliness disap-
peared, his clothes began to hang loosely upon
him, his colour fled, his face withered, and
his legs wasted into meagre shanks. Before
the end of the first twelve months he was
either unwilling or unable to move unassisted
from the old arm-chair, in which he sat from
morning to night, with his grey head drooping
over his breast ; and one evening, when Maudge
went to assist him to undress, she found he had
been for some time dead.
After the funeral Maudge removed with the
penniless orphan to a garret-room in the Salt-
market, where she endeavoured to earn for him
and herself the humble aliment of meal and salt
by working stockings, her infirmities and figure I
having disqualified her from the more profitable 1
industry of the spinning-wheel. In this condi-
tion she remained for some time, pinched with
poverty, but still patient with her lot, and pre-
serving a neat and decent exterior.
It was only in the calm of the summer Sabbath
evenings that she indulged in the luxury of a view
of the country ; and her usual walk on those
occasions, with Claud in her hand, was along the
brow of Whitehill, which perhaps she preferred
because it afforded her a distant view of the
scenes of her happier days ; and while she pointed
out to Claud
she exhortej
(Icavour to
new possess(
tion with soi
grandeur of
One after|
Provost Gorl
ance. The
circumstance
lady to choo
they had Ion
stately, corp
terial conseq
Mrs Gorb
yellow broca
flowers, the
exuberance
richness of
dress of cat,
blue satin w
in the gorj;
ladies of tii
abler limnei
The appe
his dignity;
garniture o
even had h
dignity, tb
determining
with at lei
peevishly
is knees,
liort and
3SS disap-
ely upon
red, and
Before
he was
nassibted
»at from
irooping
Maudge
he had
i^ith the
le Salt-
for him
ind salt
i figure
•ofitable
3 condi-
id with
id pre-
•abbath
' a view
I those
ng the
^ferred
yf the
ointed
THE ENTAIL 5
out to Claud tne hills and lands of his forefathers,
she exhorted him to make it his constant en-
deavour to redeem them, if possible, from their
new possessors, regularly concluding her admoni-
tion with some sketch or portrait of the hereditary
grandeur of his ancestors.
One afternoon, while she was thus engaged.
Provost Gorbals and his wife made their appear-
ance. The provost was a man in flourishing
circumstances, and he was then walking with his
lady to choose a site for a country-house which
they had long talked of building. They were a
stately, corpulent couple, well befitting the magis-
terial consequence of the husband.
Mrs Gorbals was arrayed in a stiff and costly
yellow brocade, magnificently embroidered with
flowers, the least of which was peony ; but the
exuberance of her ruflle cufls and flounces, the
richness of her lace apron, with the vast head-
dress of catgut and millinery, together with her
blue satin mantle, trimmed with ermine, are items
in the gorgeous paraphernalia of the Glasgow
ladies of tiiat time to which the pencil of some
abler limner can alone do justice.
The appearance of the provost himself became
his dignity, and corresponded with the affluent
garniture of his lady : it was indeed such that,
even had he not worn the golden chains of his
dignity, there would have been no difficulty in
determining him to be some personage dressed
with at least a little brief authority. Over the
6
THE ENTAIL
magisterial vestmento of black velvet lie wore a
new scarlet cloak, although tlie day had been one
of the sultriest in July ; and, with a lofty, conse-
quential air and an ample dis])lay of the cor-
poreal atMjuisition whch he had made at his own
and other well-furnished tables, he moved along,
swinging at every step his tall golden-headed
cane with the solemnity of a mandarin.
Claud was filled with wonder and awe at the
sight of such splendid examples of Glasgow pomp
and prosperity ; but Maudge speedily rebuked his
juvenile admiration.
" They're no worth the looking at," said she ;
" had ye but seen the last Leddy Kittlestonheugh,
your ain muckle-respeckit grandmother, and her
twa sisters, in their hench-hoops, with their fans
in their ban's (the three in a row would hae
soopit the whole breadth o' the Trongate), ye
would hae seen something. They were nane o'
your new-made leddies, but come o' a pedigree.
Foul would hae been the gait and drooking^
the shower that would hae gart them jook their
heads ^ intil the door o' ony sic thing as a Glasgow
bailie. Na, Claudie, my lamb : thou maun lift thy
een aboon the trash o' the town, and aye keep
mind that the hills are standing yet that might
hae been thy ain ; and so may they yet be, an
thou can but master the pride o' back and
^ Drooking. Drenching.
" Gart tucnijnok their heads. Caused them to jook or bend
their heads. Scotch lintels were low.
belly, and s|
the bravery
I yon Provost'
■ pride's yon' cj
y tlie morn t(
: n' gane to ]|
the divors ^
ruptcy."
:A
THE ENTAIL 7
belly, and seek for something mair solid than
the bravery o' sic a Solomon in all his glory as
von Provost Gorbals. Hech, sirs, what a kyteful o'
pride's yon'er ! And yet I would be nane surprised
the morn to hear that the Nebuchadnezzar was
a' gane to pigs and whistles, and driven out w^i'
the divors ^ bill to the barren pastures of bank-
ruptcy."
1 Divors. Bankrupt.
CHAPTER II
-tLFTER taking a stroll round the brow of the
hill, Provost Gorbals and his lady approached the
spot where Maudge and Claud were sitting. As
they drew near, the old woman rose, for she re-
cognised in Mrs Gorbals one of the former visitors
at Kittlestonheugh. The figure of Maudge her-
self was so remarkable that, seen once, it was
seldom forgotten, and the worthy lady, almost
at the same instant, said to the provost —
" Eh ! Megsty, gudeman, if I dinna think yon's
auld Kittlestonheugh's crookit bairnswoman. I
won'er what's come o' the laird, poor bodie, sin'
he was rookit by the Darien. Eh ! What an
alteration it was to Mrs Walkinshaw, his gude-
dochter. She was a bonnie bodie ; but frae the
time o' the sore news she croynt awa,^ and her
life gaed out like the snuff o' a can'le. Hey,
Magdalene Dobbie, come hither to me ; I'm
wanting to speak to thee ! "
Maudge, at this shrill, obstreperous summons,
leading Claud by the hand, went forward to the
lady, who immediately said —
^ Croynt awa. Crynit in : shrivelled up.
<' 1st t'ou
what's come
Maudge r^
in her eye, i|
'< Dead ! "
extraordinarj
end. ^Vhar
"We werj
comforted n
lady, " to c(
a decay o' nl
that was alul
died in a si
this helpless!
The provi
still looking]
tended man
and putting
" An' is tl
it's a vera p
passion on
a saxpence.
" Saxpen
lady ; " ye
to the lik
bound in
his lairdsh
Ye ken 1
1 Boupit.
being ruokit.
a Oe. Gr;
THE ENTAIL
9
V of the
lied the
ig. As
she re-
visitors
?e ]ier-
it was
almost
^ yon's
an. I
e, sin'
at an
gude-
le the
d her
Hey,
I'm
tions,
' the
I
" 1st t'oii aye in Kittlcstonhcu^li's service, and
^vllat's come o' him sin' his Ian' was loupit ^ ? "
Maud^e rej)lied respectfully, and with the tear
in her eye, that the laird was dead.
" Dead ! " exclaimed Mrs (jorl)als ; "that's very
extraordinare. I doubt he was ill off at his latter
end. Whar did he die, poor man ? "
" We were obligated," said Maudt^c, somewhat
comforted by the compassionate accent of the
lady, "to come intil Cllas^ow, where he fell into
a decay o' nature." And she added, with a si<;h
that was almost a sob, "'Deed it's vera true, he
died in a sair straitened circumstance, and left
this helpless laddie upon my hands."
The provost, who had in the meantime been
still looking about in quest of a site for his in-
tended mansion, on hearing this, turned round,
and putting his hand in his pocket, said —
" An' is this Kittlestonheugh's oe ^ } I'm sure
it's a vera pitiful thing o' you, lucky, to tak com-
passion on the orphan. Hae, my laddie, there's
a saxpence."
" Saxpence, gudeman ! " exclaimed the provost's
lady ; " ye'll ne'er even your han' wi* a saxpence
to the like of Kittlestonheugh, for sae we're
bound in nature to call him, landless though
his lairdship now be. Poor bairn, I'm wae for't !
Ye ken his mother was sib to mine by the
1 Roupit. Exposed for auction (when he was sold up after
being ruokit, or cleared out, by the Darien).
2 Oe. Grandson.
10
THE ENTAIL
fatlier's side, and l)lood's thicker tlian water ony
day."
Generosity is in some decree one of tlie necessary
qualifications of a (ilas^row nia;;istrate, and Provost
Gorbals, being as well endowed with it as any of
liis successors have been since, was not displeased
with the benevolent warmth of his wife, especially
when he understood that Claud was of their own
kin. On the contrary^ lie said affectionately —
" Really it was vera thoughtless o' me, Liezy,
my dear ; but ye ken I havena an instinct to
make me acquaint wi' the particulars of folk
before hearing about them. I'm sure no living
soul can have a greater compassion than mysel'
for gentle blood come to needcessity."
Mrs Gorbals, however, instead of replying to
this remark — indeed, what could she say ? for
experience had taught her that it was perfectly
just — addressed herself again to Maudge.
" And whar dost t'ou live ? and what hast t'ou
to live upon } "
" I hae but the mercy oi Providence," was the
humble answer of honest Maudge, "and a garret-
room in John Sinclair's Ian'. I ettle ^ as weel as
I can for a morsel by working stockings ; but
Claud's a rumbling ^ laddie, and needs mair than
I hae to gie him : a young appetite's a growing
evil in the poor's aught." ^
1 Ettlc. Strive.
^ Rumbling. Used here in reference to a "growing" appetite.
* Aught. Eyes.
The pro\|
each other,
" Gudem.)
It'll no fare
And Maul
bring Claud I
house in th
Gorbals, " t
do for him
we'll no k
think of ma
« No," re]
that. I wo I
I would \y<
how could I
help that t
gie I'll ace
almous is w
to seek, anc
weitrht and
able belyve
Both the
her spirit ;
of Maudge
constant k
lived, he ^
ness, but, c
discovered
had imagii
strained to
THE ENTAIL
11
lecessary
I J*rovost
IS any of
spk'ased
■ij)ecially
leir own
cly—
!, Liczy,
tinct to
of folk
3 living
mysel'
King to
ly? for
Jrfectly
ist t'ou
^as the
a^arret-
veel as
i ; but
r than
owing
)petite.
fs
The provost and his ^\•\fc looked kindly at
each other, and the latter added —
"CMidenian, ye maun do sonuthing for them.
It'll no fare the Avaur wi' our basket and our store."
And Maudge was in eonsecjuenee recjuested to
bring Claud with her that evening to the provost's
house in the Bridgegate. " I think," added Mrs
(iorbals, " that our Hughoc's auld elaes will just
do for him ; and, Maudge, keep a good heart :
we'll no let thee want. I won'er t'ou didna
think of making an application to us afore."
" No," replied the old woman, '' I could ne'er do
that. I would hae been in an unco strait before
I would liae begget on my own account ; and
how could I think o' disgracing the family ? Any
help that the Lord may dispose your hearts to
gie I'll accept wi' great thankfulness; but an
almous is what I hope He'll ne'er put it upon lae
to seek, and though Claud be for the present a
weight and burden, yet, an he's sparet, he'll be
able belyve ^ to do something for himsel'."
Both the provost and Mrs Gorbals commended
her spirit ; and, from this interview, the situation
of Maudge was considerably improved by their
constant kindness. Doubtless, had Mr Gorbals
lived, he would have assisted Claud into busi-
ness, but, dying suddenly, his circumstances were
discovered to be less flourishing than the world
had imagined, and his widow found herself con-
strained to abridge her wonted liberality.
1 Belyve. By times.
12
THE ENTAIL
Maudge, however, wrestled witn poverty as
well as sJie could till (laud had attained his
eleventh year, when she thou<^ht he was of a
sufficient capacity to do sometliin*^ for himself.
Accordingly, she intimated to Mrs Gorbals that
she hoped it would be in her power to help her
with the loan of a guinea to set him out in the
world with a pack. This the lady readily pro-
mised, but advised her to make ajiplication first
to his relation. Miss Christiana Heritage.
" She's in a bien circumstance," ^ said Mrs
Gorbals, "for her father, auld Windy wa's, left
her weel on to five hundred pounds, and her
cousin. Lord Killycrankie, ane of the fi^teen,^ that
aye stayed in our house when he rode the circuit,
being heir of entail to her father, allocs her the
use of the house, so that she's in a way to do
muckle for the laddie, if her heart were so in-
clined."
Maudge, agreeably to this suggestion, went
next day to Windywalls ; but we must reserve
our account of the mansion and its mistress to
enrich our next chapter, for Miss Christiana was,
even in our day and generation, a personage of
no small consequence in her own eyes : indeed,
for that matter, she was no less in ours, if we
may judge by the niche which she occupies in
the gallery of our recollection, after the lapse of
more than fifty years.
1 Bien circumstance. Well-to-do condition.
2 Ane of the fifteen. Lords of Session.
In the coi
commenced
that in aft
brated, out
Havers, ca
chariot to \
Heritage,
contemplat
ancient raii
fanc'^ of £
with a tall
dwarfish ar
carved in s
at each si
hood ascri
tors who
the High
On en
cended a
and lofty
in a dec
with lo/<
more tn
•verty as
iiied his
•IS of a
himself,
•lis tJiat
help her
t in tlie
ily pro-
ion first
id Mrs
i% left
nd her
1.2 that
circuit,
ler the
to do
so in-
went
eserve
3SS to
I Mas,
ge of
Jeed,
if we
es in
56 of
CHAPTER III
IN the course of the same sumVner in which we
commenced those grammar-school acquirements
that in after-hfe have been so deservedly cele-
brated, our revered relative, the late old Lady
Havers, carried us in her infinn dowagerian
chariot to pay her annual visit to Miss Christiana
Heritage. In the admiration with which we
contemplated the venerable mansion and its
ancient mistress, an indistinct vision rises in our
fancy of a large irregular whitewashed house,
with a tall turnj)ike staircase, over the low and
dwarfish arched door of which a huge cable was
carved in stone, and dropped in a knotted testoon
at each side. The traditions of the neighbour-
hood ascribed this carving to the Pictish sculp-
tors who executed the principal ornaments of
the High Kirk of Glasgow.
On entering under this feudal arch we as-
cended a spiral stair, and were shown into a large
and lofty room, on three sides of which, each far
in a deep recess, was a narrow -.vindow glazed
with lozens of yellow glass, that seemed scarcely
more transparent than horn. The walls were
13
14
THE ENTAIL
hung with tapestry, from which tremendous
forms, in warhke attitudes and with grim as-
pects, frowned in apparitional obscurity.
But of all the circumstances of a visit which
we must ever consider as a glimpse into the
presence-chamber of the olden time, none made
so deep and so vivid an impression upon our
young remembrance as the appearance and de-
portment of Miss Christiana herself. She had
been apprised of Lady Havers' coming, and was
seated in state to receive her, on a large settee
adorned with ancestral needlework. She rose
as our venerable relation entered the room.
Alas ! we have lived to know that we shall never
again behold the ceremonial of a reception half
so solemnly performed.
Miss Christiana was dressed in a courtly suit of
purple Genoese velvet. Her petticoat, spread by
her hoop, extended almost to arm's-length at
each side. The ruffle cuffs which hung at her
elbows, loaded with lead, were coeval with the
Union, having been worn by her mother when
she attended her husband to that assembly of the
States of Scotland which put an end to the in-
dependence and poverty of the kingdom. But
who, at this dtstance of time, shall presume to
estimate the altitude of the Babylonian tower of
toupees and lappets which adorned Miss Chris-
tiana's brow ?
It is probable that the reception which she
gave to poor Maudge and Claud was not quite so
ceremonious
of the visit
on hearing
tion against
juul setting
lected amonj
cient to ena\
for Claud,
had worked
i\ strap to sll
with a judicij
tracts, curtai|
a compendic
thimbles, staj
ballads and
shaw espousd
His excui
neighbouring
: gabby,2 he
jTOodwill of
of time few
better likec
he was the
His succt
tations of 1
might have
did, the ki
tionate old
1
2
3
THE ENTAIL
15
nendous
rn'm as-
t wJiicIi
^to the
e made
on our
nd de-
le had
id was
settee
5 rose
room,
never
I half
ceremonious as ours ; for the substantial benison
of the visit was but half-a-crown. Mrs Gorbals,
on hearing this, exclaimed with a just indigna-
tion against the near-be-gaun ^ Miss Christiana,
and setting herself actively to work, soon col-
lected among her acquaintance a small sum suffi-
cient to enable Maudge to buy and furnish a pack
for Claud. James Bridle, the saddlemaker, who
had worked for his father, gave him a present of
a strap to sling it over his shoulder ; and thus,
with a judicious selection of godly and humorous
tracts, curtain-rings, sleeve-buttons, together with
a compendious assortment of needles and pins,
thimbles, stay-laces and garters, with a bunch of
ballads and excellent new songs, Claud Walkin-
shaw espoused his fortune.
His excursions at first were confined to the
neighbouring villages, and as he was sly and
gabby,^ he soon contrived to get in about the
goodwill of the farmers' wives, and in process
of time few pedlars in all the west country were
better liked, though every one complained that
he was the dearest and the gairest.^
His success equalled the most sanguine expec-
tations of Maudge ; but Mrs Gorbals thought he
might have recollected, somewhat better than he
did, the kindness and care with which the affec-
tionate old creature had struggled to support him
1 Ncar-he-gaiin. Narrow, greedy.
2 Gabby. Here, subtle in the tongue.
* Gaircst. Greediest.
16
THE ENTAIL
in his helplessness. As often, however, as that
"warm-h carted lady inquired if he gave her any
of his winnings, Maudge was obliged to say, " I
hope, poor lad, he has more sense than to think
o' the like o' me. Isna he striving to make a
conquest of the lands of his forefathers ? Ye
ken he's come o' gentle blood, and I am nae
better than his servan'."
But although Maudge spoke thus generously,
still, sometimes, when she had afterwards become
bedrid, and was left to languish and linger out the
remnant of age in her solitary garret, comforted
only by the occasional visits and charitable atten-
tions of Mrs Gorbals, the wish would now and
then rise that Claud, when he was prospering
in the traffic of the Borders, would whiles think
of her forlorn condition. But it was the lambent
play of affection, in which anxiety to see him
again before she died was stronger than any other
feeling ; and as often as she felt it moving her to
repine at his inattention, she would turn herself
to the wall and implore the Father of Mercies to
prosper his honest endeavours, and that he might
ne'er be troubled in his industry with any thought
about such a burden as it had pleased Heaven to
make her to the world.
After having been bedria for about the space
of two years, Maudge died. Claud, in the mean-
time, was thriving as well as the prigging ^ wives
and higgling girls in his beat between the Nith
^ Pi'iggimj. Like hvjyling, beating down in a bargain.
and the Ty]
pedlar wh(
the Bordeii
sions such
thought b>j
country for
was actuate!
the former I
faithful his
the reader
dulge hime
absolute fa
parts of th
most profits
hospitable <
metical phi
VOL. I.
THE ENTAIL
17
', as that
her any
) say, "I
to think
make a
•s ? Ye
am nae
lerously,
become
out the
mforted
9 atten-
ow and
spering
5 think
imbent
Je him
Y other
her to
herself
cies to
might
lought
^en to
space
nean-
wives
Nith
I
and the Tyne would permit. Nor was there any
pedlar who was better known at the fairs of
the Border towns, or displayed on those occa-
sions such a rich assortment of goods. It was
thought by some that, in choosing that remote
country for the scene of his itinerant trade, he
was actuated by some sentiment of reverence for
the former consequence of his family. But, as
faithful historians, we are compelled to remind
the reader that he was too worldly wise to in-
dulge himself with anything so romantic : the
absolute fact being that, after tryiii^ many other
parts of the country, he found the Borders the
most profitable, ■ the inhabitants also the most
hospitable custo.iiers — no small item in the arith»
metical philosophy of a pedlar.
xn.
VOL. I.
B
ch_4:pter IV
-/jLBOUT twenty years after the death of Maudge,
Claud returned to Glasgow with five hundred
pounds alcove the world, and settled himself as
a cloth-merchant in a shop under the piazza of a
house which occupied part of the ground where
the Exchange now stands. The resolution, which
he had early formed, to redeem the inheritance
of his ancestors, and his old affectionate benefac-
tress had perhaps inspired as well as cherished,
was grown into a habit. His carefulness, his
assiduity, his parsimony, his very honesty, had
no other object nor motive ; it was the actuating
principle of his life. Some years after he had
settled in Glasgow, his savings and gatherings
enabled him to purchase the farm of Grippy, a
part of the patrimony of his fiimily.
The feelings of the mariner returning home,
when he again beholds the rising hills of his
native land, and the joys and fears of the father's
bosom, when, after a long absence, he approaches
the abode of his children, are tame and calm
compared to the deep and greedy satisfaction
with which the persevering pedlar received the
18
I etirth and st(|
cdUl and stei
In the sam(
worthy of til
iiient which,!
almost partal
solved to md
the property,!
ever have it
prudence wlj
a morsel, and
the same nij|
prospects of
scope of his
tions should
Hypel, the o
laird of Pleal;
They were
been led to '
occurred on
father was a
circuit ; for,
city, be bad
tenant that
heard of w
Claud to CO
much of his
" 1 bear,'
and profferi
ye hae gol
It's true so
THE ENTAIL
19
faudge,
undred
iself as
;za of a
where
which
I'itance
;nefac-
•ished,
his
had
latiiifr
had
'rings
py. a,
lome,
f his
her's
tches
calm
ition
the
enrlh and stone that gave him infeftment of tliat
cold and sterile portion of his forefathers' estate.
Ill the same moment he formed a rcsolntion
worthy of the sentiment he then felt — a senti-
ment which, in a less sordid breast, might have
almost partaken of the pride of virtne. He re-
solved to marry, and beget children, and entail
the property, that none of his descendants might
ever have it in their power to commit the im-
prudence which had brouglit his grandfather to
a morsel, and thrown himself on the world. And
the same night, after maturely considering the
prospects of all the heiresses within the probable
scope of his ambition, he resolved that his affec-
tions should be directed towards Miss Girzy
Hypel, the only daughter of Malachi Hypel, the
laird of Plealands.
They were in some degree related, and he had
been led to think of her from an incident which
occurred on the day he made the purchase. Her
father was at the time in Glasgow attending the
circuit ; for, as often as the judges visited the
city, he had some dispute with a neighbour or a
tenant that required their interposition. Having
heard of what had taken place, he called on
Claud to congratulate him on the recovery of so
much of his family inheritance.
" I hear," said the laird, on entering the shop,
and proffering his hand across the counter, " that
ye hae gotten a sappy bargain o' the Gri{)py.
It's true some o' the lands are but cauld ; hows-
20
THE ENTAIL
ever, cousin, ne'er fnsh your thumb : Glasgow's
on the tlirive, .and ye hae as many een in your
head for an advantage as onybody I ken. But
now that ye hae gotten a house, wha's to be the
leddy? I'm sure ye might do waur than casta
sheep's e'e in at our door ; my dochter Girzy's o'
your ain flesh and blood ; I dinna see ony moral
impossibility in her becoming, as the psalmist
says, 'bone of thy bone.' "
Claud replied in his wonted couthy manner —
" Nane o' your jokes, laird — me even mysel' to
your dochter ! Na, na, Plealands, that canna be
thought o' nowadays. But, no to make a ridi-
cule of sic a solemn concern, it's vera true that,
hadna my grandfather, when he was grown
doited,^ sent out a' the Kittlestonheugh in a
cargo o' playocks to the Darien, I might hae
been in a state and condition to look at Miss
Girzy ; but, ye ken, I hae a lang clue to wind
before I maun think o' playing the ba' wi' For-
tune, in ettling so far aboun my reach."
" SnuiFs o' tobacco ! " exclaimed the laird. " Are
nae ye sib to oursel's } And, if ye dinna fail by
your ain blateness,^ our Girzy's no surely past
speaking to. Just lay your leg, my man, ouer
a side o' horse-flesh, and come your ways, some
Saturday, to speer^ her price."
It was upon this delicate hint that Grippy was
1 Doited. Addle-patcd.
^ Blatcncss. Shyness, awkwardness.
3 Spccr. Ask.
^induced to tl|
incr that he \j
might get hi
visit until h^
neighbouring!
to say, a richj
with repulsivj
answers to hi]
as we have si
took legal po
to visit Plealj
might not b<
next day by
of his intent
receive him f
return of Johi
following, he
he was indue
tailor, a douc
the elders of
" Come yoi
lover; "I w
doing about i
"Doing, ?
our bairns' I:
rank and ca
Kirk o' Sco1
be after the
Lon'on, and
papistical na
Mr Walkins
THE ENTAIL
21
Glasgow's
11 in your
ien. But
to be the
lan cast a
Girzy's o'
3ny moral
psalmist
inner —
mysel' to
canna be
:e a ridi-
true that,
s grown
igh in a
ight hae
at Miss
to wind
wi' For-
"Are
fail by
sly past
m, ouer
'^s, some
3py was
induced to think of Miss Girzy Hypel ; but, find-
inic that he was deemed a fit match for her, and
might get her when he would, he deferred the
visit until he had cast about among the other
neighbouring lairds' families for a better (that is
to say, a richer) match. In this, whether he met
with repulsive receptions, or found no satisfactory
answers to his inquiries, is not quite certain ; but,
as we have said, in the same night on which he
took legal possession of his purchase, he resolved
to visit Plealands ; and, in order that the family
might not be taken unawares, he sent a letter
next day by the Ayr carrier to apprise the laird
of his intention, provided it was convenient to
receive him for a night. To this letter, by the
return of Johnny Drizen, the carrier, on the week
following, he received such a cordial reply that
he was induced to send for Cornelius Luke, the
tailor, a douce and respectable man, and one of
the elders of the Tron Kirk.
" Come your ways, Cornie," said the intending
lover ; " I want to speak to you anent what's
doing about the new kirk on the Green Knowe."
" Doing, Mr Walkinshaw ! It's a doing that
onr bairns' bairns will ne'er hear the end o' — a
rank and carnal innovation on the spirit o' the
Kirk o' Scotland," replied the elder. " It's to
be after the fashion o' some prelatic Babel in
Lon'on, and they hae christened it already by the
papistical name o' St Andrew — a sore thing that,
Mr Walkinshaw ; but the Lord has set His face
2 '2
THE ENTAIL
against it, and tlic builders thereof are smitten as
wi' a confusion o' tonijfues, in the lack o' siller
to fulfil their idolatrous intents — Blessed be Mis
name for evermore ! But wasna Mr Kilfuddy,
wha preached for Mr Anderson last Sabbath,
most sweet and delectable on the vanities of this
life, in his forenoon lecture ? And didna ye
think, when he spoke o' that seventh wonder o'
the world, the temple of Diana, and enlarged wi'
sic pith and marrow on the idolaters in Ephesus,
that he was looking ouer his shouther at Lowrie
Dinwiddie and Provost Aiton, who are no wrang't
in being wyted wi' i the sin o' this inordinate
superstructure ? Mr Walkinshaw, I'm nae pro-
phet, as ye weel ken ; but I can see that the
day's no far aff when ministers of the gospel in
Glasgow will be seen chambering and wantoning
to the sound o' the kist fu' o' whistles, wi' the
seven-headed beast routing its choruses at every
ouercome o' the spring."
Which prediction was in our own day and
generation to a great degree fulfilled. At the
time, however, it only served to move the pawkie
cloth-merchant to say —
" Nae doubt, Comie, the world's like the tod's -
whelp, aye the anlder the waur ; but I trust we'll
hear news in the land before the like o' that
comes to pass. Howsever, in the words of truth
and holiness, * sufficient for the day is the evil
thereof;' and let us hope that a regenerating
1 Wytcd wC. Accused of. 2 Tod's. Fox s.
' spirit may J
tliat all thi
up, root aiuj
" No : be|
'' Even of tl
a remnant
'^ That's
replied ClaJ
a bit blue ol
and the mo
won'er if yc
The rem;
ter, and Co
declared th
of darning,
very well."
to him, with
Friday; anc
complete a ^
as he told
Mr Walkins
"there was
ance ; a foi
this life ; a :
and peace,
endureth fc
" I'm blit
answer,
((
fc
penure pig
2 FMes.
THE ENTAir.
OS
smitten as
k o' siller
lhI he His
Kilfuddv,
Sabbath,
es of this
didiia }t
wonder o'
larged w i'
Ephesus,
=it Lowrie
o wrang't
nordinate
nae pro-
that the
gospel in
'^aiitoniiii:
wi' the
at every
day and
At the
5 pawkie
le tod's 2 I \
ust we'll I
o' that t
of truth I
the evil I
lerating
s})irit may go forth to the ends o' tlie earth, and
that all the sons of men will not be utterly cut
up, root and branch."
'^ No : be thankit," said Cornelius the tailor.
" Even of those that shall live in the latter days,
a remnant will be saved."
''That's a great comfort, Mr Luke, to us a',''
replied Claud. " But, talking o' remnants, I hae
a bit blue o' superfine ; it has been lang on hand,
and the moths are beginning to meddle wi't. I
won'er if ye could mak me a coat o't ?"
The remnant was then produced on the coun-
ter, and Cornelius, after inspecting it carefully,
declared that, " with the help of a steek or twa
of darning, that wouldna be percep, it would do
very well." The cloth was accordingly delivered
to him, with strict injunctions to have it ready by
Friday ; and with all the requisite et cceteras to
complete a coat, he left the shop greatly edified,
as he told his wife, by the godly salutations of
Mr Walkinshaw's spirit; "wherein," as he said,
"there was a kithing^ of fruit meet for repent-
ance ; a foretaste o' things that pertain not to
this life ; a receiving o' the erle - ^ of righteousness
and peace, which passeth all understanding, and
endureth for evermore."
" I'm blithe to heart," was the worthy woman's
answer, " for he's an even-down Nabal — a perfect
penure pig — that I ne'er could abide since he
2 Erles. Earnests. Bee N
Kithinr). Manifestation.
B, Sir Andrew Wi/lie.
24 THE ENTAIL
wouldna lend poor old Mrs Gorbals, the provost's
widow, that, they say, set him up in the world,
the sma' soom o' five pounds, to help her wi' the
outfit o' her oe when he was gaun to Virginia, u
clerk to Bailie Cross."
provost's
ic world,
3r wi' the
irginia, a
M
CHAPTER V
}} HEN Claud was duly equipped by Cornelius
Luke in the best fashion of that period for a bien
cloth-merchant of the discreet age of forty-seven,
a message was sent by his shop-lad, Jock Gleg,
to Rob Wallace, the horse-couper ^ in the Gallow-
gate, to have his beast in readiness next morning
by seven o'clock, the intended lover having, seve-
ral days before, bespoke it for the occasion.
Accordingly, at seven o'clock on Saturday
morning, Rob was with the horse himself at the
entry to Cochran's Land, in the Candleriggs,
where Claud then lodged ; and the wooer, in the
sprucest cut of his tailor, with a long silver-headed
whip in his hand, borrowed from his friend and
customer, Bailie Murdoch, attended by Jock Gleg,
carrying a stool, came to the close-mouth.
" I'm thinking, Mr Walkinshaw," said Rob the
horse-couper, " that ye wouldna be the waur of a
spur, an' it were only on the ae heel."
^ Horse-couper, Horse-dealer ; not necessarily applied io
one who makes up valueless horses for the market to cheat the
unwary-. " Cow couper" also is in U50 ; and in Kutherford^a
Letters " soul-coupers " occurs.
25
26
THE ENTAIL
"Wc maun do our ])est without that com-
modity, Rob/' replied Clautl, trying to crack his
whip in a gallant style, but unfortunately cutting;
his own leg through the dark blue rig-and-fiir
gamashins ^ ; — for he judiciously considered that,
for so short a journey, and that too on specula-
tion, it was not worth his while to get a pair
of boots.
Rob drew up the horse, and Jock having
placed the stool, Claud put his right foot in the
stirrup, at which Rob and some of the students
of the college, who happened to be attracted
to the spot, with divers others then and there
present, set up a loud shout of laughter, much
to his molestation. But surely no man is ex-
pected to know by instinct the proper way of
mounting a horse, and this was the first time
that Claud had ever ascended the back of any
quadruped.
When he had clambered into the saddle, Rob
led tlie horse into the middle of tlie street, and
thi I'cast, of its own accord, walked soberly
across the Trongate towards the Stockwell. The
conduct of the horse for some time was, indeed,
most considerate, and, in consequence, although
Claud hung heavily over his neck and held him
as fast as possible with his knees, he passed the
bridge, and cleared the buildings beyond, without
attracting in any particular degree the admiration
^ Rig-and-far gamaskins. Lcjj- protectors, worked ia a
rinbed fiishion.
of the pul
unguarded
thought it
and the hor|
to a trot,
exclaimed
through in I
time they r|
ing to see
and, notwit
nobly he p
that village
manner, ca
doors, and
bark and I
for't but 1
The noise
horseback,
every door
caps,
and
and cluste
the gener
on seeing
his vaulti
no less a
Glasgow.
Among
perceivinj
was accu!"
to encouv
THE ENTAIL
27
iiat com-
cmck Jiis
y ciittinjr
L,MincI-fnr
red that,
specula-
t a pair
Iiou^li
d ]
iini
m a
of the public towards his rider. But, in an
unguarded moment, the infatuated Claud rashly
tliought it necessary to employ the bailie's whip,
and the horse, so admonished, quickened his pace
to a trot. "Heavens, ca' they this riding!"
exclaimed Claud, and almost bit his tongue
tiirough in the utterance. However, by the
time they reached Cathcart it was quite surpris-
ing to see how well he worked in the saddle,
and, notwithstanding the continued jolting, how
nobly he preserved his balance ; but on entering
that village, all the dogs, in the most terrifying
manner, came rushing out from the cottage-
doors, and pursued the trotting horse with such
bark and bay that the })oor animal saw no other
for't but to trot from them faster and faster.
The noise of the dogs, and of a passenger on
horseback, drew forth the inhabitants, and at
every door might be seen beldams with flannel
caps, and mothers with babies in their arms,
and clusters of children around them. It was
the general opinion among all the spectators,
on seeing the spruce new clothes of Claud, and
his vaulting liorsemanshij), that he could be
no less a personage than the Lord Provost of
Glasgow.
Among them were a few country lads, who,
perceiving how little the rider's seat of honour
was accustomed to a saddle, had the wickedness
to encourage and e'fi;ir i on the dogs to attack the
' n
i/9'
U
rgo.
28
THE ENTAIL
horse still more furiously ; but, notwithstandinf^
their malice, Claud still kept his seat, until all
the dogs but one devil of a terrier had retired
from the pursuit. Nothing could equal the spirit
and pertinacity with which that implacable cur
hung upon the rear and snapped at the heels
of the horse. Claud, who durst not venture
to look behind lest he should lose his balance,
several times damned the dog with great sin-
cerity, and tried to lash him away with Bailie
Murdoch's silver-headed whip ; but the terrier
would not desist.
How long the attack might have continued
there is certainly no telling, as it was quickly
determined by one of those lucky hits of fortune
which are so desirable in life. The long lash of
the bailie's whip, in one of Claud's blind attempts,
happily knotted itself round the neck of the dog.
The horse, at the same moment, started forward
into that pleasant speed at which the pilgrims
of yore were wont to pass from London to the
shrine of St Thomas k Becket at Canterbury
(which, for brevity, is in vulgar parlance called
in consequence a ''canter"); and Claud dragged
the terrier at his whip-string end, like an angler
who has hooked a salmon that he cannot raise
out of the water, until he met with Johnny
Drizen, th** Ayr carrier, coming on his weekly
journey to Glasgow.
" Lordsake, Mr Walkinshaw ! " exclaimed the
t irrier as he drew his horse aside : " in the name
of the LorJ
ve're haulini
<' For the]
distressed
sion and pe|
of heaven si
The torn
which this
effect on tl
carrier that
of a philant
bridle-rings
down the >
lash, and mi
saddle, fell
the lustre aj
he soon re'
and tremble
bent forwar
utterly una
other posit
St Sebastia
suffered.
His first
Johnny, tl
created.
hae done i
e'er be abl
This CO
end to b\
which thr
THE ENTAIL
29
istandinf'
until all
d retired
the spirit
able cur
he heels
venture
balance,
■eat sin-
h Bailie
terrier
fitinued
quickly
fortune
lash of
empts,
le dog.
orward
ilgrims
to the
srbury
called
agged
mgler
raise
•hnny
eekly
I the
lame
of the Lord wliar are ye gaun, and what's that
vc're hauling ahint you ?"
" For the love of heaven, Johnny," replied the
distressed cloth-merchant, pale with apprehen-
sion and perspiring at every pore — " for the love
of heaven stop this desperate beast ! "
The tone of terror and accent of anguish in
which this invocation was uttered had such an
effect on the humanity and feelings of the Ayr
carrier that he ran towards Claud with the ardour
of a philanthropist, and seized the horse by the
bridle-rings. Claud, in the same moment, threw
down the whip, with the strangled dog at the
lash, and making an endeavour to vault out of the
saddle, fell into the mire, and materially damaged
the lustre and beauty of his new coat. However,
he soon regained his legs, but they so shook
and trembled that he could scarcely stand, as he
bent forward with his feet widely asunder, being
utterly unable for some time to endure in any
other position the pain of that experience of
St Sebastian's martyrdom Avhich he had locally
suffered.
His first words to the carrier were, '*^Man,
Johnny, this is the roughest brute that ever was
created. Twa dyers wi' their beetles couldna
hae done me mair detriment. I dinna think I'll
e'er be able to sit down again ! "
This colloquy, however, was speedily put an
end to by the appearance of a covered cart, in
which three ministers were returning from the
so
THE ENTAIL
Synod to tlicir respective parishes in Ayrshire, —
for at tliat time neither post-chaise nor stage-
coach was numbered amoiiiij the hixuries of
Glasgow. One of them hapj)ened to be the
identical Mr Kilfiiddv of Braehill who had lee-
tured so learnedly about the temple of Diana
on the preceding Sunday in the Tron Church,
and he, being accjuainted with Claud, said, as he
looked out and bade the dr.' er to stop, —
"Dear me, Mr Walkinshaw, but ye hae gotten
an unco coup ^ ! I hope nae banes are broken ? "
" No," re{)lied Claud a little pawkily, '^ no.
Thanks be and praise — the banes, I believe, are
a' to tlie fore — ; but it's no to be expressed what
I hae suffer't in the flesh."
Some further conversation then ensued, and
the result was most satisfactory ; for Claud was
invited to take a seat in the cart with the
ministers, and induced to send his horse back to
Rob Wallace by Johnny Di izen the carrier. Thus,
without any material augmentation of his cala-
mity, was he conveyed to the gate which led to
Plealands. The laird, who had all the morning
been anxiously looking out for him, on seeing the
cart approaching, left the house, and was stand-
ing ready at the yett - to give him welcome.
Coup. Fall.
2 Yctt. Gate.
Plealan
of a hill. It
been raised b;
pied the site
of which were
no great skill
change the o
ornaments, it
than properly
About as 1
altered from
too had bee
degree he m
dined from
he still inhei
sity of their
of national
being distin
books of se(
and of the C
to his consta
rights and ii
In his pe
Tshire,—
3r stage-
juries of
be the
had lec-
f Diana
Churchy
h as he
■ gotten
iken ? "
y, ''no.
eve, are
id what
^d, and
id was
h the
)ack to
Thus,
5 cala-
led to
orning
ig the
stand-
1
CHAPTER Yl
PlEALANDS house stood on the bleak brow
of a hill. It was not of great antiquity, having
been raised by the father of Malachi ; but it occu-
pied the site of an ancient fortalice, the materials
of which were employed in its construction, and as
no great skill of the sculptor had been exerted to
change the oriijinal form of the lintels and their
ornaments, it had an air of antiquity much greater
than properly belonged to its years.
About as much as the habitation had been
altered from its primitive character, the master
too had been modernised. But, in whatever
degree he may have been supposed to have de-
clined from the heroic bearing of his ancestors,
he still inherited, in unabated vigour, the animo-
sity of their spirit ; and if the coercive influence
of national improvement prevented him from
; being distinguished in the feud and foray, the
books of sederunt, both of the Glasgow circuit
and of the Court of Session, bore ample testimony
to his constancy before them in asserting supposed
rights and in vindicating supposed wrongs.
In his personal appearance Malachi Hypel had
39.
THE ENTAIL
but few pretensions to the gallant air and grace
of the gentlemen of that time. He was a coarse
hard-favoured, fresh-coloured carle, with a few
white hairs thinly scattered over a round bald
head. His eyes were small and grey, quick in
the glance and sharp in the expression. He
spoke thickly and hurriedly, and, although his
words were all very cogently strung together
there was still an unaccountable obscurity in the
precise meaning of what he said. In his usual
style of dress he was rude and careless, and he
commonly wore a large flat-brimmed blue bonnet
but on the occasion when he came to the gate to
receive Claud he had on his Sunday suit and hat,
After the first salutations were over he said to
Claud, on seeing him walking lamely and uneasily,
"What's the matter, Grippy, that ye seem sae
stiff and sair .f*"
"I met wi' a bit accident," was Claud's reply;
" Rob Wallace, the horse-couper, gied me sic a
deevil to ride as, I believe, never man before
mounted. I wouldna wish my sworn enemy a
greater ill than a day's journey on that beast's
back, especially an' he was as little used to riding
as me."
The latter clause of the sentence was muttered
inwardly, for the laird did not hear it ; otherwise
he would probably have indulged his humour a
little at the expense of his guest, as he had a sort
of taste for caustic jocularity, which the hirpling^
^ Hirpling. Limping.
uKinncr of Cl|
latcd to prove
On reachii]
where the ho|
was emphatic
cottars, with
(luced to the]
pale, pensive,
by the laird
not thoroughl
a polite and
certainly was
business, and
any virgin pa
the contrary,
freedom of an
It might h
should descril
; and the grac
degree she p(
to reach the (
; in unsolicited
\ of all the pre
\ around her, s
I impression oi
he himself c
I we expatiat
i manners an(
\ themselves,
ensued.
THE ENTAIL
and grace
s a coarse
th a fev
3und bald
quick in
sion. H
lough his
together,
•ity in the
his usual
s, and he
B bonnet ;
G gate to
and hat,
le said to
uneasily,
seem sae
33
's reply;
ne sic a I
1 before
Jnemy a
'■ beast's
o riding
luttered
herwise
mour a
d a sort
rpHng ^
■•?
manner of Claud was at the moment well calcu-
lated to provoke.
On reaching the brow of the rising ground
wliere the house stood,, the leddy, as Mrs Hypel
was emphatically called by the neighbouring
cottars, with Miss Girzy, came out to be intro-
duced to their relative. Whether the leddy — a
pale, pensive, delicate woman — had been informed
by the laird of the object of Claud's visit we do
not thoroughly know ; but she received him with
a polite and friendly respectfulness. Miss Girzy
certainly was in total ignorance of the whole
business, and was, therefore, not embarrassed with
any virgin palpitations or blushing anxieties. On
tlie contrary, she met him with the ease and
freedom of an old acquaintance.
It might here be naturally expected that we
should describe the charms of Miss Girzy 's person
and the graces of her mind ; but, in whatever
degree she possessed either, she had been allowed
to reach the discreet years of a Dumbarton youth
in unsolicited maidenhood. Indeed, with the aid
of all the prospective interest of the inheritance
around her, she did not make quite so tender an
impression on the heart of her resolved lover as
he himself could have wished. But why should
we expatiate on such particulars ? Let the
manners and virtues of the family speak for
tliemselves, while we proceed to relate what
ensued.
VOL. I. C
CHAPTER VII
vTIRZY," said the laird to his daughter as thoy
entered the dining-room, '^ gae to thy bed and
bring a cod ^ for Mr Walkinshaw, for he'll no can
thole ^ to sit down on our hard chairs."
Miss Girzy laughed as she retired to execute
the order, while her mother continued, as she had
done from the first introduction, to inspect Claud
from head to foot, with a curious and something
of a suspicious eye ; there was even an occasional
flush that gleamed through the habitual pale-
ness of her thoughtful countenance, redder and
warmer than the hectic glow of mere corporeal
indisposition. Her attention, however, was soon
drawn to the spacious round table in the middle
of the room, by one of the maids entering with
a large pewter tureen, John Drappie, the man-
servant, having been that morning sent on some
caption and horning ^ business of the laird's to
Gabriel Beagle, the Kilmarnock lawyer. But, as
the critics hold it indelicate to describe the
details of any refectionary supply, however
1 Cod . . . thole. Pillow . . . endure.
* Ca'ption and horning. See Note A. Sir Andrew WvUc
J4
tk'j^ant, we
series and suc|
crowned the
as ])late. Oi
aid of their o^
various forms]
of the sheep
occasion werej
savoury, sapp]
hen, the floa
punch-bowl, j
supplied the
puddings.
By the til
Girzy had re
herself placec
and patting it
"Come rou
ye'U fin' this
what it is to
when I gaed
hanged at A
just as if I ha
When the
had retired, 1
in«r his arm
and shaking
"Weel, G
see you hei
1(4
THE ENTAIL
',ir>
r as they
bed and
'U no can
) execute
s she had
set Claud
3methin<j
ccasional
Jal pale-
Ider and
corporeal
vas soon
5 middle
ng with
^e man-
on some
lird's to
Cut, as
be the
lowever
tlef]fant, we must not presume to enumerate the
st'iit's and succession of Scottish fare which soon
crowned the board, all served on pewter as bright
as })late. Our readers must endeavour, by the
aid of their own fancies, to form some idea of the
various forms in which the head and harigals ^
of the sheep that had been put to death for the
occasion were served up, not forgetting the sonsy,
savoury, sappy haggis, together with the gude fat
hen, the float whey, which, in a large china
punch-bowl, graced the centre of the table, and
supplied the place of jellies, tarts, tartlets, and
puddings.
By the time the table was burdened Miss
Girzy had returned with the pillow, which she
herself placed in one of the arm-chairs, shaking
and patting it into plumpness, as she said —
"Come round here, Mr Walkinshaw. I trow
ye'U fin' this a saft, easy seat. Weel do I ken
what it is to be saddle-sick mysel'. Lordsake !
when I gaed in ahint my father to see the robber
hanged at Ayr, I was for mair than three days
just as if I had sat doun on a heckle." ^
When the cloth was removed and the ladies
had retired, the laird opened his mind by stretch-
ing his arm across the table towards his guest,
and shaking him again heartily by the hand —
"Weel, Grippy," said he, "but I'm blithe to
see you here ; and, if I'm no mista'en, Girzy
^ Harigcds. The pluck.
2 HcfLU'. A flux-dressing- comb.
36 THE ENTAIL
will no be ill to woo. Isna she a coothy ^ «tiul
kind creature ? She'll make you a (•a|)ital witt
There's no anot' •■: Uie parish that kens better
how to manage uouse. Man, it would do your
heart gude to hear Iiow she rants among tlu-
servan'-lasses — lazy sluts that would like nothiiii;
better than to live at heck and manger, and brin^r
their master to a morsel. But I trow Girzy gars
them keep a trig^ house and a birring wheel."
"No doubt, laird," replied Claud, "but it's a
comfort to hae a frugal woman for a helpmate;
but ye ken nowadays it's no the fashion for
bare legs to come thegither. The wife maun hae
something to put in the pot as well as the man ;
and although Miss Girzy mayna be a'thegither
objectionable, yet it would still be a pleasant
thing, baith to hersel' and the man that gets
her, an' ye would just gie a bit inkling o' what
she'll hae."
" Isna she my only dochter ? That's a proof
and test that she'll get a'. Naebody needs to
be teld mair."
" Vera true, laird," rejoined the suitor ; " but
the leddy's life's in her lip, and if onything were
happening to her, ye're a hale man, and wha
kens what would be the upshot o' a second
?"
That's looking far ben," replied the laird ;
and he presently added more briskly, *' My wife,
^ Coothii. Here used as meaning affectionate.
2 Trvj. Orderly.
marriage
<(
[to be sure, is
that 'ill traikd
In this del
tiire to a purj
iiu)t to dwell
[that, in the
[thereafter, M
Leddy of (Jr
her husband
tized by the i
When the
hiird, he rode
his son-in-law
were sitting t
to the fashion
of the garde'
sound him oi
heart.
" Laird," sa
KittlestonheU;
but for the c
sending my fi
Darien, the hi
i should this da
\ put it out o' t
I sic wastrie ap
of the Gripp
I " That's a y
1 Gear that HI
i< very durable, an
^ many lives whicl
f ,i
I f
THE ENTAIL
S7
to be sure, is a frail woman, but she's no the ^ear
that 'ill traike." ^
In this delicate and considerate way the over-
ture to a pur])ose of niarriai^e was opened ; and,
not to dwell on particulars, it is suflicient to say
tliat, in the course of little more than a month
tlicrcafter. Miss Girzy was translated into the
Leddy of Grippy ; and in due season presented
licr husband with a son and heir, who was bap-
tized by the name of Charles.
When the birth was connnunicated to the
laird, he rode expressly to Grippy to congratulate
his son-in-law on the occasion ; and, when they
were sitting together in the afternoon, according
to the fashion of the age, enjoying the contents
of the gardevin entire, Claud warily began to
sound him on a subject that lay very near his
heart.
" Laird," said he, " ye ken the Walkinshaws of
Kittlestonheugh are o' a vera ancient blood, and
but for the doited prank o' my grandfather, in
sending my father on that gouk's errand to the
Darien, the hills are green and the land broad that
I should this day hae been mine ; and, therefore, to
I put it out o' the power of posterity to play at any
isic wastrie again, I mean to entail the property
of the Grippy."
I "That's a very good conceit," replied the laird,
^ Gear that 'ill traike. The saying is applied to one who is
very durable, and often to one whose life is worth less than
many lives which are soon lost.
38
THE ENTAIL
" ami I hae rnvsel* had a notion of cntailin:j: the
Plcnlands likewise."
"So I hae heard you say," rejoin(>d Claud;
"and now that the hairn's born, and a laddie tdo,
we may make ae work o't."
" VVi' a' my heart," rej)licd the laird ; "nothin;
can be more a«]freeable to me ; but as I wisli
to preserve the name of my family, than whilk
there's no a more respectit in Scotland, I'll onlv
covenant that, when Charlie succeeds me, he'li
take the name o' Hypel."
" Ye surely, laird, would ne'er be so unreason-
able," replied Grippy, a little hastily; "ye car
ne'er be sae unreasonable as to expect that the
lad would gie up his father's name, the name o
Walkinshaw, and take only that of Hypel."
"'Deed would I," said the laird; "for nn
haeing a son o* my own to come after me, it's
surely very natural that I would like the Hypels
to kittle again in my oe ^ through my only
dochter."
"The Walkinshaws, I doubt," replied Claud
emphatically, "will ne'er consent to sic an eclipse
as that."
"The lands of Plealands," retorted the laird,
"are worth something."
" So it was thought, or I doubt the heir o't
wouldna hae been a Walkinshaw," replied Claude
still more pertinaciously.
" Weel, weel," said the laird, "dinna let us
1 Kittle . . . ue. Generate . . . grandson.
1'llE ENTAIL
39
itailiii'r then arj^ol-bar^ol about it. Entail your own propiTty
H'd Claud:
laddie l(„
; "nothiiij
J
as I Mi si;
;is
han wliii:,
d, I'll only
i me, he'Ii
unreason-
; ''ye car.
t that the
e name o
el."
"for no
r me, it's
le Hypels
my onlv
ed Claud
an eclipse
the laird,'
; heir o'trl
3d Claud,
la let us
on.
ye
■\vi
11,
ni
ine shall he on the second son
vc can ne'er object to that."
"Second son, and the first scarce sax days
auld ! I tell you what it is, an' ye'U no make
the entail or the first, that is, on Charlie W'alkin-
shaw, — to be Walkinshaw, mind that, — I'll no
say what may happen in the way o' second
sons."
"The Plealands' mv ain, and thou£rh I canna
weel will it awa', and ne'er will sell't, yet, get
it wha will, he maun tak the name o' Hypel.
The thing's sae settled, CJrippy, and it's no for
you and me to cast out about it."
Claud made seyeral attem})ts to reyive the
subject, and to persuade the laird to change his
mind ; but he was inflexible. Still, however, being
resolved, as far as in him lay, to anticipate the
indiscretion of his heirs, he executed a deed of
entail on Charles ; and for a considerable time
after, the laird was not a little confirmed in his
determination not to execute any deed in favour
of Charles, but to reserve his lands for the second
son, by the very reason that might have led an-
other sort of person to act differently — namely,
that he understood there was no jjrospect of any
such appearing.
Towards the end, however, of the third year
after the birth of Charles, Claud communicated to
the laird that, by some unaccountable disj)ensa-
tion, Mrs Walkinshaw was again in the way to be
40
THE ENTAIL
a mother, adding, '^Noo, laird, yc'll hae your ain
way o't ; " and accordinirly, as soon as Walter, the
second son, was born and baptized, tlic lands of
Plealands were entailed on him, on condition, as
his grandfather intended, that he should assume
the name of Hypel.
CHAPTER VIII
1^ OR several years after the birth of Walter no
event of any consequence happened in the affairs
(f Claud. He continued to persevere in the j)ar-
sinionious system which had so far advanced his
fortune. His vi^ife was no less industrious on her
part ; for, in the meantime, she presented him
witli a daughter and another son, and had reared
calves and grumphies innumerable, the profit of
which, as she often said, was as good as the
meal and malt o' the family. By their united
care and endeavours, Grippy thus became one of
the wealthiest men of that age in Glasgow ; but
although different desirable opportunities pre-
sented themselves for investing his money in
other and more valuable land, he kept it ever
ready to redeem any portion of his ancestral estate
that might be offered for sale.
The satisfaction which he enjoyed from his
accumulative prospects was not, liowever, without
a mixture of that anxiety with wiiich the cup
of human prosperity, whether really full or only
foaming, is always embittered. The laird, his
father-in-law, in the deed of entail which he
41
42
THE ENTAIL
executed of the Plealands, had reserved to liiin-
self a power of revocation, in the event of his
wife dying before him in the first instance, and
of Walter and George, the two younger sons of
Grippy, either dying under age or refusing to
take the name of Hypel, in the second. This
power, both under the circumstances and in
itself, was perfectly reasonable ; and perhaps it
was the more vexatious to the meditations of
Claud that it happened to be so. For he often
said to his wife, as they sat of an evening by the
fireside in the dark — for, as the leddy was no
seamstress and he had as little taste for litera-
ture, of course, they burned no candles when by
themselves, and that was almost every night, — " I
marvel, Girzy, what could gar your father put
that most unsafe claw in his entail. I wouldna
be surprised if out o' it were to come a mean of
taking the property entirely frae us. For ye see,
if your mither was dead — and, poor woman, she
has lang been in a feckless ^ way — there's no
doubt but your father would marry again ; and,
married again, there can be as little doubt that
he ■•yould hae childer ; so what then would be-
come o' ours ? "
To this the worthy leddy of Grippy would as
feelingly reply —
" I'm thinking, gudeman, that ye needna tak
the anxieties sae muckle to heart ; for, although
my mither has been, past the memory o' man, in
1 Feckless. Frail.
a complain
this many
it makes h^
mair confid
than in m;
ourselves
o' the deatl
''But tlj
other claw I
noo, that t
when we
like nature
the hands <
hardest th
for Charlie
of a cabbii
quest ? Bi
spare Watt
a braw pr
creature t
1 he lives t
; l^iil to tak(
i '< I won
the leddy
I'm sure
ither bail
lilting lik
to night,
farm, riv
THE ENTAIL
43
ed to liimJ
i^ent of his I
stance, and ,
^er sons of
•efusing to
5nd. Tliis
s and in
perhaps it
itations of
[• he often
ng by the
y was no
for litera-
when by
ight,— "I
ther put
wouldna
mean of
>r ye see,
man, she
ere's no
in ; and,
ubt that
3uld be-
a complaining condition, I ken nae odds o' her
this many a year. Her ail's like water to leather :
it makes her life the tougher ; and I would put
niair confidence in the durability of her com})laint
than in my father's health. So we needna fash
ourselves wi' controverting anent what may come
o' the death o' either the tane or the tither."
" But then," replied Claud, '^ ye forget the
other claw about Watty and Geordie. Supposing,
noo, that they were baith dead and gone, which,
when we think o' the frush green-kail custock-
like nature ■ of bairns, is no an impossibility in
the hands of their Maker — will it no be the most
hardest thing that ever was seen in the world
for Charlie no to inherit the breadth o* the blade
of a cabbage o' a' his father's matrimonial con-
(juest ? But even should it please the Lord to
spare Watty, is't no an afflicting thing to see sic
a braw property as the Plealands destined to a
creature that I am sure his brother Geordie, if
he lives to come to years o' discretion, will no
fail to take the law o' for a haverel ? "
" I won'er to hear you, gudeman," exclaimed
the leddy, "aye mislikening Watty at that gait.
I'm sure he's as muckle your ain as ony o' the
ither bairns ; and he's a weel-tempered laddie,
lilting like a linty at the door-cheek frae morning
to night, when Charlie's rampauging - about tlie
farm, riving his claes on bush and brier a' the
1 As fresh (brittle) as the pith of colewort.
^ llampauijiiiij. Konipmg.
44
THE ENTAIL
summer, tormenting the birds and mawkins out
o' their vera Hfe."
"Singing, Girzy ! I'm really distressed to hear
you/' replied the father, " to ca' yon singing ; it's
nothing but lal, ial, lal, lal, \vi' a bow and a bend,
backwards and forwards, as if the creature hadna
the gumshion ^ o' the cuckoo, the whilk has a
note mair in its sang, although it has but twa."
" It's an innocent sang for a' that ; and I wish
his brothers may ne'er do waur than sing the like
o't. But ye just hae a spite at the bairn, gude-
man, 'cause my father has made him the heir to
the Plealands. That's the gospel truth o' your
being so fain to gar folk trow ^ that my Watty's
daft."
" Ye're daft, gudewife ; arena we speaking here
in a rational manner anent the concerns o' our
family ? It would be a sair heart to me to think
that Watty, or any o' my bairns, werena like the
lave o' ^ the warld ; but, ye ken, there are degrees
o* capacity, Girzy, and Watty's, poor callan, we
maun alloo between oursels, has been meted by
a sma' measure."
" Weel, if ever I heard the like o' that ! If the
Lord has dealt the brains o' our family in mutch-
kins and chapins,^ it's my opinion that Watty got
his in the biggest stoup ; for he's further on in
^ Gumshion. Sense.
(kir folk trow. Cause people believe.
3 The lave o'. The rest of.
■* Lic^uid measures, Scots.
I
every sort (1
his questioJ
■ What is fo|
And I ne'(
beyond ' ^^
no deny, h(
but that a'l
being so v^
*' That's
me," replie
onything b
a book, for
him, and ht
But it's sor
: father wouj
make awayj
punished in
"Gude ^
bairn?" exc
the man's f
'^ to speak o'
than a stirl
wrang my
body; so,
" Girzy,
" Guder
"Weel,
the benef
Claud; "i
one anoth
1 Frii. ^
THE ENTAIL
45
^k
ms out
(I to Iiear
,nnir; it's
1 a bend,
re liadna
Ik has a
twa."
J I wisli
the like
n, gude-
■ heir to
o' your
Watty's
ng here
o' our
5 think
ike the
legrees
an, we
ted by
If the
lutch-
tygot
«
every sort of education than Ciiarlie, and can say
his questions without missing a word, as far as
• What is forbidden in the tentli commandment ? '
And I ne'er hae been able to get his brother
beyond ' What is effectual calling ? ' Though, I'll
no deny, he's better at the Mother's Carritches ;
but that a' comes o' the questions and answers
being so vera short."
*' That's the vera thing, Girzy, that disturbs
me," replied the father ; '' for the callan can get
onything by heart, but, after all, he's just like
a book, for everything he ^uirns is dead within
him, and he's ne'er a prin's worth the wiser o't.
But it's some satisfaction to me that, since your
father would be so unreasonably obstinate as to
make away the Plealands past Charlie, he'll be
punished in the gouk he's chosen for heir."
" Gude guide us ! Isna that gouk your ain
bairn?" exclaimed the indignant mother. " Surely
the man's fey ^ about his entails and his properties,
to speak o' the illess laddie, as if it were no better
than a stirk or a stot. Ye'll no hae the power to
wrang my wean while the breath o' life's in my
body ; so, I redde ye, tak tent to what ye try."
"Girzy, t'ou has a head, and so has a nail."
Gudeman, ye hae a tongue, and so has a bell."
Weel, weel, but what I was saying a' concerns
the benefit and advantage o' our family," said
Claud ; " and ye ken, as it is our duty to live for
one another, and to draw a' thegither, it behr)ves
^ Frii. Mild, with a madness prophetic of an early deatli.
(( I
(C
4()
THE ENTAIL
us twa, as parents, to see that ilk is properly
yokit ; ^ sin' it would surely l)e a «>reat misfortunt
if, after a' our frugality and gathering, the cart
were cowpit in the dirt at last by ony neglect on
our part."
"That's aye what ye say," replied the lady, —
"a's for the family, and nothing for the 'dividual
bairns. Noo, that's what I can never understand,
for isna our family Charlie, Watty, Geordie, and
Meg— } "
" My family," said Claud emphatically, "was the
Walkinshaws of Kittlestonheugh ; and let me tell
you, Girzy Hypel, if it hadna been on their account,
there would ne'er hae been a Charlie nor a Watty
either between you and me to plea about."
" I'm no denying your parentage — I ne'er said
a light word about it ; but I canna comprehend
how it is that ye would mak step-bairns o' your
ain blithesome childer on account o* a wheen auld
dead patriarchs that hae been rotten, for aught I
ken to the contrary, since before Abraham begat
Isaac."
" Haud thy tongue, woman, baud thy tongue !
It's a thrashing o' the water and a raising o'
bells to speak to ane o* thy capacity on things
so far aboon thy understanding. Gae but the
house,2 and see gin the supper's ready."
In this
Grippy an^^l
their naturj
rupture tha
cominarid,
mission, du|
bickering
1 Ynkit. Yoked.
2 lint the house. The kitchen. In cottages in Scotland as
a rule there wore two rooms only : the " but" (the outer) and
the " ben " (the inner).
THK ENTAIL
47
5 properlv
"nisfortuiK
, the cart
leglect on
e lady,—
'dividual
derstand^
rdie, and
In this manner the conversations between
Grippy and his leddy were usually conducted to
their natural issue, a quarrel, which ended in a
• rupture that was only healed by a j)eremptory
command, which sent her uu some household
mission, during the performance of which the
bickering was forgotten.
e(
was the
t me tell
account,
a Watty
e'er said
preliend
o' your
;en auld
aught I
n begat
ongue !
sing o'
things
•ut the
tland as
ter) and
"^^P"
'^.- ':;*»'«<■
CHAPTER IX
JLN the meantime as much friendhness and
intercourse "was maintained between the famihes
( " Grippy and Plealands as could reasonably be
expe^cted from the characters and dispositions of
the respective inmates. Shortly, however, after
the conversation related in the preceding chapter
had taken place, it happened that, as Malachi
was returning on horseback from Glasgow, when
he had lost a lawsuit, long prosecuted with tlic
most relentless pertinacity against one of his
tenants, he was overtaken on the Mearns Moor
by one of those sudden squalls and showers which
the genius of the j)lace so often raises, no doubt
purposely to conceal from the weary traveller
the dreariness of the view around ; and being
wetted into the skin, the cold which he caught
in consequence, and the irritation of his mind,
brought on a fever that terminated fatally on
the fifth day.
His funeral was conducted according to the
fashion f f the age ; ^ but the day appointed was
raw, windy, and sleety, — not, however, so much
^ See Note A, Annals of the Fairish.
48
|so as to pi
from flocking
bl;i,i;e that a|
be iniagined|
attendance
jrentry were
every room
aiul deals fori
the tenantr^i
clanjamphry
—assembled
The laird
and free ho
acquaintance
nor want at
services of i
niiests was i
and tobacco-
adulterated b
were distribii
_ tliose in the 1
; Mr Kill lid
j to the gent
elders, in lik
in the other
venture to ;
company out
l)odleton, h;
• he did hims
produced ai
VOL. I.
less and
2 families
nably be
sitions of
'er, after
^ chapter
Malacln
Wj where
ivith tile
: of his
ns Moor
rs whieli
doubt
raveller
1 bein^
caught
mind,
ally on
to the
ed was
> niueli
THE ENTAIL
49
so ns to prevent the friends of the deceased
from flocking in from every quarter. The assem-
jbl.ige that arrived far transcended all that can
be imagined, in these economical days, of the
attendance requisite on any such occasion. The
•rcntry were shown into the dining-room, and into
1 every room that could be fitted up with planks
and deals for their reception. The barn received
tlie tenantry, and a vast nudtitude — the whole
(•lMiijam})hry ^ from all the neighbouring parishes
— assembled on the green in front of the house.
The laird in his lifetime maintained a r .igh
and free hospitality ; and, as his kindred ai i
acquaintance expected, there was neither ncnnt
nor want at his burial. The profusion of the
services of seedcake and Avine to th(^ indoor
<inests was in the liberalest spirit of t. . time;
and tobacco-pipes, shortbread, and brandy, un-
adulterated by any immersion of the ganger's rod,
wvYC distributed with unmeasured abundance to
those in the barn and cm the green.
Mr Killiiddy, the parish minister, said grace
to the gentry in the dining-room ; and the
elders, in like manner, performed a similar part
in the other rooms. We arc not sure if we may
venture to assert that gr;ice Avas said to the
coinpan}' out of doors. Mr Taws, the dominie of
Bodleton, has indeed repeatedly declared that
he did himself ask a blessing; but he has never
1 produced any other evidence that was satis-
^ Clnnjamphry. Crew,
vol.. I. D
50
THE ENTAIL
factory to us. Indeed, ^liat with the drinkinrr^
the blast, and the sleet, it was not reasonable
to expect that much attention would be paid to
any prayer ; and, therefore, we shall not insist
very particularly on this point.
The Braehill churchyard was at a considerable
distance from Plealands House, and hearses nut
being then in fashion in that part of the country,
one of the biird's own carts was drawn out, and the
coffin placed on it for conveyance, while the services
were going round the conijjany. How it hap-
pened — whether owing to the neglect of Thomas
Cabinet, the wright, who acted the part of under-
taker, and had, with all his men, more to attend
to than he could well manage in supplying the
multitude with refreshments, or whether John
Drappie, the old servant that was to drive the
cart, had, like many others, got a service over-
much, — we need not pause to inquire : — it, how-
ever, so happened that, by some unaccountable
and never- explained circumstance, the whole
body of the assembled guests arranged them-
selves in funereal array as well and as steadily
as the generality of them could, and proceeded
towards the churchyard, those in the van believ-
ing that the cart with the coffin was behind,
and their followers in the rear committing a
similar mistake, by supposing that it was before
them in front. Thus both parties, in ignorance
of the simple fact that the coffin and cart were
still standing at the house-door, proceeded, with
as much gt
churchyard
jreiitlcmen
left, to opj
hroui^dit u|j
also, that til
tiie intenHe]
as ])ossible.
By this i\
the morn in
quite tempe
and hedges
a blinding
pany reach(
them were ^
another serv
round on th
ber liberalb
' soon rendcn
} wind as whc
; when the p
I Thomas Cal
I with the col
I towards the
I of less deco
I Nay, there
I than two or
I selves, perl
blast, eith€
accord on
wind.
THE ENTAIL
51
! drinkiiu',
reasonahlf
l)e paid to
not insist
insidera])lt'
earses not
e country,
it, and tlu;
be services
w it Iiap.
if Thomas
of undcr-
to attend
•lying the
her John
drive the
ice over-
-it, hoM-
ountahle
lie whole I
d them- |
steadily
roceeded
n beHev-
behind,
itting a P
s before I
;;norance
irt were
dd, with
as much gravity and decorum as possibh*, to the
c'liurchyard gate, wiiere they halted. As the
(rciitlcmen in front fell back to the right and
kit, to open an avenue for the bod}' to be
l)r()Ught up, tlie omission was discovered, and,
also, that there was no other way of })erforming
the interment but by returning, as expeditiously
as possible, to the house for the body.
By this time the weather, which had been all
the morning cold and blustering, was become
quite temj)estuous. The wind raved in the trees
and hedges ; the sleet was almost thickened into
a blinding snow, insomuch that when the com-
pany reached the house the greater number of
them were so chilled that they stood in need of
another service, and another was of course handed
round on the green, — of which the greater num-
her liberally and freely partaking, they were
soon rendered as little able to wrestle against the
wind as when they originally set out. However,
when the procession was formed a second time,
Thomas Cabinet taking care to send the cart
with the cofHn on before, the whole moved again
towards the churchyard, it is said, with a degree
of less decorum than in their former procession.
Nay, there is no disguising the fact that more
than two or three of the company, finding them-
selves, perhaps, unable to struggle against the
blast, either lay down of their own voluntary
accord on the road or were blown over by the
wind.
THE ENTAIL
When the procession liarl a second time reached
the churciiyard, and ^rhomas Cabinet, perspiring
at every pore, was wipin/if his bald liead with liis
coat-sleeve, his men got the coffin removed from
the cart and placed on the spokes, and the
relatives, according to their respective degrees
of propinquity, arranged themselves to carry it.
The bearers, however, either by means of the
headstones and the graves over which their patii
lay or by some other cause, walked so unevenly
that those on the one side pushed against their
corresponding kindred on the other in such a
manner that the coffin was borne rollingly alon<^
for some time, but without any accident, till the
relations on the right side gave a tremendous
lurch, in which they drew the spokes out of the
hands of the mourners on the left, and the
whole pageant fell with a dreadful surge to the
ground.
This accident, however, was soon rectified ;
the neighbours, who were not bearers, assisted
the fallen to rise, and Thomas Cabinet, with his
men, carried the coffin to its place of rest, and
having laid it on the two planks which were
stretched across the grave, assembled the nearest
kin around, and gave the cords into their hands,
that they might lower the laird into his last bed.
The betheral and his assistant then drew out the
planks, and the sudden jerk of the coffin, when
they were removed, gave such a tug to those who
had hold of the cords that it pulled them down,
head forenj
iiately, ho\j
i„r, by dini
spot, the lij
ti) rctiirn t(
and as \\ix\n
THE ENTAIL
53
le reached
rierspiriinr
I with his
►ved from
and the
! decrees
carry it.
s of the
heir path
uneven h'
nst their
1 such a
lly alon<r
, till the
mendous
It of the
and the
e to the
head foremost, into the p^rave after it. Fortu-
ii.itely, however, none were buried but the Ixuly ;
for, by dint of the best assistance available on the
sj)()t, the livin«r were raised, and thereby enabled
to retiu-n to their respective homes, all as jocose
and as haj)j)y as possible.
ectified ;
assisted
with his
est, and
'h were
nearest
• hands,
ist bed.
out the
1, when
^se who
1 down,
CHAPTER X
\JN examiniiifT the laird's papers after the
funeral, Mr Keelevin, the father of the cek-
brated town-clerk of CJudetoun, the lawyer pre-
sent on the occasion, discovered, in reading over
the deed which had been executed by the de-
ceased in favour of Walter, the second son of
Claud, that it was, in some essential points, im-
perfect as a deed of entail, though in other respects
valid as a testamentary conveyance. The oj)inioii
of counsel, as in all similar cases, was in conse-
quence forthwith taken ; and the susjiicions of
Mr Keelevin being confimied, Walter was ad-
mitted as heir to the estate, but found under no
legal obligation to assume his grandfather's name
— the very obligation Avhich the old gentleman
had been most solicitous to imj)ose upon him.
How it happened that the clause respecting so
important a ])()int should have been so inaccu-
rately framed remains for those gentlemen of tlu;
law, who conmiit such inadvertences, to explain.
The discovery had tlie effect of inducing Claud to
ap})ly to our old master, the late Gilbert Omil
writer, to examine the entail of the Grippy,
54
which he h
vas found (
lic.illy, wht
liuvers pro
almost be t
Misj)ect tlia
to fiituritv,
There have
however, w
tiian this one
any uneasin*
satisfacti(m f
plain (juestio
his })ower to
we recollect
on the o})posi
coflieil whicl:
lier ninety-se
for tlie purj
bedstead an(
J'dward slept
house after
the loval ant
•
the magistra'
laurlably ind<
not then qu
human naturt
fully taught
time soundec
especially wh
it were, a gi
THE ENTAIL
55
fter the
he cek-
'yer prc-
in^ over
the dv-
1 son of
)ints, ini-
• respects
i ()j)inion
n conse-
cioiis of
was ad-
nder no
s name
ntleman
lini.
ctin^^ so
ri
niaccii-
of tlu'
ex})laiii.
laud to
t Omit
Grippy,
whicli he had himself drawn up; and it, too,
I was found (h^feetive, and easily to be set aside.
Kcillv, when one considers how much some
lawvt'rs j)r(>fit by their own mistakes, one mi<jjht
almost be tem})ted to do them the injustice to
suspect that they now and then have an eye
1() futurity, and carve out work for themselves.
Ihcre have been discoveries of legal errors,
liowever, which have occasioned more distress
than this one ; for, instead of iriving the old man
aiiv uneasiness, he expressed the most perfect
satisfa('ti(m on being infomied, in answer to a
plain question on the subject, that it was still in
Ills })ower to disinherit his first-born. Well do
wc recollect the scene, being seated at the time
on the opposite side of Mr Omit's desk, copying a
coriicil which Miss Christiana Heritage, then in
licr ninety-second rear, was addini; to her will,
for tlie })urpose of devising, as heirlooms, the
bedstead and blankets in which Prince Charles
J"-(hvard slept, when he passed the night in her
house after having levied that ccmtribution on
llie loyal and godly city of Glasgow for which
the magistracies and Council were afterwards so
laii(lal)ly indemnified by Parliament. We were
not then cpiite so well versed in the secrets of
human nature as ex})erience has since so mourn-
liilly taught us ; and the words of Claud at the
time sounded strangely and harshly in our ear,
especially when he inquired, M'ith a sharp and, as
it were, a greedy voice, Whether it was practi-
.6
THE ENTAIL
cable to <Tct Walter to conjoin with him in ?,
deed that would unite his inheritance of Plealand^
to th.';; (/rippy, and thereby make a property v
broad and good as the ancestral estate of Kittle,
stonheugh ?
" Ye ken, Mr Omit," said he, " how I was (k-
frauded (as a bodie may say) of my patrimony bv
my grandfather ; and now, since it has pleased
Providence to put it in my power, by joiniiii:
the heritage of Plealands and Grippy, to renew
my ancestry, I would fain mak a settlement witlj
Watty to that effeck."
Mr Omit, with all that calm and methodical
manner which a long experience of those devices
of the heart to which lawyers in good practice,
if at all men of observation, generally attain,
replied —
" Nothing can be done in that way while
Walter is under age. But certainly, Avhen the
lad comes to majority, if he be then so inch'ned,
there is no legal impediment in the way of such
an arrangement ; the matter, however, would re-
quire to be well considered, for it would be an
unco-like thing to hear of a man cutting off his
tirst-born for no fault, but only because he could
constitute a larger iidieritance by giving a pre- ^
ference to his second."
Whatever impression this admonitory remark
made on the mind of Claud at the moment,
nothing further took place at that time ; but he
thoughtfully gathered his papers together, and,
Hving them
-the ollice ai]
^not a little
^v()()(len coa<
ocutlcman'sl
according t^
C'lcland, wa>
men, he beij
joiner). It
Mrs Kilfudc
in consequei
the Plealan
proper to ]
symy)athy ai
she had sust
I him in al
of PIcalaiuM
property i\
;e of Kittle-
V I was (It-
Ltrimony 1)\|
las pleasct
by joiiiiii(r
', to reneM
iment Mitli
methodica
)se devices
:1 practice,
lly attain,
THE ENTAIL 57
I
Itvincj them up with a striiiij, walked away from
tlic olfice and returned to Cirippy, where he was
not a little surprised to see Mr Allen Dre<i;horn's
wooden coach at the door (the first four-wheeled
gentleman's carriaire started in Glasgow, which,
jiccording to the praiseworthy liistory of Bailie
Cleland, was made by Mr Dreghorn's own work-
men, he being a timber merchant, carpenter, and
joiner). It was borrowed for the day by Mr and
Mrs Kilfuddy, who were then in Glasgow, and,
in consequence of their parochial connection with
the Plealands family, had deemed it right and
proper to pay the Leddy of Grippy a visit of
I sympathy and condolence, on account of the loss
she had sustained in her father.
vay while
when tile
> inclined,
iy of such
would re-
dd be an
ng off Ills
: he could
ig a jjre-
y remark
moment,
i ; but he
lier, and,
CHAPTER XI
J- HE Reverend Mr Kilfiiddy was a little, short,
erect, shai'p-l()okin<j^, brisk-tempered personage,
with a red nose, a white powdered wit^, and a lar^rt
cocked hat. His lady was an ample, demur.,
and solemn matron, v; ho, in all her fi^estuiis,
showed the most perfect consciousness of enjoy
ing the supreme dignity of a minister's wife in a
country j)arish.
According to the Scottish eti(|uette of tliit
period, she was dressed for the occasion in
mourning ; but the day being bleak and cold, siie
had assumed her winter mantle of green satin,
lined with grey rabbit-skin, and her hands,
ceremoniously protruded through the loojjhoks
formed for that ])urpose, reposed in full conse-
quentiality v^'t>;n the embraces of each other,
in a large black satin muff of her own makin<;,
adorned with a bunch of flowers in needlework,
which she had embroidered some thirty years
before as the last and most perfect specimen of
all her accomplishments. But although they
were not so like the blooming progeny of Flor.i
as a Linwood might, perhaps, have worked, they
58
roQS^'ssed a
to the floW'
insomuch tl|
niistaking
cannot refn|
tlic limner
bleniatic pi^
the drawinj
\vhich the fl
so great a vj
KiU'uddy in
the matron 1
The mini
degree of s
the mournt
» nothing is
"This disp(J
vouchsafed,
is an came
in this work
down by tl
for the son
erles given
fore, and I
, sore shock,
find a i)leas
father, wh<
better ctrc
considering
1 Sir I
2 Li]?p
i
THE ENTAIL
59
ttle, sliort,
persona;r(.
, deiiiijiv,
gestures,
of eiijov
i wife ill a
of that
vision iti
cold, slie
en satin,
r hands,
oopholos
1 conse-
li other,
niakinn-^
Uework, ^
y years
:iiTien of
^h they
)f Flora
id, they
-('js^'ssed n very competent detrree of resemblance
to the riowers tiiey were intendi d to r*. prcspiit,
insomuch that there was really no frrcat risk of
mistaking the roses for lilies. And here we
cannot refrain from ingeniously suspecting that
tlie limner who designed those celebrated em-
blematic pictures of the months which adorned
the drawing-room of the Craiglands,i and on
vhich the far-famed Miss Mizy Cunningaam set
so great a value, must have had the image of Mrs
Kilfuddy in his mind's eye when he deliiieated
tl)e matronly representative of November.
Tlie minister, after inquiring with a proper
degree of sympathetic pathos into the slate of
the mourner's health, j)iously observed that
'' nothing is so uncertain as the things of '•jme."
"This dispensation," said he, "which has been
vouchsafed, Mrs Walkinshaw, to you and yours
is an earnest of what we have all to look for
ill this world. But we should not be overly cast
down by the like o't, but lippen ^ to eternity;
for the sorrows of perishable human nature are
erles given to us of joys hereafter. I trust, there-
fore, and hope, that you will soon recover this
sore shoek, and in the cares of your young family
Hnd a pleasant jiastime for the loss of your worthy
fatiier, who, I am blithe to hear, has died in
better ctrcumstanct s than eould be expected,
considering the trouble he has had wi' his
1 Sir Andreio Wijltc, chap. Ixxxix., vul, ii. p. 269.
^ Lippcn. Look with confidonce.
60
THE EXTATL
laM"inf]r, leaving, as they say, the estate clear o;
del)t and a heavy soom of lvinj»: siller,"
*S\Iy father, Mr Kilfuddy, ' replied the la(l\
"was, as you well know, a most worthy character,
and I'll no say hasna left a nest-e<>g, the Lord
be thankit ; and we maun comjwse oursel's td
tLole wi' what He has been pleased, in Iliv
gracious ordinances, to send upon us for th(
advantage of our poor sinful souls. But tin
burial has cost the gudeman a j)ower o' money;
for my father being the head o' a family, ue
hae been obligated to put a' the servants, baith
here, at the Gri])py, and at the Plealands, in
full deep mourning, and to hing the front o'
the laft in the kirk, as ye'll see next Sabbath, j
wi' very handsome black cloth, the whilk cost
twentypence the ell, first cost, out o' the gude-
man's ain shop. But, considering wha my father
was, we could do no less in a' decency."
*' And I &c«i," interfered the minister's wife,
" that ye hae gotten a bombazeen o' the first
quality. Nae doubt ye had it likewise frae Mr
Walkinshaw's own shop, which is a great thing,
Mrs VValkinshaw, for you to get.'*
"Na, mem," replied the mourner; "ye dinna
know what a m"*sfortune I hae met wi'. I was,
as ye ken, at the Plealands when my father took
his departal to a better world, and sent for my
mournings frae Glasgow, antl frae the gudeman,
as ye would naturally expeck, and I had Mally
Trimmings in the house ready to mak them when
the box wo
,l;iy o' delu^
i;;il(ly Slowg
tliroiii?!^^ '"1
were rendei
WIS, indeedl
(v.ited me tcl
the things
clean total
wilderness i
(fiuleman hn
sets o' mouT
(ret frae my
w-eli content
" What y<
minister, " i'J
the funeral
hae left muc
of lying mor
"No, Mr
I Imt I'll no
i sand."
I " \ brav
I spiritual co
\ customary s
i ensued is i
I
I this junctu
came rumb.
j '-Mither,
* a bit of ai
it'
THE ENTAIL
61
ite clear u:
1 the ]a(l\
Y cliarac'ter
, the Lord
oursel's to
id, in IIi\
is for th.
But th,
o' money:
^amilv, Me
'lilts, baith
alands^ in
J fi-ont o' j
; Sabbath,
vhilk cost
lie giulo-
my father
er's wife,
the first
frae Mr
at thing,
ithc l)ox would come ; ])iit it happened to be a
(l;iy <)' (lelii«^e, so that my whole conmiodity, on
Ij.iUIv Slow<^aup.'s cart, was drookit throuijh and
through, and baith the crape and bonibazeen
were rendered as soople as pudding-skins. It
was, indeed, a sight ])ast expression, and obli-
jrated me to send an express to Kilmarnock for
the things I hae on, the outlay of whilk was a
clean total loss, besides being at the dear rate.
l)iit, Mr Kilfuddy, everything in this howling
wilderness is ordered for the best ; and if the
'riideman has been needcessitated to i)av for twa
sets o' mournings, yet, when he gets what he'll
i^ret frae my father's gear, he ought to be very
well c(mtent that it's nae Maur."
" What ye say, Mrs Walkinshaw," replied the
minister, "is very judicious ; for it was spoken at
the funeral that your father, Plealands, couldna
hae left muckle less than three thousand pounds
of lying money."
" No, Mr Kilfuddy, it's no just so muckle ;
hut I'll no say it's ony waur than twa thou-
sand."
" A braw soom, a braw soom I " said the
spiritual comforter; — but what further of the
customary sj)irituality of this occasion might have
ensued is matter of speculative opinion ; for at
this juncture Watty, the heir to the decey^ed,
came rund)ling into the room, crying —
" Mither, mither ! Meg Draiks v nina gie me
a hit of auld daddy's burial bread, though ye
62
THE ENTAIL
brought oner three f;irls ^ \vi' the sweeties oii't,
and twa wliaii«;s as big as peats o' the fine su^jjar
seedcake."
The eomposity of tlie minister and liis Mjfe
was greatly tried, as Mrs Kilfuddy herself often
afterwards said, by this " outstrapolous intrusion ; '
but quiet was soon restored by Mrs W'alkinshaw
ordering in the bread and wine, of which Walter
was allowed to partake. The visitors then looked
significantly at each other ; and Mrs Kilfuddy,
replacing her hands in her satin nuiff, which,
during the refectionary treat from the funeral
relics, had been laid on her knees, rose and said —
" Noo, 1 hope, Mrs Walkinshaw, when ye conic
to see the leddy, your mither, at the Plealands
that ye'll no negleek to gie us a ca' at the manse,
and ye'll be sure to bring the young laird wi' you,
for h(;'s a fine spirity bairn — everybody maun
alloo that."
" He's as he came frae the hand o' his Maker,"
replied Mrs Walkinshaw, looking j)iousiy towards
the minister ; " and it's a great consolation to
me to think he's so weei provided for by my
father."
"Then it's true," said Mr Kilfuddy, "that lie
gets a' the Plealands proj)( rty ? "
" 'Deed is't, sir ; and a braw patrimony I trow
it will be by the time he arrives at the years o'
discretion."
"That's H
i little slyly,
I more obvioul
(lid not perc|
c.ism, her at
to the entrai
ill thought,
h.md as he|
desk.
1 Farh. Original!}' ouo part of a cake cut in four jxirt:
before giving ; now used, as here, for cakes genenilly.
;etie.s out,
fine su«^ar
i his wife
rself often
itrusion ; '
alkinsliaw
ch Walter
en looked
Kilfuddy,
tt\ M-hk'h,
funeral
nd said —
1 ye come
l*lcalan(ls,
le manse,
1 wi' you,
dy inaun
Xfaker/'
towards
lation to
by my
that he
I trow L
years o'
THE ENTAIL
C)3
" That's a lan^ look," rejoined the minister a
little slyly, for Walter's defect of capacity was
more obvious than his mother ima«^ined. But she
(lid not perceive the point of Mr Kilfuddy's sar-
casm, her attention at the moment bein^ drawn
to the entrance of her Inisband, evidently troubled
ill thou<^ht, and still holdin«r the pajiers in his
hand as he took them away from Mr Omit's
desk.
Mir parte
CHAPTER XII
EXPERIFA'CK had t.ui-ht Mrs WalkinsliaM, as
it does most married ladies, that when a husband
is in one of his moody fits, the best way of r( -
concilin<r liim to the cause of his vexation is to
let him alone, or, as the })hrase is, to let him
come aii^ain to himself Accord inji^ly, instead of
teasin«T him at the moment with any iiujuiriis
about the source of his molestation, she drew Mrs
Kilfuddv aside, and retired into another room,
leaving him in the hands of the worthy divin< ,
who, sidlin<i^ uj) to him, said —
"I'm weel content to observe the resigned
spirit of Mrs Walkinshaw under this heavy dis-
pensation ; and it would be a great thing to us a'
if w^e would lay the chastisement rightly to heart.
For, wi' a' his faults, and no mere man is fault-
less, Plealands wasna without a seasoning o' good
qualities, though, poor man, he had his ain tribu-
lation in a set of thrawn-natured tenants. But
he has won away, as M'e a' hope, to that })leasaiit
place where the wicked cease from troubling and
the weary rest in peace. Nae doubt, Mr Walkin-
shaw it maun hae been some sma' disappointment
64
to vou, to fi|
heir; but it
vliouldna lct|
" No, be
nmcid, as
thougiit troi|
son Charlie
to shove hill
an unco pit\|
the Lord to
The minis
stand this, s.-i
shaw, vc'll ji
and though
lump, as ye
voiir ain fami
" I'm no CO
1 would fain
lor it' that c
doubt of mak
the Divethill
wi' tlie (Jrripi
fathers ; for ]
lator, is frae
iiiklin'thath(
if there was (
*' I canna
Kilfuddy, "1
the laws o'
no ini})ossibl
' Aiiqht. 1
Vol. I.
TIII<: KNTAIL
C)!
I
iiisliaw, as
I husband
ray of ii -
ition is to
) let hiin
nstead of
inquiries
drew Mrs
ler room,
V diviiit ,
resigned
avv dis-
to us a'
:o heart.
is fault-
o' good
II trihii-
s. But
:?
)h'asaiit
ing and
Walkin-
intmcnt
fo vou, to find tiiat your second son is mfidr the
heir; hut it's no an atllietion past remedy, so ye
v-lioiilchia let it fash you oner nuiekle."
"No, be tliankit," replied (laud, "it's no past
rcnieid, as (iibby Omit tells me; but I'm a
thought troui)led anent the means, for my auld
SDH Charlie's a fine eallan, and I would grudge
to shove him out o' tlie line o' inheritanee. It's
an uneo pity, Mr Kiltuddy, that it hadna jjlcascd
tlic Lord to mak Watty like him."
The minister, who did not very clearly und«'r-
stand this, said, " A'thing considered, Mr W'alkin-
; sliaw, yell just hae to let the law tak its course;
land though ye eanna hae the lairdship in ae
lump, as ye aiblins expeekit, it's nevertheless in
\(nir ain family."
" I'm no contesting that," rejoined (Taud ; *' but
1 would fain hae tjie twa niailintcs in ae aught. ^
1 or if that could be brought about, I woiddna
(loid)t of making an exeambio o' the IMralands for
I the Divethill and Kittleston, the twa farms that
fwi' the (irippy made up the heritage o' my fore-
Mathers ; for Mr Aueliineloss, the present ])ro})ree-
itor, is frae the shire o' Ayr, and I hae had an
inklin'thathe wouldna be ill pleased to makaswap,^
it" there was onv ])ossibilitv in law to alloo't."
'• I eanna say," repliL-d the Reverend Mr
Kill'iiddy, "that I hae ony great knowledge o'
i\\c. laws o' man. I should, iiowever, think it's
no impossible; but still, Mr Walkinshaw, ye
' Annht. Possession.
Vol. I.
2 Swap. Exchange.
E
^^
^
IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)
A
4is
^y '-^'-^^
:/
5r /^^/i
1.0
I.I
1.25
If: litt
^ 1^
M
2.2
2.0
IIIW
M. 11 1.6
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Sciences
Corporation
23 WEST MAIN STREET
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*
V
iV
^^
- ^
^\^\ ^> '^^ wk\
%
V
66
THE ENTAIL
would hae to innk a reservalioii for behoof of
your son Walter^ as heir to his grandfather. It
would be putting adders in the creel wi' tlie
eggs if ye didna."
'^TJiat's tlie very fasherie o' the business, Mr
Kilfuddy, for it would be nae satisfaction to me
to leave a divided inheritance ; and the warst o't
is, that Watty, haverel though it's like to be^
is no sae ill as to be cognos t ; and what maks
the case the mair kittle, even though he were
sae, liis younger brother Geordie, by course o'
law and nature, would still come in for the
J'lealands afore Charlie. In short, I see naethinir
for't, Mr Kilfuddy, but to join the Grii)py in ae
settlement wi' the Plealands; and I would do sae
outright, only I dinna like on j.oor Charlie's
account. Do ye think there is ony sin in a man
setting aside his first-born ? Ye ken Jacob was
alloo't to get the blessing and the birthright o'
his eldest brother Esau."
Mr Kilfuddy, notwithstanding a spice of
worldly - mindedness in his constitution, was,
nevertheless, an honest and j)ious Presbyterian
pa "^ tor ; and the quickness of his temper at the
moinent stirred him to rebuke the cold-hearted
speculations of this sordid father.
'^ Mr Walkinshaw," said he severely, " I can
see no point o' comparison between the case o'
your twa sons and that o' Jacob and Esau ; and
what's mair : the very iealousinjj: that there may
be sin in what ye wish to do is a clear demon-
stration th
intent ind|
But to set
hae nae aj
tiic unnati
born, out
estate, I sh
of our holl
porridge, a]
that which
He does, a
standing o'
would brin<
fest course c
He taketh
I l)ut has H(
commit mu
shaw ! ye n:
ye maun wt
on the hip
he has ta'e:
Hech, man '.
Avhat a bor
end, when ]
upon your I
and marrov
gimlets o' a
Claud sill
reproving n
lielp the wi
dinna ken ^
l)choof (if
athcr. It
i\ wi' tlif
siness, Mr
ion to me
3 warst o't
ke to be,
I'liat maks
I he were
course o'
1 for the
u naethini:^
ip})y in ae
iild do sae
' Charlie's
in a man
Jacob was
th right o'
spice of
ion, was,
sbyterian
er at the
d-hearted
\, " I can
le case o'
Lsau ; and
llicre may
demon-
THE ENTAIL
67
stration that it is vera sinful, for, oh, man ! it's a bad
intent indeed that we canna excuse to oursel's.
But to set you right in ae point, and that ye may
iiae nae apology drawn from Scrij^tural acts for
tiie unnatural in- lination to disinherit your first-
born, out o' the prideful fantasy of leaving a large
estate, I should tell you that there was a mystery
of our holy religion hidden in Jacob's mess o'
porridge, and it's a profane thing to meddle with
that which appertaineth to the Lord ; for what
He does, and what He i)ermits, is past the under-
standing o' man, and woe awaits on all those that
: would bring aught to pass contrary to the mani-
I fest course of His ordained method. For example,
I He taketh the breath of life away at His pleasure ;
I but has He not commanded that no mrn shall
I commit murder ? Mr Walkinshaw, Mr Walkin-
* shaw ! ye maun strive against this sin of the flesh ;
I ve maun warsle wi' the devil, and hit him weel
I on the hip till ye gar him loosen the grip that
I lie has ta'en to draw you on to sic an awful sin.
Hech, man ! an' ye're deluded on to do this thing,
what a bonny sight it will be to see your latter
end, when Belzebub, wi' his horns, will be sitting
upon your bosom, boring through the very joints
and marrow o' your poor soul wi' the red-het
,u;ini]ets o' a guilty conscience ! "
Claud shuddered at the picture, and taking the
reproving minister by the hand, said, '' We canna
lielp the wicked thoughts that sometimes rise, we
jdinna ken whar frae, within us."
68
THE ENTAIL
''Ye dinna ken whar f:'ae ? I'll tell vou whar
frae — frae hell : sic thoughts are the cormorants
that sit on the apple-trees in the devil's kail-yard,
and the souls o' the damned are the carcasses
they mak their meat o'."
" For Heaven's sake, Mr Kilfuddy ! " exclaimed
Claud, trembling in every limb, ''be patient, an
no speak that gait ; ye gar my hair stand on end."
" Hair ! Oh, man ! it would be weel for you if
your precious soul would stand on end, and no only
on end, but humlet to the dust, and that ye would
retire into a corner and scrape the leprosy of sic
festering sins wi' a potsherd o' the gospel, till ye
had cleansed yourself for a repentance unto life."
These ghostly animadversions may, perhaps,
sound harsh to the polite ears of latter days, but
denunciation was at that time an instrument of
reasoning much more effectual than persuasion;
and the spiritual guides of the people, in warn-
ing them of the danger of evil courses, made
no scruple, on any occasion, to strengthen their
admonitions with the liveliest imagery that reli-
gion and enthusiasm supplied. Yet, with all the
powerful aid of such eloquence, their efforts were
often unavailing ; and the energy of Mr Kilfuddy,
in this instance, had perhaps no other effect than
to make Claud for a time hesitate, although,
before they parted, he expressed great contrition
for having, as he said, yielded to the temptation
of thinking that he was at liberty to settle his
estate on whom he pleased.
At the
Grippy fai
sisted of
tlie eldest
Kilfuddy,
faced boy
much affe<
own boso]
but Mrs
unaccountt
occasional!
her first-b<
uncouth 1
earliest da
indubitable
endowed
herself
period, t(
character ;
ance of a (
calculatinfi
strated ho
and mind
1 you whar
cormorants
s kail-yard,
e carcasses
' exclaimed
patient, an
id on end."
I for you if
ind no only
it ye would
)rosy of sic
5pel, till ye
unto life."
', perhaps,
r days, but
Tument of
)ersuasion ;
!, in warn-
•ses, made
then their
that reli-
th all the
brts were
Kilfuddy.
ffect than
although,
contrition
emptatioii
settle his
CHAPTER XIII
At the death of the Laird of Plealands, the
(Irij)py family, as we have already stated, con-
sisted of three sons and a daughter. Charles,
the eldest, was, as his father intimated to Mr
Kilfuddy, a fine, generous, open-hearted, blithe-
faced boy. Towards him Claud cherished as
much affection as the sterile sensibilities of his
own bosom could entertain for any object ;
but Mrs Walkinshaw, from some of those
unaccountable antipathies with which nature
occasionally perplexes philosophy, almost hai:ed
her first-born, and poured the full flow of her
uncouth kindness on ♦ . alter, who, from the
earliest dawmngs of observation, gave the most
indubitable and conclusive indications of being
endowed with as little delicacy and sense as
herself The third son, George, was, at this
period, too young ^o evince any peculiar
character ; but, in after-lif j, under the appear-
ance of a dull and inapt spirit, his indefatigable,
calculating, and persevering disposition demon-
strated how much he had inherited of the heart
and mind of his lather. The daughter was
69
70
THE ENTAIL
baptized Mar^raret, Avhicli lier mother elegantly
abbreviated into Meg ; and, as the course of our
narrative requires that we should lose sight of
her for some time, we may here give a brief
epitome of her character. To beauty she had
no particular pretensions, ncr were her accom-
plishments of the most refined degree ; indeed,
her chief merit consisted in an innate predilection
for thrift and household management. What
few elements of education she had acquired
were chiefly derived from Jenny Hirple, a
lameter woman, who went round c mon"; the
houses of the heritors of the parish with a stilt,
the sound of which, and of her feet on the floors,
plainly pronounced the words '' One pound ten."
Jenny gave lessons in reading, knitting, and
needlework, and something that resembled writ-
ing; and under her tuition Miss Meg continued
till she had reached the blooming period of
sixteen, when her father's heart was so far
opened that, in consideration of the fortune he
found he could then bestow with her hand, he
was induced to send her for three months to
Edinburgh — there, and in that time, to learn
manners, ^^and be perfited," as her mother said,
'^wi' a boarding-school education."
But, to return to Charles, the first-born, to
whose history it is requisite our attention should
at present be directed, nothing could seem more
auspicious than the spring of his youth, notv/ith
standing t!ie lurking inclination of his father
were coi
THE ENTAIL
1
ir elegantly
)ur.se of our
se sight of
ive a brief
ty she had
her aecom-
!e ; indeed.
Dredilection
nt. What
I acquired
Hirple, a
mong the
vith a stilt,
I the floors,
ound ten."
tting, and
ibled writ-
continued
period of
'as so far
brtune he
hand, lie
months to
to learn
•ther said,
-born, to
on should
eem more
, notv/itii
lis father
to set him aside in the order of succession. This
was principally owing to his grandmother, who
had, during the life of the laird, her husband,
l;m,ii,uished, almost from her wedding-day, in a
state of uninterested resignation of spirit, so
quiet, and yet so melancholy, that it partook far
more of the nature of dejection than content-
ment. Immediately after his death her health
and her spirits began to acquire new energy ;
and before he was six months in the earth she
strangely appeared as a cheerful old lady who
delighted in society, and could herself administer
to its })leasures.
In the summer following she removed into
Glasgow, and Charles, being then about ten
years old, was sent to reside with her for the
advantages of attending the schools. Consider-
inij the illiterate education of his father and the
rough-spun humours and character of his mother,
this was singularly fortunate ; for the old lady
had, in her youth, been deemed destined for a
more refined sphere than the householdry of
the Laird of Plealands.
Her father was by profession an advocate in
Edinburgh, and had sat in the last assembly of
the States of Scotland. Having, however, to
the last opposed the Union with all the vehe-
mence in his power, he was rejected b}^ the
government party of the day ; and in conse-
quence, although his talents and acquirements
were considered of a superior order, he was
7!2
THE ENTAIL
allowed to hang on about the Parliament House
with the empty celebrity of abilities that, wit!i
more prudence, might have secured both riches
and honours.
Tlie leisure which he was thus obliged to
possess was devoted to the cultivation of his
daughter's mind, and the affection ot no father
was ever more tender, till about the period
when she attained her twentieth year. Her
charms were then in full blossom, and she was |
seen only to be followed and admired. But,
in proportion as every manly heart was delighted
with the graces and intelligence of the unfor-
tunate girl, the solicitude of her father to see
her married grew more and more earnest, till
it actually became his exclusive and predominant
passion, and worked upon him to such a degree
that it could no longer be regarded but as tinc-
tured with some insane malady ; insomuch that
his continual questions respecting the addresses
of the gentlemen, and who or whether any of
them sincerely spoke of love, embittered her
life, and deprived her of all the innocent delight
which the feminine heart, in the gaiety and
triumph of youth, naturally enjoys from the
homage of the men.
At this jurcture Malachi Hypel was in Edin-
burgh, drinking the rounds of an advocate's
studies, — for he had no intention to practise, and
with students of that kind the bottle then sup-
plied the place of reviews and magazines. He
was a stu^
fellow, cn|
almost to
manners a^
joyously,
and the \j
and one ij
and brand!
her a tend]
it with an
heart of tl
idea of be
rugged, si
I space of lit
to her fate
The cor
quite inexj
died, unab
THE ENTAIL
7li
ment House |
s that, witli
both riches
obliged to
Ltion of Im
't no father
the period
year. Her
nd she Mas g
ired. But, I
LS delighted
the unfor-
:her to see
earnest, till
redominant
h a degree
Lit as tine-
much that
addresses
ler any of
tered her
nt delight
aiety and
from the
in Edin-
idvocate's
ctise^ and
hen suj)-
|ies. He
was a sturdy, rough, hard-riding, and free-living
pt fellow, entitled by his fortune and connections
.ilniost to the best society, but (qualified by his
manners and inclinatio., to relish the lowest more
joyously. Unluckily he was among the loudest
and the warmest admirers of the ill-fated girl ;
and one night after supper, flushed with claret
and brandy, he openly, before her father, made
her a tender of his hand. The old man grasped
it with an avaricious satisfaction, and though the
heart of the poor girl was ready to burst at the
ide-i of becoming the wife of jne so coarse and
ruiiired, she was nevertheless induced., in the
space of little more than a month after, to submit
to her fate.
The conduct of her father was at that time
quite inexplicable ; but when he soon afterwards
died, unable to witness the misery to which he
had consigned his beloved child, the secret came
out. His circumstances were in the most ruinous
condition : his little patrimony was entirely con-
sumed ; and he acknowledged on his deathbed,
while lie implored with anguish the pardon of his
daughter, that the thought of leaving her in
poverty had so overset his reason that he could
think of nothing but of securing her against the
horrors of want. A disclosure so painful should
have softened the harsh nature of her husband
towards her; but it had quite a contrary effect.
He considered himself as having been in some
degree overreached ; and although he had certainly
74
THE ENTAIL
not marricHi her witli any view to fortune, he
yet reviled her as a l)arty to her father's sordid
machination. This confirmed the sadness witl.
wliicli she had yielded to become his bri(](
and darkened the whole course of her wedded
life with one continued and unvaried shade of
melancholy.
The death of her husband was in consequence
felt as a deliverance from thraldom. The even'
happened late in the day, but still in time enoiiiili
to allow the original brightness of her mind to
shine out in the evening with a serene aiui
pleasing lustre, sufficient to show what, in happier
circumstances, she might have been. The beams
fell on Charles with the cherishing influence of
the summer twilight on the young plant; and if
the tears of memory were sometimes mingled
with her instructions, they were like the gracious
dews that improve the delicacy of the flower and
add freshness to its fragrance. Beneath her care,
his natural sensibility was exalted and refined;
and if it could not be said that he was endowed
with genius, he soon appeared to feel with all tlie
tenderness and intelligence of a poet. In this
respect his ingenuous affections served to recall
the long- vanished happiness of her juvenile hopes,
and yielding to the sentiments which such re-
flections were calculated to inspire, she devoted,
perhaps, too many of her exhortations in teaching
him to value love as the first of earthly blessing
and of human enjoyments. ^^Love," she often
said to 111
stood tlu'l
it comes
kindled il
and stronJ
and point]
^vhcnce il
ill calculaj
in the woj
to master
come the
^vhich his
to medita
opportunit
s ' :|
ym
THE ENTAIL
/ •>
fortune, he
ther's sordid
ladness wit!.
■i his bri(|(
her wedded
ed shade oi
consequence
The event
time enouol)
lier mind to
serene aiul
t, in hapj)ier
The beams
influence of
lant; and if
es mingled
the gracious
flower and ^
h her care,
nd refined;
IS endowed
^ith all the
In this
i to recall
nile hopes,
such re-
e devoted,
n teaching
Y blessings
she often
said to the wondering boy, who scarcely under-
stood tlie term, " Love is like its end)lem fire :
it conies down from hejiven, and when once
kindled in two faithful bosoms, grows brighter
and stronger as it mingles its flames, ever rising
and pointing towards the holy fountain-head from
whence it came." These romarwtic lessons were
ill calculated to fit him to perform that wary part
in the world which could alone have enabled him
to master the malice of his fortune and to over-
come the consequences of that disinheritance
which liis father had never for a moment ceased
to meditate, but only waited for an appropriate
op])ortunity to carry into effect.
CHAPTER XIV
LyHARLES, in clue time, was sent to collcfre,
and while attending the classes formed an inti-
mate friendship with a youth of his own age, of
tlic name of Colin Fatherlans, the only son of
Fatherlans of that Ilk. He was at this time
about eighteen, and being invited by his com-
panion to spend a few weeks at Fatherlans
House, in Ayrshire, he had soon occasion to feel
the influence of his grandmother's lectures on
affection and fidelity.
Colin liad an only sister, and Charles, from the
first moment that he saw her, felt the fascinations
of her extraordinary beauty and of the charms of a
mind still more lovely in its intelligence than tlu
bloom and graces of her form. Isabella Father-
lans was tall and elegant, but withal so gentle
that she seemed, as it were, ever in need of
protection ; and the feeling which this diffidence
of nature universally inspired converted the
homage of her admirers into a sentiment of
tenderness which, in the impassioned bosom of
Charles Walkinshaw, was speedily warmed into
love.
76
For sev
cat ion t)f
iof Isabe^li
between
mutual paj
tiie sunshil
mises in
thing, on I
lineage aij
to her pan
as a Hiatcl
Time alon
their affec
leaj^ue, an
runs smoot
The fatl
^ tunate lair
I project of
1 which, at
I the lovers
blossoms ii
like a nip]
for ever.
was a suffi
I to comma]
that fond
I sidered as
'I ho})e to o
'" bella onlj
. to her lo\
* felt as a ]
THE ENTAIL
/ I
to eolleire.
tied an iiiti-
own age, of
only son of
t this time
yy his com-
Fatherlans
sion to feel
lectures on
s, from tlie
fascinations
charms of a
e than tlie
lla Father-
so gentle
n need of
diffidence
erted the
timent of
bosom of
rmed into
For several successive years he had the gratifi-
cation of spend'ng some weeks in the company
of Isabella ; and the free intercourse ])ermitted
between them soon led to the disclosure of a
mutual passion. No doubt at that time clouded
the sunshine that shone along the hopes and pro-
mises in the vista of their future years. Every-
thing, on the contrary, was propitious. His
lineage and prospects rendered him acceptable
to her parents, and she was viewed by his father
as n match almost beyond expectation desirable.
Time alone seemed to be the only adversary to
tiicir affection ; but with him Fortune was in
league, and the course of true love never long
runs smooth.
The father of Isabella was one of those unfor-
tunate lairds who embarked in the Mississippian
project of the Ayr Bank, the inevitable fate of
which, at the very moment when the hopes of
the lovers were as gay as the apple-boughs with
blossoms in the first fine mornings of spring, came
like a nipping frost and blighted their happiness
for ever. Fatherlans was ruined, and his ruin
was a sufficient reason, with the inflexible Claud,
to command Charles to renounce all thoughts of
that fond connection which he had himself con-
sidered as the most enviable which his son could
hoj)e to obtain. But the altered fortunes of Isa-
bella only served to endear her more and more
to her lover ; and the interdict of his father was
felt as a profane interference with that hallowed
78
THE ENTAIL
entliusiasni of mingled love and sorrow with which
his breast was at the moment filled.
" It is impossible/' said he ; " and even were It
in my power to submit to the sacrifice you require,
honour, and every sentiment that makes life
worthy, would forbid me. No, sir ; I feel that
Isabella and I are one. Heaven has made us so,
and no human interposition can separate minds
which God and nature have so truly united. The
very reason that you m'ge against the continuance
of my attachment is the strongest argument to
make me cherish it with greater devotion than
ever. You tell me she is poor, and must be
penniless. Is not that, sir, telling me that she
has claims upon my compassion as well as on my
love ? You say her father must be driven to the
door Gracious Heaven ! and in such a time
shall I shun Isabella ? A common stranger, one
that I had never before known, would, in such
adversity and distress, be entitled to any asylum
I could offer; but Isabella — in the storm that has
unroofed her father's house, shall she not claim
that shelter which, by so many vows, I have
sworn to extend over her through ] e.''"
"Weel, weel, Charlie," replied the old man,
" rant awa, and tak thy tocherless bargain to
thee, and see what thou'U mak o't. But mind
my words : When poverty comes in at the door,
love jumps out at the window."
'' It is true/' said the lover, a little more
calmly, "that we cannot hope to live in such
(■irciimstan|
ibiit still,
p;irtnershii|
father, youl
^^We'llll
father. "^
young, cle^
iiccdlVil md
Charlie, I'll
ye'U just \i
(onnection.
()' my coun|
foot may
neither yoj
luit ye can
This was I
and sedate
versation, (
tliat time
iiumediatel;
understand
at the end
so inclined,
culated wi^
that the :
cumstancei
vcar, have
lover ; and
own self-d
of Futherl
twelve m<
THE ENTAIL
79
V with which
jven were it
you require,
makes life
I feel that
made us so,
arate minds
nited. The
continuance
rgument to
votion tlian
d must be
le that she
i as on my
iven to the
ch a time
•anger, one
1, in such
iny asylum
II that has
not claim
r I have
•
old man,
argain to
But mind
he door,
tie more
hi sucli
oircnmstances as I had so often reason to expect ;
:l)iit still, you will not refuse to take me into
partnership, which, in the better days of her
father, you so often promised ? "
'^ We'll hae twa words about that," replied the
father. " It's ae thing to take in a partner,
young, clever, and sharp, and another to take a
iieeclfid man with the prospect o' a family. But,
Charlie, I'll no draw back in my word to you, if
ye'll just put off for a year or twa this calf-love
connection. Maybe, by-and-by ye'll think better
()' my counsel ; at ony rate, something for a sair
^fbot may be gathered in the meantime, and
neither you nor Bell Fatherlans are sae auld
jhut ye can afford to bide a while."
This was said in the old man's most reflective
,iand sedate manner ; and after some further con-
Iversation, Charles did consent to postpone for
|tliat time his marriage, on condition of being
fiinmediately admitted into partnership, with an
understanding that he should be free to marry
iat the end of twelve months, if he still continued
so inclined. Both parties in this arrangement cal-
culated without their host. The father thought
|that the necessary change in the exterior cir-
icumstances of Isabella would, in the course of the
lyear, have a tendency to abate the ardour of her
lover; and the son gave too much credit to his
own self-denial, supposing that, although the ruin
|of Fatherlans was declared, yet, as in similar cases,
itwelve months would probably elapse before the
80
THE ENTAIL
sequestration and sale of his estate would finally
reduce the condition of his family. From the
moment, however, that the aff)iirs of the banking' R|
company were found irretrievable, Mr Fatherlans
zealously bestirred himself to place his daughter
above the hazards of want, even while he enter-
tained the hope that it might not be necessary.
He carried her with him to Glasgow, and, before
calling at Claud's shop, secured for her an asylum
in the house of Miss Mally Trimmings, a cele-
brated mantua-maker of that time. When he
afterwards waited on the inexorable pedhir, and
communicated the circumstance, the latter with
unfeigned pleasure commendeci the prudence uf
the measure ; for he anticipated that the pride
of ni::^ son would recoil at the idea of connecting
himself with Isabella in her altered state. What
the lover himself felt on hearing the news we
shall not attempt to describe, nor shall we so
far intrude beyond the veil which should ever
be drawn over the anxieties and the sorrows of
young affection, under darkened prospects, as to
relate what passed between the lovers when they
next met. The resolution, however, with which
they both separated was worthy of the purity of
their mutual affections, and they agreed to pass
the probationary year in a cheerful submission
to their lot.
When
turned th(
situated o
foot of tht
the bridge
fflen, wher
commandii
gated pros
The yea
sun setting
which, in £
season ter
distant mo
A thin mi;
of a haze t
I from the
■ the view ;
in the goh
outlines o
with a b
as if illu:
the trees
s and here
VOL. I.
v^ould finally
From the
llie banking'
r Fatherlaiis
lis daughter
le he enter-
3 necessary.
and, before
r an asylum
ngs, a cele-
When he
pedhir, and
Litter Mitli
prudence of
t the pride
connecting
ate. What
news we
hall we so
hould ever
sorrows of
)ects, as to
when thev
ith which
purity of
d to pass
ubmission
'■i
CHAPTER XV
\V HEN Charles parted from Isabella he re-
turned thoughtfully towards Grippy, which was
situated on the south side of the Clyde, at the
foot of the Cathkin hills. His road, after passing
the bridge, lay across the fields as far as Ruther-
glen, where it diverged towards the higher ground,
commanding at every winding a rich and varie-
gated prospect.
The year was waning into autumn, and the
sun setting in all that effulgence of glory with
which, in a serene evening, he commonly at that
season terminates his daily course behind the
distant mountains of Dumbartonshire and Argyle.
A thin mist, partaking more of the lacy character
of a haze than the texture of a vapour, spreading
from the river, softened the nearer features of
the view ; while the distant hills were glowing
in the golden blaze of the western skies, and the
outlines of the city on the left appeared gilded
with a brighter light, every window sparkling
as if illuminated from within. 7'he colour of
the trees and hedges was beginning to change ;
and here and there a tuft of yellow leaves, and
VOL. I.
81
82
THE ENTAIL
occasionally the berries of the mountain ash, like
clusters of fiery embers, -with sheaves of corn
and reapers in a few of the neighbouring fields,
showed that the summer was entirely past aiul
the harvest-time begun.
The calm diffused over the face of the land-
scape, and the numerous images of maturity and
repose everywhere around, were calculated to
soothe the spirit, to inspire gentle thoughts, and
to awaken pleasing recollections ; and there was
something in the feelings with which the lovers
had separated, if not altogether in unison with
the graciousness of the hour, still so much in
harmony with the general benignity of nature
that Charle felt his resolution and self-denial
elevated with a sentiment of devotion, mingled
with the fond enthusiasm of his passion. '^ It is
but a short time — a few months — and we shall
be happy ! " he exclaimed to himself; "and our
happiness will be the dearer that we shall have
earned it by this sacrifice to prudence and to
duty."
But Charles and Isabella had estimated their
fortitude too highly. They were both inexperi-
enced in what the world really is ; and her tender
and sensitive spirit was soon found incapable of
withstanding the trials and the humiliation to
which she found herself subjected.
It was part of her business to carry home the
dresses made up for Miss Mally's customers ; and
althougli the Glasgow ladies of that time were
perhaps
style or
than those
were less
tion for th
our fair cc
been. Th
often obli^
which, the
attention
painfully
Still, how<
circumstan
sensibilitie
her beaut
began to :
Charles
her in the
formed hei
of the bur
how much
past, and c
misfortune
more. It
being late
— the foo
Mally's d\
he arrivec
wife of t
Matty wh
Tolbooth
THE ENTAIL
83
in asli, like
es of corn
iring fields,
y past and
' the land-
iturity and
iulated to
ughts, and
there Avas
the lovers
[lison witli
) much ill
of nature
self-denial
1, mingled
n.
t(
It is
I we shall
"and our
shall have
e and to
ited their
inexperi-
ler tender
apable of
liation to
lome the
lers ; and
me were
perhaps not more difficult to please with the
style or fashion of their gowns and millinery
than those of our own day, yet some of them
were less actuated by a compassionate considera-
tion for the altered fortunes of Isabella than all
our fair contemporaries would undoubtedly have
been. The unfortunate girl was, in consequence,
often obliged to suffer taunts and animadversions,
which, though levelled against the taste or in-
attention of her mistress, entered not the less
painfully into her young and delicate bosom.
Still, however, she struggled against the harsh
circumstances to which she was exposed ; but her
sensibilities were stronger than her courage, and
her beauty betrayed what she felt, and soon
began to fade.
Charles was in the practice of accompanying
her in the evenings when she commonly per-
formed her disagreeable errands, and relieved her
of the burden of her band-box, joyfully counting
how much of the probationary year was already
past, and cheering her with the assurance that her
misfortunes had only endeared her to him the
more. It happened, however, that one Saturday,
being late of reaching the place of rendezvous
— the foot of the staircase which led to Miss
Mally's dwelling — Isabella had gone away before
he arrived, with a new dress to Mrs Jarvie, the
wife of the far-famed Bailie Nicol, the same
Matty who lighted the worthy magistrate to the
Tolbooth on that memorable night when he, the
84
THE ENTAIL
son of the deacon, found liis kinsman Rob Roy
there.
Matty at this time was a full-blown iady— the
simple, modest, barefooted lassie having developed
into a crimson, gorgeous, high-heeled madam —
well aware of the augmented width and weight
of the bailie's purse, and jealous a little too niuch
of her own consequence, perhaps by recollecting;
the condition from which she had been exaltc'J.
The dress made up for her was a costly neglige ;
i" not only contained several yards of the richest
brocade more than any other Miss Mally Trim-
mings had ever made, but was adorned with cuffs
and flounces in a style of such affluent magnifi-
cence that we question if any grander has since
been seen in Glasgow. Nor was it ordered for any
common occasion, but to giace a formal dinner-
party which Provost Anderson and his lady in-
tenc'ed to give the magistrates and their wives
at the conclusion of his eighth provostry. It
was, therefore, not extraordinary that Mrs Jarvie
should take particular interest in this dress ; but
the moment she began to try it on, poor Isabella
discovered that it would not fit, and stood trem-
bling from head to heel, while the bailie's wife, in
great glee and good-humour with the splendour
of the dress, was loud in her praises of the cut
of the ruffle-cuffs and the folds of the flounces.
Having contemplated the flow of the neglige on
bcth sides, and taken two or three stately steps
across the room, to see ho^y it would sweep
lur hanas|
they woul(
Isabella]
hand, apj]
niii;ht expj
stood a ml
Lot's wife I
the charm]
"Oh, cl:
the ci-dcvi
chrystal !
mistress,
to be skel
goun's ruii
near-begai
o' the gait
me. This
As I'm a li
me to say-
the lords,
twenty gu
God and
satisfactio]
me off wi'
\vi' you ; 1
presence,
grace to
1 Craiphl
] tumely : it
Coughing.
THE ENTAIL
85
i Rob R
«y
lady— tlie
developed
madam—
nd weight
! too much
-collectiiur
n exaltrd.
neglige
lie richest
illy Trim-
with cuffs
t magnifi-
has since
ed for any
il dinner-
lady iu-
eir wives
3stry. It
[rs Jarvie
ress ; but
r Isabella
>od treni-
s wife, in
plendour
' the cut
flounces.
-glige on
ely steps I
sweep
behind, Airs Jarvie took the wings of tlie body in
her lianas, and drawing them together, found
ihey would not nearly meet.
Isabella, Vvith a beating heart and a diffident
hand, approached to smooth the silk, that it
niii;ht expand ; but all would not do. Mrs Jarvie
stood a monument of consternation, as silent as
Lot s wife when she looked back and thought of
the charming dresses she had left behind.
" Oh, chrystal ! " were the first words to which
the ci-deva?it Matty could give utterance. " Oh,
chrystal ! My God, isna this moving .'' Your
mistress, doited devil, as I maun ca' her, ought
to be skelpit wi' nettles for this calamity. The
goun's ruin't. My gude silk to be clippit in this
near-begaun way, past a' redemption. Gang out
o' the gait, ye cuLty, and no finger and meddle wi'
me. This usage is enough to provoke the elect !
As I'm a living soul — and that's a muckle word for
me to say- -I'll hae the old craighling scoot ^ afore
the lords. The first cost was mair than five-and-
twenty guineas. If there's law and justice atween
God and man, she shall pay for't, or I'll hae my
satisfaction on her flesh. Hither, maiden, and help
me off wi' it. Siccan a beauty as it was ! Tak it
wi' you ; tak it to you ; out o' the house and my
presence. How durst ye dare to bring sic a dis-
grace to me .'' But let me look at it. Is't no
1 Craiqhling scoot. Scoot is a term of the greatest con-
tumely : it is used so in Sir Andrew Wylie. Craighling is
Coughing.
86
THE ENTAIL
poj ?ible to put in a gushet or a gore, and to
make an eik ? " ^
*^ril take it home and try," said Isabella,
timidly folding up the gown, which she h;id
removed from Mrs Jarvie.
"Try!" said the bailie's wife, relapsing; "a
pretty-like story that sic a goun should stand in
the jeopardy o' a try. But how could Miss Mally
presume to send a silly thing like t'ee on this
occasion ? Lay down the goun this precious
moment, and gae hame and order her to come to
me direkilty : it's no to seek what I hae to say."
The trembling and terrified girl let the unfor-
tunate neglige fall, and hastily, in tears, quitted
the room, and, flying from the house, met in the
street her lover, who, having learned where she
was, had followed her to the house. A rapid and
agitated disclosure of her feelings and situation
followed. Charles, on the spot, resolved, at all
hazards, rather to make her his wife at once, aiid
to face the worst that might in consequence
happen from his father's displeasure, than allow
her to remain exposed to such contumelious
treatment. Accordingly, it was agreed that they
should be married ; and on the Monday followimi;
the ceremony was performed, when he conducted
her to a lodging which he had provided in the
interval.
1 Mk, Additioi^.
On the
anxious, d
tention w
what he
sible, to
ness, mig
and moti
thought,
Liiough tl
had some
view it e5
which thi
first, and
He ha
grandmo
towards
effect it i
was iull;
after so]
peculiar!
her inte:
going t(
when h(
>re, and to
1 Isabella, p
1 she had
ipsm^; "a
d stand in
Miss Mally
ee on this
s precious
;o come to
e to say."
the unfor-
rs, quitted
net in the
where she
rapid and
I situation
^ed, at all
once, aiid
nsequence
hari allow
tumelious
that they
followinij
conducted
id in the
CHAPTEK XVI
yjS the morning after his marriage Charles was
anxious, doubtful, and diffident. His original in
tention was to go at once to his father, to state
what he had done, and to persuade him, if pos-
sible, to overlook a stej) that, from its sudden-
ness, might be deemed rash, but, from the source
and motives from which it proceeded, could, he
thought, be regarded only as {)raiseworthy. Still,
ciiough this was his own opinion, he nevertheless
had some idea that the old gentleman would not
view it exactly in the same light ; and the feeling
which this doubt awakened made him hesitate at
first, and finally to seek a mediator.
He had long remarked that "the leddy," his
grandmother, sustained a part of great dignity
towards his father ; and he concluded, from the
effect it appeared to produce, that her superiority
was iully acknowledged. Under this delusion,
after some consideration of the bearings and
peculiarities of his case, he determined to t.y
her interference, and for that purpose, instead of
going to Grippy, as he had originally intended
when he left Isabella, he proceeded to the house
87
88
THE ENTAIL
of the .)1(1 lady, wlicrr; he foiiiul her at home aiul
ahme.
Tlie moment lie entered her sitting-room she
perceived that his mint.' was laden with some-
thing which j)resscd heavily on his feehngs ; and
she said —
" What has vext you, Charhe ? Has your
father been severe upon you for ony misde-
meanour, or hae ye done anything that ye're
afeared to tell ? "
In the exj)ression of these sentiments she had
touched the sensitive cord that, at the moment,
was fastened to his heart.
"I'm sure," was his reply, "thai \ hae done no
ill, and dinna ken why I should be frightened in
thinking on what everybody that can feel and
reflect will approve."
"What is't .^ " said the leddy thoughtfully.
" What is't } If it's aught good, let me partake
the solace wi' you ; and if it's bad, speak it out,
that a remedy may be, as soon as possible,
applied."
" Bell Fatherlans," was his answer ; but he
could only articulate her name.
" Poor lassie ! " said the venerable gentle-
woman, "her lot's hard; and I'm wae for both
your sake and hers, Charlie, that your father's so
dure as to stand against your marriage in the way
he does. But he was aye a bargainer. Alack !
the world is made up o' bargainers ; and a heart
wi' a right affection is no an article o' muckle
repute in til
I'oor genty
to hae swe^
>,he's oner tl
ami prius ol
and, what's!
pridefu' cusl
" She coia
let her," rej
these expre:
his imprude
Mrs Hyi
ansvvcr, but
we might ir
"Ye shou
help you, m
to your fat
do what ye
trust to Pre
it should be
"I fear,"
I hae done
married ye
snooled - a
p fat-pursed
a new gow:
" Marrie
accent of i
;! ried ! W(
I trodden, £
iJ ^ Tawpy. '
THE ENTAIL
89
home and
-room she
itii somc-
"ig«; and
FI.'is your
y misde-
liat ye 're
> she had
moment,
done no
itened in
feel and
fhtfuljy.
partake
it out,
30ssible,
but he
gentle-
)r botli
ler's so
le way
Mack I
I heart
ciuckle
repute in the common market o' man and woman.
I'oor ^enty Bell ! I wisli it had been in my power
to hue sweetened her lot ; for I doubt and fear
^he's oucr tnin-skinned to thole long the needles
,111(1 prins o' Miss Mally Trimmings' short temper,
.111(1, what's far waur, the tawpy ^ taunts of her
pridt'fu' customers."
" She could suffer them no longer, nor would I
let her," replied the bridegroom, encouraged by
these expressions to disclose the whole extent of
his imprudence.
Mrs Hypel did not immediately return any
answer, but sat for a few moments thoughtful,
we might indeed say sorrowful ; she then said —
"Ye shouldna, Charlie, speak to me. I canna
help you, my dear, though I hae the will. Gang
to your father and tell him a', and if he winna
do what ye wish, then, my poor bairn, bravely
trust to Providence, that gars the heart beat as
it should beat, in spite o' a' the devices o' man/*
"I fear," replied Charles with simplicity, "that
I hae done that already, for Bell and me were
married yesterday. I couldna suffer to see her
snooled - and cast down any longer by every
fat-pursed wife that would triumph and glory in
a new gown."
" Married, Charlie ! " said the old lady with an
accent of surprise, mingled with sf^rrow. "Mar-
ried ! Weel, that's a step that canna be un-
trodden, and your tribulation is proof enough
^ Tawpy. Ill-conditioned. 2 Snooled. Broken in vspirit.
90
THE ENTAir.
to me that you are awakened to the eoiisetjuencT.
But what's to be done ? "
" Nothing, mem, but only to speak a kind
word for us to my father," was the still simple
answer of the simple younjij husband.
''I'll spejik for you, <"harlie: I can do tiiat,
and I'll be haj)py and i)routl to ^ie you a' tlu-
countenance in my power ; but your father,
Charlie — the ^ude foririe me because he is your
father — I'm darkened and dubious when I think
o him.
"I hae a notion," replied Charles, "that Me
need be no cess ^ on him. We're content to
live in a sma' way, only I would like my wife
to be countenanced as becomes her ain family,
and mair especially because she is mine ; so that,
if my father will be pleased to tak her, and
regard her as his gude-dochter, I'll ask nothing
for the present, but do my part, as an honest
and honourable man, to the very uttermost «'
my ability."
The kind and venerable old woman was ])r(>-
foundly moved by the earnest and frank spirit in
which this was said ; and she assured him that
so wise and so discreet a resolution could not fail
to make his father look with a compassionate
eye on his generous imprudence. " So gae your
ways home to Bell," said she, " and counsel and
comfort her ; the day's raw, but I'll even now
away to the Grippy to intercede for you, and by
1 Cess. Tax.
THE ENTAIL
91
'onse(jucncc.
eak .'I kind
still simple
;m do tlmt,
you a' tlie
our father,
; he is your
len I think
((
, that we
content to
ie my wife
ain family,
le ; so that,
k lier, and
sk nothinjr
an honest
;termost o'
the <:jloaming be you here wi* your bonny l)ri(le,
and I trust, as I wish, to hae glad tidings for
vou baith."
Charles, with great ardour and eneri^y, expressed
I the sense which he felt of the old lady's kindness
and partiality, but still he doubted the successful
result of the mission she had undertaken. Never-
theless, lier words inspired hope, and hope was
the charm that spread over the prospects of
Isabella and of himself the hght, the verdure,
and the colours which enriched and filled the
distant and future scenes of their expectations
with fairer and brighter promises than they were
ever destined to enjoy.
1 was ])!'()-
ik spirit in
him that
dd not fail
ipassionate
3 gae your
ounsel and
even now
ou, and by i
CHAPTER XYII
OLAUD was sitting at the window when he dis-
covered his mother-in-law coming slowly towards
the house, and he said to his wife —
" In the name o' gude, Girzy, what can hae
brought your mother frae the town on sic a day
as this ? "
" I hope," replied the leddy of Grippy, "that
nothing's the matter wi' Charlie, for he promised
to be out on Sabbath to his dinner, and never
came."
In saying these words, she went hastily to the
door to meet her mother, the appearance of whose
countenance at the moment was not calculated
to allay her maternal fears. Indeed, the old
lady scarcely spoke to her daughter, but walkini^
straight into the dining-room where Grippy him-
self was sitting, took a seat on a chair, and then
threw off her cloak on the back of it, before she
uttered a word.
" What's wrang, grannie } " said Claud, rising
from his seat at the window and coming towards
her. " What's wrang ; ye seem fashed } " ^
^ Fashed, Vexed and troubled,
92
THE ENTAIL
93
hen he dis-
vly towards
it can hae
n sic a day
3py, "that
e promised
and never
tily to the
of whose
calculated
the old
it walkiii<r
ippy hini-
and then
)efore slie
id, rising
i: towards
i).V*
" In truth, Mr Walkinshaw, I hae cause," was
the reply — " poor Charlie ! — "
" What's happened to him ? " exclaimed his
mother.
" Has he met wi' ony misfortunate accident ? "
inquired the father.
'' I hope it's no a misfortune," said the old
lady, somewhat recovering her self-possession.
"At the same time, it's what I jealouse, Grippy,
yell no be vera content to hear."
'• What is't .'* " cried the father sharply, a little
tantalised.
" Has he broken his leg ? " said the mother.
'' Haud that clavering tongue o' thine, Girzy,"
exclaimed the laird peevishly; "wilt t'ou ne'er de-
vaul wi' scauding ^ thy lips in other folks' kail ? "
"He had amaist met wi' far waur than a
broken leg," interposed the grandmother. " His
heart was amaist broken."
" It maun be unco brittle," said Claud, with a
hem. " But what's the need o' this summering
and wintering anent it ? Tell us what has
happened."
" Ye're a parent, Mr Walkinshaw," replied the
old lady seriously, " and I think ye hae a fatherly
regard for Charlie ; but I'll be plain wi' you. I
doubt ye haena a right consideration for the
gentle nature of the poor lad ; and it's that which
gars me doubt and fear that what I hae to say
will no be agreeable."
^ Devaul wi' scauding. Cease scalding.
94
THE ENTAIL
Claud said nothing in answer to this, but sat
down in a chair on the right side of his mother-
in-law, his wife having in the meantime taken a
seat on the other side. The old lady continued—
"At the same time, Mr Walkinshaw, ye're a
reasonable man, and what I'm come about is a
matter that maun just be endured. In short, it's
nothing less than to say that, considering Father-
lans' misfortunes, ye ought to hae alloo't Charlie
and Isabella to hae been married, for it's a sad
situation she was placed in — a meek and gentle
creature like her wasna fit to bide the flyte ^ and
flights o' the Glasgow leddies."
She paused, in the expectation that Claud
would make some answer, but he still remained
silent. Mrs Walkinshaw, however, spoke —
" 'Deed, mither, that's just what I said, for ye
ken it's an awfu' thing to thwart a true affection.
Troth is't, gudeman ; and ye should think what
would hae been your ain tender feelings had my
father stoppit our wedding after a' was settled."
" There was some difference between the twa
cases," said the dowager of Plealands dryly to
her daughter ; " neither you nor Mr Walkinshaw
were so young as Charlie and Miss Fatherlans
— that was something ; and maybe there was a
difference, too, in the character of the parties.
Howsever, Mr Walkinshaw, marriages are made
in heaven ; and it's no in the power and faculty
of man to controvert the coming to pass o' what
^ Flyte. Scolding.
is ordainei
Fatherlanj
Maker, ai
their hap]
" I'm s»
'qt can nl
woukl onlj
but calf-l(
Mrs Hyl
'^t's vc
auld heads
Walkinsha
young foll-i
tion as tli<
wish. Th
Rachel's a:
^'I but
Claud.
" A yeai
'] a lang tale
has come
gotten the
" No po
Ins chair,
; '' Weel,
heard the
man 1 the
The ol
other inte
a daughter
hisj but sat
his motlier-
me taken a
:;ontinuecl—
aw, ye 're a
about is a
n short, it's
ing Father-
>o't Charlie
c it's a sad
and gentle
flyte 1 and
hat Claud
[ remained
•ke —
aid, for ye
3 affection.
hink what
i^s had my
settled."
1 the twa
dryly to
alkinshaw
atherlans
re was a
5 parties.
ire made
d faculty
s o' what
THE ENTAIL f).5
is ordained to be. Charlie Walkinshaw and Bell
Fatherlans were a couple marrowed ^ by their
Maker, and it's no right to stand in the way of
their happiness."
" I'm sure," said Claud, now breaking silence,
''it can ne'er be said that I'm ony bar till't. I
would only fain try a year's probation in case it's
but calf-love."
Mrs Hypel shook her head as she said —
"It's vera prudent o' you, but ye canna put
auld heads on young shouthers. In a word, Mr
Walkinshaw, it's no reasonable to expeck that
young folk, so encouraged in their mutual affec-
tion as they were, can thole so lang as ye would
wish. The days o' sic courtships as Jacob's and
Rachel's are lang past."
" I but bade them bide a year," replied
Claud.
" A year's an unco time to love ; but, to make
a lang tale short, what might hae been foreseen
has come to pass, — the fond young things hae
gotten themselves married."
"No possible ! " exclaimed Claud, starting from
his chair, which he instantly resumed.
"Weel," said Mrs Walkinshaw, '^if e'er I
heard the like o' that ! Our Charlie a married
man ! the head o' a family ! "
The old lady took no notice of these and
other interjections of the same meaning which her
daughter continued to vent ; but looking askance
^ Marrowed. Partnered.
96
THE ENTAIL
at Claud, who seemed for p minute deeply and
moodily agitated, she said —
"Ye say nothing, Mr Walkinshaw."
" What can I say ? " was his answer. " I had
a better hope for Charlie — I thought the year
would hae cooled him — ; and I'm sure Miss
Betty Bodle would hae been a better bargain."
" Miss Betty Bodle ! " exclaimed the grand-
mother ; " she's a perfect tawpy."
"Weel, weel," said Grippy, "it mak's no
odds noo what she is : Charlie has ravelled the
skein 1 o' his own fortune, and maun wind it as
he can."
"That will no be ill to do, Mr Walkinshaw,
wi' your helping hand. He's your first-born,
and a better-hearted lad never lived."
"Nae doubt I maun heln him — there can be
A.
nae doubt o' that ; but he canna expeck, and
the world can ne'er expeck, that I'll do for him
what I might hae done had he no been so rash
and disobedient."
" Very true, Mr W^alkinshaw," said the gratified
old lady, happy to find that the reconciliation
was so easily effected ; and, proud to be the
messenger of such glad tidings to the young
couple, she soon after returned to Glasgow. But
scarcely had she left the house when Claud
appeared strangely disturbed : at one moment
he ran hastily towards his scrutoire and opened
it, and greedily seized the title-deeds of his pro-
^ Ravdlcd the skein. Twisted the thread.
perty; til
retreatinj
" Wha]
werena
said his \|
'^'lldl
was the
" Eh,
into thel
Charlie's
lather."
"Out
Claud in
Walter tl
" It's c
glide to
a low, it
walked t(
"Nae
thing to
his rashn
" It is,
a ane fc
f cut then
" Tha
I " Didna
\ the leg
the Enj
I Betty B
I " Anc
THE ENTAIL
97
perty ; the next he closed it thoughtfully, and,
retreating to his seat, sat down in silence.
" What's the matter \vi' you, gudeman ? Ye
werena sae fashed when my mother was here,"
said his wife.
" I'll do nothing rashly — I'll do nothing rashly,"
was the mysterious reply.
" Eh, mither, mither ! " cried Walter, bolting
into the room. " Wliat would you think : our
Charlie's grown a wife's gudeman, like my
father."
" Out o' my sight, ye ranting cuif ! " ^ exclaimed
Claud in a rapture of rage, w^hich so intimidated
Walter that he fled in terror.
"It's dreadfu' to be sae temjited — and a' the
glide to gang to sic a haverel," added Claud, in
a low, troubled accent, as he turned away and
walked towards the window.
"Nae doubt," said his wife, "it's an awfu'
thing to hear o' sic disobedience as Charlie, in
his rashness, has been guilty o'."
''It is, it is," replied her husbfnd; *'and many
a ane for far less hae disinherited their sons —
cut them ofFwi' a shilling."
" That's true," rejoined the leddy of Grippy.
" Didna Kilmarkeckle gie his only daughter but
the legacy o' his curse for running away wi*
the Englisher captain, and leave a' to hi'^ niece
Pretty Bodle .> "
"And a' she has might hae been in our
^ Cuif. Simpleton.
VOL. I.
98
THE ENTAIL
family but for this misfortune. When I think o'
the loss, and how pleased her father was when I
proposed Charlie for her, it's enough to gar me
tak some desperate step to punish the contuma-
cious reprobate. He'll break my heart."
"Dear keep me, gudeman, but ye're mair
fashed than I could hae thought it was in the
power o' nature for you to be," said Mrs.
Walkinshaw, surprised at his agitation.
'^ The scoundrel ! the scoundrel ! " said Claud,
walking quickly across the room. '' To cause
sic a loss ! To tak' nae advice ! To run sic a
ram-race ! I ought, I will, gar him fin' the
weight o' my displeasure. Betty Bodle's tocher
would hae been better than the Grippy. But he
shall suffer for't — I seena why a father mayna
tak' his own course as weel as a son. I'll no
be set at nought in this gait. I'll gang in to
Mr Keelevin the morn."
'^Dinna be ouer headstrong, my dear, but
compose yoursel'," said the lady, perplexed, and
in some degree alarmed, at the mention of the
lawyer's name.
"Compose thysel', Girzy, and no meddle wi'
me," was the answer, in a less confident tone
than the declaration he had just made ; adding —
" I never thought he would hae used me in
this way. I'm sure I was aye indulgent to
im.
"Overly sae," interrupted Mrs Walkinshaw,
"and often I told you that he would gie you a
THE 7 .TAIL
99
hct heart for't, and noo ye see my words hae
come to pass."
Claud scowled a*, her with a look of the fiercest
aversion, for at that moment tlie better feelings
of his nature yearned towards Charles, and almost
overcame the sordid avidity with which he had
resolved to cut him off from his birthright, and
to entail the estate of Grippy with the Plealands
on Walter — an intention which, as we have before
mentioned, he early formed, and had never aban-
doned, being merely deterred from carrying it into
effect by a sense of shame, mingled with affec-
tion, and a slight reverence for natural justice :
all which, however, were loosened from their hold
in his conscience by the warranty which the im-
prudence of the marriage seemed to give him in
the eyes of the world, for doing what he had so
long desired to do. Instead, however, of making
her any reply, he walked out into the open air,
and continued for about half-an-hour to traverse
the green in front of the house, sometimes with
quick, short steps, at others with a slow and heavy
pace. Gradually, however, his motion became
more regular, nd ultimately ended in a sedate
and firm tread, which indicated that his mind was
made up on the question which he had been
debating with hinijself.
CHAPTEK XVIII
JL HAT abysm of legal dubieties, the office of
Mr Keelevin, the writer, consisted of two obscure
apartments on the ground floor of McGregor's
Land, in M'^Whinnie's Close, in the Gallowgate.
The outer room was appropriated to the clerks,
and the inner for the darker mysteries of con-
sultation. To this place Claud repaired on the
day following the interesting communication of
which we have recorded the first impressions in
the foregoing chapter. He had ordered breakfast
to be ready an hour earlier than usual ; and as
soon as he had finished it he went to his scrutoire,
and taking out his title-deeds, put them in his
pocket, and, without saying anything to his wife
of what he intended to do, lifted his hat and
stick from their accustomed place of repose in
the corner of the dining-room, and proceeded, as
we have said, to consult Mr Keelevin.
It is not the universal opinion of mankind that
the profession of the law is favourable to the
preservation of simplicity of character or of bene-
volence of disposition ; but this, no doubt, arises
from the malice of disappointed clients, who, to
100
THE ENTAIL
101
i office of
ro obscure
l^Gregor's
allowgate.
;he clerks,
is of con-
2d on the
lication of
•essions in
breakfast
il ; and as
scrutoire,
em in his
I his wife
hat and
repose in
ceeded, as
ikind that
le to the
r of bene-
ubt, arises
s, who, to
shield themselves from the consequences of their
own unfair courses, pretend that the wrongs and
injustice of which they either are found guilty or
are frustrated in the attempt to effect are owing
to the faults and roguery of their own or of their
adversaries' lawyers. But why need we advocate
any revision of the sentence pronounced upon the
hnibs of the law ? For, grasping as they do the
whole concerns and interests of the rest of the
community, we think they are sufficiently armed
with claws and talons to defend themselves. All,
in fact, that we meant by this apologetic insinua-
tion was to prepare the reader for the introduction
of Mr Keelevin, on whom the corrosive sublimate
of a long and thorough professional insight of all
kinds of equivocation and chicanery had in no
degree deteriorated from the purity of his own
unsuspicious and benevolent nature. Indeed, at
the very time that Claud called, he was rebuking
his young men on account of the cruelty of a con-
trivance they had made to catch a thief that was
in the nocturnal practice of opening the window
of their office, to take away what small change
they were so negligent as to leave on or in their
desks ; and they were not only defending them-
selves, but remonstrating with him for having
rendered their contrivance abortive. For, after
they had ingeniously constructed a trap within
the window, namely, a footless table, over which
the thief must necessarily pass to reach their
desks, he had secretly placed a pillow under it, in
102
THE ENTAIL
order that, when it fell down, the robber miglit
not hurt himself in the fall.
" Gude-morning, gude-mornin^, Mr Keelevin.
How're ye the day ? " said Claud as he entered.
" Gaily, gaily, Grippy. How're ye yoursel', and
how's a' at hame ? Come awa ben to my room,"
was the writer's answer, turning round and open-
ing the door ; for experience had taught him that
visits from acquaintances at that hour were not
out of mere civility.
Claud stepped in, and seated himself in an old
armed chair which stood on the inner side of the
table where Mr Keelevin himself usually wrote ;
and the lawyer followed him, after saying to the
clerks, " I redde ye, lads, tak tent to what I hae
been telling you, and no encourage yourselves to
the practice of evil that good may come o't. To
devise snares and stratagems is most abominable :
all that ye should or ought to do is to take such
precautions that the thief may not enter ; but to
wile him into the trap, by leaving the window
unfastened, was nothing less than to be the cause
of his sin. So I admonish you no to do the like
o't again."
In saying this he came in, and, shutting the
door, took his own seat at the opposite side of
the table, addressing himself to Claud — " And so
ye hae gotten your auld son married ? I hope
it's to your satisfaction."
" An he has brewed good yill, ^ Mr Keelevin,
1 YilL Ale.
he'll dru
hae com
that I w(
"That
for, sin'
was mad(
stand, a'
both heri
" And
troubled
about it
Mr Keel
(k)^' to th
Omit, thj
lings and
ne'er cou
the pith I
and over
his back
maun pu
in the I
mak som
"We'l
Hae ye i
would w
"No;
property
them,
we'll nc
1 Wir
2 Sice
THE ENTAIL
1 0.'i
)ber mifrht
Keelevin.
entered,
ursel', and
my room,"
and open-
t him tliat
were not
in an old
ide of the
lly wrote ;
ng to tlie
hat I hue
rselves to
! o't. To
)minable :
;ake such
r ; but to
; window
the cause
the like
;ting the
i side of
■'And so
I hope
keelevin,
he'll drink the better," was the reply; "but I
bae come to consult you anent a bit alteration
that I would fain make in my testament."
" That's no a matter of great difficulty, laird ;
for, sin' we found out that the deed of tiitail that
was made after your old son was born can never
stand, a' ye have is free to be destined as ye will,
both heritable and movable."
" And a lucky discovery that was ! Many a
troubled thought I hae had in my own breast
about it ; and now I'm come to confer wi' you,
Mr Keelevin, for I wouldna trust the hair o' a
(lo<; to the judgment o' that tavert bodie, Gibby
Omit, that gart me pay nine pounds seven shil-
lings and saxpence, too, for the parchment — for it
ne'er could be called an instrument, as it hadna
the pith o' a windlestrae ^ to bind the property — ;
and over and aboon that, the bodie has lang had
his back to the wa' wi* the 'poplexy : so that I
maun put my trusj in this affair into your hands,
in the hope and confidence that ye're able to
mak something mair siccar." ^
"We'll do our endeavour, Mr Walkinshaw.
Hae ye made ony sort o' scantling ^ o' what you
would wish done ? "
" No ; but I hae brought the teetles o' the
property in my pouch, and yeTl just conform to
them. As for the bit saving of lying money,
we'll no fash wi' it for the present ; I'm only
^ Windlestrae. The crested dog's-tail grass.
^ Siccar. Secure. 3 Scantling. Roiigh draft.
104
THE ENTAIL
l()()kiii«r to f»et a solid and ri<rlit entail o' tin-
heritable."
" Nothing can he easier. Come, as yc're o' an
ancient family, no doubt your intent is to settle
the (/rip})y on the male line, and, failin^]^ your
sons and their heirs, then on the lieirs of the
body of your daughter."
''Just sae, just sae. I'll make no chan<Te on
my original disposition ; only, as I would fain hae
what cam by the gudewife made part and portion
o' tlie family heritage, and as her father's settle-
ment on Watty eanna be broken without a great
risk, I would like to begin the entail o' the
Grippy wi' him."
•' I see nothing to prevent that ; ye could gie
Charlie, the auld son, his liferent in't, and as
Watty (no to speak disrespectful of his capacity)
may ne'er marry, it might be so managed."
" Oh, but that's no what I mean ; and what
for mayna Watty marry r Isna lie o' capacity
to execute a deed, and surely that should qualify
him to take a wife .'* "
"But heavens preserve me, Mr Walkinshaw,
are ye sensible of the ill ye would do to that fine
lad, his auld brother, tiiat's now a married man,
and in the way to get heirs "^ Sic a settlement as
ye speak o' would be cutting him off a'thegither :
it would be most iniquitous."
" An it should be sae, the property is my own
conquesting, Mr Keelevin, and surely I may niak
a kirk and a mill o't an I like."
M
" Nol
right to
but I v^l
sic an
justice
most ex|
" Kxtl
my fan]
when h(
"I ai
you ; bu
has niai
estimati
"Ay,
the fath
"Tha
shaw, w
way to (
"A' 1
didna d
anent tl
want yo
first, ye'
syne on
them, y
the hei
Meg's 1
" Mr
after a
Christie
1
THE ENTAIL
1(»")
ritail ()' the
« N()l)()(ly, it's true, Mr Walkinshaw, has ony
ri'rht to mt'ddle wi* how ye dispoiu' of your own ;
but I was thinkin«]f ye maybe didiia roHoct that
sic an entail as ye speak o' would be rank in-
justice to poor Charlie, that I hae aye thought a
most excellent lad."
" Excellent here, or excellent there, it wasna
my fault that he drew up wi' a tocherless tawpy,^
when he might hae had Miss Betty Bodle."
" I am very sorry to hear he has displeased
you ; but the Fatherlans family, into whilk he
has married, has aye been in great repute and
estimation."
" Ay, afore the Ayr Bank ; but the silly bodie
the father was clean broken by that venture."
" That should be the greater reason, Mr Walkin-
shaw, wi' you to let your estate go in the natural
way to Charlie."
"A' that may be very true, Mr Keelevin. I
didna come here, however, to confer with you
anent the like of that, but only of the law. I
want you to draw the settlement, as I was saying :
first, ye'll entail it on Walter and his heirs-male ;
syne on Geordie and his heirs-male ; and, failing
them, ye may gang back, to please yoursel', to
the heirs-male o' Charlie, and failing them, to
Meg's heirs-general."
" Mr Walkinshaw," said the honest writer
after a pause of about a minute, '^there's no
Christianity in this."
^ Toch&iess tawpy. Dowcrless, worthless lass.
106
THE ENTAIL
"But there may be law, I hope."
" 1 think, Mr W'alkirisliaw, my good and
worthy friend, that you should reflect well on
this matter, for it is a thing by-ordmar to do."
" But ye ken, Mr Keelevin, when Watty dies,
the Grippy and the Plealands will be a' ae
heritage, and willna that be a braw thing for
my family "^ "
"■ But what for would ye cut off poor Charlie
from his rightful inheritance } "
"Me cut him off frae his inheritance ! When
my grandfather brake on account o' the Darien,
then it was that he lost his inheritance. He'll
get frae me a' that I inherited frae our forebears,
and maybe mair ; only, I'll no alloo he has ony
heritable right on me but what stands with my
pleasure to gie him as an almous."
" But consider, he's your own first-born "
" Weel, then, what o' that } "
((
And it stands with nature, surely, Mr Walkin-
shaw, that he should hae a bairn's part o' your
gear."
" Stands wi' nature, Mr Keelevin } A coat
o' feathers or a pair o' hairy breeks is a' the
bairn's part o' gear that I ever heard o' in
nature, as the fowls o' the air and the beasts o'
the field can very plainly testify. No, no, Mr
Keelevin, we're no now in a state o' nature but
a state o' law, and it w^ould be an unco thing if
we didna make the best o't. In short, ye' 11 just
get the settlements drawn up as soon as possi-
bility wil
wi' sic
Watty 11
mented. |
"Watt
somewhf
him. I
before wj
*a'm
Mr Keel
cerity ;
found ou
deed, as
creature
for't you
and see
right and
" Watt
" Have
that the
made oi
mancos »
like o' th
settleme:
clear ant
but he 1
for he's
what I \
by the
gang th(
THE ENTAIL
107
good and
2ct well on
r todo."
Watty dies,
1 be a' ae
V thing for
oor Charlie
2e ! When
ihe Darien,
ace. He'll
r forebears,
16 has ony
Is with my
rn "
Ir Walkin-
art o' your
A coat
is a' the
ard o' ill
beasts o'
), no, Mr
ature but
o thing if
ye'll just
as possi-
bility will alloo ; for it doesna do to lose time
wi' sic things, as ye ken, and I'll come in wi'
Watty neist market-day and get thera imple-
mented."
"Watty's no requisite," said Mr Keelevin
somewhat thoughtfully ; " it can be done without
him. I really wish ye would think better o't
before we spoil any paper.'
" I'm no fear't about the paper in your hands,
Mr Keelevin : ye'll do everything right wi' sin-
cerity ; and mind, an it should be afterwards
found out that there are ony flaws in the new
deed, as there were in the auld, which the doited
creature Gibby Omit made out, I'll gar you pay
for't yoursel'. So tak tent, for your own sake,
and see that baith Watty's deed and mine are
right and proper in every point of law."
" Watty's ! What do you mean by Watty's } "
" Havena I been telling you that it's my wish
that the Plealands and the Grippy should be
made one heritage, and isna Watty concos
mancos enough to be conjunct wi' me in the
like o' that } Ye ken the flaw in his grandfather's
settlement, and that, though the land has come
clear and clean to him, yet it's no sae tethered
but he may wise ^ it awa as it likes him to do,
for he's noo past one-and-twenty. Therefore,
what I want is, that ye will mak a paper for him,
by the whilk he's to 'gree that the Plealands
gang the same gait, by entail, as the Giippy.
1 Wue. Will
108
THE ENTAIL
"As in duty bound, Mr Walkinshaw, I maun
do your will in this business," said Mr Keelevin;
''but really I kenna when I hae been more
troubled about the specialities of any settlement
It's no right o' you to exercise your authority
Guer Watty : the lad's truly no in a state to be
called on to implement ony such agreement as
what ye propose. He shouldna be meddled \\\\
but just left to wear out his time in the world,
as little observed as possible."
" I canna say, Mr Keelevin, that I like to hear
you misliken the lad sae ; for didna ye yourself,
with an ettling of pains ^ that no other body
could hae gane through but yoursel', prove, to
the satisfaction of the Fifteen at Edinburgh,
that he was a young man of a very creditable in-
tellect, when Plealands' will was contested by his
cousin } "
" Waes me, Mr Walkinshaw, that ye should
cast up to me the sincerity with which I did but
my duty to a client. However, as ye' re bent on
this business, I'll say na mair in objection, but
do my best to make a clear and tight entail,
according to your instructions — trusting that I
shall be accounted hereafter as having been but
the innocent agent. And yet I beg you again, be-
fore it's ouer late, to reflect on the consequence
to that fine lad Charlie, who is now the head of
a house and in the way of having a family. It's
an awfu' thing ye're doing to him."
^ Eitling of pains. Pains of striving {ettling).
'( Wee]
(linna y
papers ii
ye think I
Charlie '4
'^t's
the worl
to him."
" And
this is d(
sleight o
movables
this to b(
" Man
ken that
clearing '
that ye li
to hear y
true fath
that I cs
this crot<
to the p
Charlie,
mair abo
bv Wedi
to see tl
"Na,
your OM
will I pf
they are
1 Can
sal
THE ENTAIL
109
haw, I maun
dr Keelevin;
been rnoro
y settlement.
>ur authority
state to be
greement as
meddled wi',
n the world,
like to Jiear
ye yourself^
other body
r, prove, to
Edinburifh,
reditable in-
ssted by his
ye should
b I did but
're bent on
ection, but
ght entail,
;ing that I
J been but
1 again, be-
3nsequence
le head of
mily. It's
" Weel, weel, Mr Keelevin, as I was saying,
(linna ye fash your thumb, but mak out the
papers in a siccar manner ; and maybe, though
ye think sae ill o' me, it winna be the waur for
Charlie after a's come and gane."
" It's in the Lord's power, certainly," replied
the worthy lawyer piously, *'to make it all up
to him."
•' And maybe it's in my power too ; for "when
this is done, I'll liae to take another cast ^ o' your
sleiuht o' hand in the way of a bit will for the
movables and lying siller. But I would just like
this to be weel done first."
" Man, laird, I'm blithe to hear that ; but ye
ken that ye told me last year, when you were
clearing the wadset ^ that was left on the Gripjiy,
that ye hadna muckle mair left. But I'm blithe
to hear ye're in a condition to act the part of a
true father to a' your bairns ; though I maun say
that I canna approve, as a man and a frien', of
tliis crotchet of entailing your estate on a haverel,
to the prejudice of a braw and gallant lad like
( harlie. Howsever, sin' it is sae, we'll say nae
mair about it. The papers will be ready for you
by Wednesday come eight days, and I'll tak care
to see they are to your wish."
" Na, an ye dinna do that, the cost shall be on
your own risk ; for the dcil a plack or bawbee
will I pay for them till I hae a satisf^iction that
they are as they ought to be. Howsever, gude-
1 Cast. Aid by the way. - Wadset. Reversion.
no
THE ENTAIL
day, Mr Keelevin, and we'll be wi' you on Wed-
nesday by ten o'clock."
In saying this, Claud, who had in the mean-
time risen from his seat, left the office without
turning his head towards the desk where the
clerks, as he walked through the outer room,
were sitting, winking at one another, as he
plodded past them, carrying his staff in his left
hand behind him, a habit which he had acquired
with his ellwand when he travelled the Borders
as a pedlar.
On the
had been
entail Gri
his wife, <
in mind, s
] ^'Vm t\
reason to \
; made for
noo, we m;
To this
I the most i
] made in h(
^ lated grun
and natur
continued-
"But, p
I would fc
1 hae to try
neuk o' y<
miss t.
" I hae t
I he, somew]
I on Wed-
the mean-
ce without
where the
iter room,
er, as he
in his left
d acquired
tie Borders
CHAPTER XIX
UN the Saturday evening after the instruction'^
had been given to prepare the new deed of
entail Grippy was thoughtful and silent ; and
his wife, observing how much he was troubled
I in mind, said —
''I'm thinking, gu le > m, though ye hae no
reason to be pleased with this match Charlie has
j! made for hinisel', ye ken, as it canna be helpit
noo, we maun just put up wi' 't,"
To this observation, which was about one of
the most sensible that ever the leddy o' Grippy
made in her life, Claud replied with an ill-articu-
lated grumph that partook more of the sound
and nature of a groan than a growl ; and she
continued —
" But, poor laddie, bare legs need happing !
I would fain hope ye'll no be ouer dure ; ye'll
hae to try an there be any moolly ^ pennies in the
neuk o' your coffer that can be spared and no
miss t.
" I hae thought o' that, Girzy, my dawty," said
he, somewhat more cordially than he was in the
1 Moolly, for want of using.
Ill
112
THE ENTAIL
practice of doing to his wife; "and we'll giuvr
ouer the morn and speer for Charlie. I wish lit
hadna been so Iieadstron<r ; but it's a' his ;
am
fault, riowsever, it wouldna be canny to gaiii:
toom-handed ; ^ and I hae got a bit bill for five-
score j)ounds that I'm mindit to gic him."
" Fivescore pounds^ gudeman ! that's the whnle
tot o' a hundred. Na, gudeman, I would hae
thought the half o't an unco almous frae you. I
hope it's no a feedom afore death. Gude pre-
serve us ! ye're really ta'en wi' a fit o' the libera-
lities ; but Charlie, or I'm mista'en, will hae
need o't a, for yon Flanders baby is no for a poor
man's wife. But for a' that, I'm blithe to think
ye're gaun to be sae kind ; though I needna
wonder at it, fo"i* Charlie was aye your darling
chevalier (l\n sure nobody can tell what for), and
ye aye lookit down on poor good-natured Watty."
" Haud that senseless tongue o' thine, Girzy.
Watty's just like the mither o't, a haverel ; and if
it werena more for ae thing than anither, the deil
a penny would the silly gouk get frae me, abooii
an aliment to keep him frae beggary. But what's
ordain't will come to pass ; and it's no my fault
that the swmph Watty wasna Charlie. But it's o'
nae use to coiTtest about the matter ; ye'll be
ready betimes the morn's morning to gang in wi'
me to the town to see the young folks."
Nothing more then passed ; but Claud, some-
what to the surprise of his lady, proposed to make
^ Tvovi-handed. Empty-handed.
)i
family
gudewif*
made ar
■what's t(
ben the
and you,
about nu
laddie fi
me to do
Thel
Mrs Wall
lay undis
sion 1 to
off, as or
sermon,^
thorough!
it, followc
time, hav
table and
sitting, w
him, reac
])roduced
accidental
the page :
his own r
Mrs Wall
record, sai
"Atwe<
he's no au
How auk
THE ENTAIL
113
7^
we'll gaii
I wish ht
a' his ain
ly to gaiii:
lill for five-
Tl.
5 the wliole
would hae
rae you. I
Gude pre-
the libera-
ls will hae
for a poor
he to think
I needna
our darliiijf
at for), and
ed Watty. '
»
line, Girzy.
rel ; and if
er, the deil
me, abooii
But what's
lo my fault
But it's o'
r ; ye'U be
gang in wi'
aud, some-
id to make
family worship that evening. '^ It's time now,
gudewife," said he, ''when we're in a way to be
made ancestors, that w^e should be thinking o'
what's to come o' our sinful souls hereafter. Cry
ben the servants, and I'll read a chapter to them
and you, by way o' a change ; f:)r I kenna what's
about me, but this rash action o' that thoughtless
laddie fashes me, and yet it wouldna be right o'
me to do any other way than what I'm doing."
The big ha' Bible was accordingly removed by
Mrs Walkinshaw from the slielf where it commonly
lay undisturbed from the one sacramental occa-
sion 1 to the other ; and the dust being blown
off, as on the Saturday night prior to the action
sermon,^ she carried it to the kitchen to be more
thorouglily wiped, and soon after returned with
it, followed by the servants. Claud, in the mean-
time, having drawn his elbow-cliair close to the
table and placed his spectacles on his nose, was
sitting, when the mistress laid the volume before
him, ready to begin. As some little stir was
produced by the servants taking their places, he
accidentally turned up the cover, and looked at
the page in which he had inserted the dates of
his own marriage and the births of his children.
Mrs Walkinshaw, observing him looking .-it the
record, said —
" Vtweel, Charlie needna been in sic n haste :
he's no auld enough yet to be the head o' a family.
How auld were ye, gudeman, when we were
^ See Note A, Annals of the Parish.
VOL. I. II
114
THE ENTAIL
marriet ? But he's no blest wi' the forethought
o you.
"Will that tongue o' thine, Cnrzy, ne'er be
quiet ? In the presence o' thy Maker, wheesht !
and pay attention while I read a chapter of His
holy Word."
The accent in which this was uttered imposed
at once silence and awe ; and when he added,
" Let us worship God by reading a portion of
the Scriptures of truth/' as the servants often
afterwL.rds said, '' he spoke like a dreadfu'
divine.
Not being, as we have intimated, much in the
practice of domestic worship, Claud had avoided
singing a psalm ; nor was he so well acquainted
with the Bible as to be able to fix on any par-
ticular chapter or appropriate passage from re-
collection. In this respect he was, indeed, much
inferior to the generality of the Glasgow mer-
chants of that age ; for, although they were
considerably changed from the austerity by
which their fathers had incurred the vengeance
of Charles the Second's Government, they were
still regular in the performance of their religious
domestic duties. Some excuse, however, might
be made for Claud on account of his having spent
so many years on the English Borders — a region
in no age or period greatly renowned for piety,
though plentifully endowed, from a very ancient
date, with ecclesiastical mansions for the benefit
of the outlaws of the tw o nations. Not, however,
THE ENTAIL
115
\o insist on this topic : instead of reverently
waling a portion with judicious care, he opened
the book with a degree of superstitious trepida-
tion, and the first passage which caught his eye
was the thirty-second verse of the twenty-seventh
chapter of Genesis. He paused for a moment ;
and the servants and the family, also having
opened their Bibles, looked towards him in ex-
pectation that he would name the chapter he
intended to read ; but he closed the volume over
upon his hand, which he had inadvertently placed
on the text, and lay back on his chair, unconscious
of what he had done, leaving his hand still within
the book.
"We're a' ready," said Mrs Walkinshaw ;
"whar's the place?"
Roused by her observation from the reverie
into which he had momentarily sunk, without
reflecting on what he did, he hastily opened the
Bible by raising his hand, which threw open the
leaves, and again he saw and read —
" And Isaac his father said unto him, * Who art thou 1 '
and he said, * I am thy son, thy first-born, Esau ;'
"And Isaac trembled very exceedingly."
"What's the matter wi' you, gudeman ? " said
the leddy. " Are ye no weel ? " as he again
threw himself back in his chair, leaving the book
open before him. He, however, made no reply,
but only drew his hand over his face and slightly
rubbed his forehead.
116
THE ENTAIL
" I'm thinking, giulem.'in," added the leddy,
"as ye're no used wi' making exercise, it may be
as weel for us at the beginning to read a chapter
intil oursel's."
"I'll chapse^ that place," said Walter, "vvho
was sitting opposite to his father, putting, at the
same time, unobserved into the book a bit of stick
which he happened to be sillily gnawing.
Claud heard what his wife suggested, but for
about a minute made no answer. Shutting the
Bible, without noticing the mark which Walter
had placed in it, he said —
"I'm thinking ye're no far wrang, gudewife.
Sirs, ye may gae but ^ the house and ilk read a
chapter wi' sobriety, and we'll begin the worshij)
the morn's night, whilk is the Lord's."
The servants accordingly retired. Walter
reached across the table to lay hold of the big
Bible in order to read his chapter where he had
inserted the stick ; but his father angrily struck
him sharply over the fingers, saying —
" Hast t'ou neither grace nor gumshion,^ that
t'ou daurs to tak awa the Word o' God frae before
my very face ? Look to thy ain book, and mind
what it tells thee, an t'ou has the capacity of an
understanding to understand it."
Walter, rebuked by the chastisement, with-
1 ru chapse. In the etiquette of children, I chapse at once
makes declaration of the object of one's choice and sets up a
claim to the same.
2 Gae hut. Go to the kitchen.
'^ GumshiAyn. Understanding.
THE ENTAIL
117
(Irow from tlie table ; and, taking a seat sulkily
by the fireside, be<ran to turn over the leaves of
his poekct Bible, and from time to time he read
iiuitterin<rly a verse here and there by the li;;ht
of the grate. Mrs Walkinshaw, with Miss Mei^,
having but one book between them, drew their
chairs close to the table ; and the mother, laying
her hand on her daughter's shoulders, overlooked
the chapter which the latter had selected.
Although Claud by this time had recovered from
the agitation into which he liad been thrown by
the admonition he had (as it were) received from
the divine oracle, he yet felt a profound emoti(m
of awe as he again stretched his hand towards
the sacred volume, which when he had again
opened, and again beheld the selfsame words, he
trembled very exceedingly, in so much that he
made the table shake violently.
" In the name of God, what's that } " cried his
wife, terrified by the unusual motion, and raising
her eyes from the book with a strong expression
of the fear which she then felt.
Claud was so startled that he looked v/ildly
behind him for a moment, witn a ghastly and
superstitious glare. Naturally possessing a firm
and steady mind, however, his alarm scarcely
lasted a moment ; but the p ous business of the
evening was so much disturbed, and had been to
himself so particularly striking, that he suddenly
quitted the table and left the room.
CHAPTER XX
X HE Sabbath morninp^ was calm and clear, and
the whole face of nature fresh and bright. Every-
thing was animated with glee ; and the very
flowers, as they looked up in the sunshine, shone
like glad faces. Even the leddy o' Grippy par-
took of the gladdening spirit which glittered and
frolicked around her ; and, as she walked a few
paces in front of her husband down the footpath
from the house to the highway leading to Glasgow,
she remarked, as their dog ran gambolling before
them, that —
"Auld Colley, wi' his daffing, looks as he had
a notion o' the braw wissing o' joy Charlie is to
get. The brute, gudeman, aye took up wi' him,
which was a wonderfu* thing to me ; for he did
nothing but weary its life wi' garring it loup for
an everlasting after sticks and chucky-stanes.
Howsever, I fancy dogs are like men — leavened,
as Mr Kilfuddy says, wi' the leaven of an ungrate-
ful heart — ; for Colley is as doddy and crabbit
to Watty as if he was its adversary, although,
as ye ken, he gathers and keeps a' the bancs
for't."
118
THE ENTAIL
119
''Wilt t'oii ne'er devaul' wi' tliy havering
t()n«;uc ? I'm sure the chinib brute, in favouring
Charlie, showed niair sense than his mother, poor
fi'llow."
" Ay, ay, gudeman, so ye say ; but everybody
knows your most unnatural partiality."
" Thy tongue, woman," exelaimed her husband,
'^ gangs like the clatterbane o' a goose's
((
Eh, megsty me!" cried the leddy ; "wha's
yon at the yett tirling at the pin ?" ^
Claud, roused by her interjection, looked for-
ward, and beheld, with some experience of astonish-
ment, that it was Mr Keelevin, the writer.
"We'll hae to turn and gang back with him,"
said Mrs Walkinshaw, when she observed who
it was.
''I'll be d — d if I do ony sic thing," growled
tlie old man, with a fierceness of emphasis that
betrayed apprehension and alarm, while at the
same time it denoted a riveted determination to
persevere in the resolution he had taken ; and,
mending his pace briskly, he reached the gate
before the worthy lawyer had given himself
admittance.
" Gude-day, Mr Keelevin ! What's brought you
so soon afield this morning } "
"I hae just ta'en a bit canter cure to see you,
and to speak anent yon thing."
Hae ye got the papers made out } "
Surely — it can never be your serious intent—
1 Tirling at the piiu Working the handle of the latch.
<(
(C
120
THE ENTAIL
I would fain hope — nay, really, Mr Walkinshaw,
ye maunna think o't."
" Hoot, toot, toot : I thoupfht ye had ma>
sense, Mr Keclevin. But I'm sorry we cannu
gae back wi' you, for we're just sae far on the
road to see Charlie and Iiis lady landless."
" 'Deed are we," added Mrs Walkinshaw ; '' and
ye'U no guess what the gudeman has in his pouch
to gie them for h;vasel ^ to their matrimony : the
whole tot of a hundred pound, Mr Keelevin —
what think you o' that ? "
The lawyer looked first at the leddy, and then
at tbe laird, and said, ^' Mr Walkinshaw, I hae
done you wrong in my thought."
"Say nae mair about it, but hae the papers
ready by Wednesday, as I directed," replied
Claud.
'' I hope and trust, Mr Keelevin," said Mrs
Walkinshaw, " that he's no about his will and
tesf-amcnt. I redde ye, an he be, see that I'm
no negleckil; and dinna let him do an injustice
to the i.?.ve ^ for the behoof of Charlie, wha is, as
I say, his darling chevalier."
Mr Keelevin was as much perplexed as ever
any member of the profession was in his life ;
but he answered cheerfully —
*^ Ye needna be fear't, Mrs W^alkinshaw : I'll
no "wrang either you or any one of the family;"
* Hansel. First gift : implying that it is an earnest of
more to follow.
2 The lave. The remainder.
THE ENTAIL
liil
saruGst of
and he added, lookiiifif towards her husband, "if
I can help it."
" Na, thanks be an' praise, as I understand the
l.'iw, that's no in your i)ower ; for I'm secured wi'
a jointure on the Cirippy by my marriage articles ;
and my father, in his testament, ordained me to
hae a hundred a year out of the harming ^ o'
his lying money, — the whilk, as I have myself
counted, brings in to the gudeman, frae the
>vadset - that he has on the Kilmarkeckle estate,
full mair than a hundred and twenty -seven
pounds. So I would wish both you and him to
ken that I'm no in your reverence;"^ and like-
wise, too, Mr Keelevin, that I'll no faik^ a
farthing o' my right."
Mr Keelevin was still more perplexed at the
information contained in this speech ; for he knew
nothing of the mortgage, or, as the leddy called
it, the wadset, which Claud had on his neighbour
Kilmarkeckle's property, Mr Omit having been
employed by him in that business. Indeed, it
was a regular part of Grippy's pawkie policy not
to let his affairs be too well known, even to his
most confidential legal adviser ; but, in common
transactions, to employ any one who could be
safely trusted in matters of ordinary professional
routine. Thus the fallacious impression which
Claud had in some degree made on the day in
which he instructed the honest lawyer respecting
1 liarmiriih Interest.
^ Reverence. Power.
2 Wadset. Rovorsiori.
* Faik, Almto.
122
THE ENTAIL
the entail was, in a great measure, confirmed ;
so that Mr Keelevin, instead of pressing the re-
monstrance which he had qome on purpose from
Glasgow that morning to urge, marvelled exceed-
ingly within himself at the untold wealth of his
client.
In the meantime Grippy and his leddy con-
tinued walking towards the city ; but the lawyer
remounted his horse, pondering on what he had
heard, and almost persuaded that Claud, whom
he knew to be so close and wary in worldly
matters, was acting a very prudent part. He
conceived that he must surely be much richer
than the world supposed ; and that, seeing the
natural defects of his second son, Walter, — how
little he was superior to an idiot, — and judging
he could make no good use of ready money,
but might, on the contrary, become the prey of
knavery, he had perhaps determined, very wisely,
to secure to him his future fortune by the entail
proposed, meaning to indemnify Charles from his
lying money. The only doubt that he could not
clear off entirely to his satisfaction was the cir-
cumstance of George, the youngest son, being
preferred in the limitations of the entail to his
eldest brother. But even this admitted of some-
thing like a reasonable explanation ; for, by the
will of the grandfather, in the event of Walter
dying without male issue, George was entitled
to succeed to the Plealands, as heir of entail ;
the effect of all which, in the benevolent mind of
THE ENTAIL
li:3
Iionest Mr Keelevin, contributed not a little to
rebuild the good opinion of his client, which had
suffered such a shock from the harshness of his
instructions as to induce him to pay the visit
which led to the rencounter described ; and in
consequence he walked his horse beside the laird
and leddy, as they continued to pick their steps
along the shady side of the road. Mrs Walkin-
shaw, with her petticoats lifted half-leg high,
still kept the van, and her husband followed,
stooping forward in his gait, with his staff in
his left hand behind him — the characteristic and
usual position in which, as we have already men-
tioned, he was wont to carry his ellwand when
a pedlar.
CHAPTER XXI
JL HE young couple were a g od deal surprised
at the unexpected visit of their father and mother ;
for, although they had been led to hope, from tlie
success of the old lady's mission, that their pardon
would be conceded, they had still, by hearinfif
nothing further on the subject, passed the interval
in so much anxiety that it had materially impaired
their iiappiness. Charles, who was well aware of
the natural obduracy of his father's disposition,
had almost entirely given up all expectation of
ever being restored to his favour ; and the despon-
dency of the apprehensions connected with this
feeling underwent but little alleviation when he
observed the clouded aspect, the averted eye, and
the momentary glances, with which his wife was
regarded, and the troubled looks from time to
time thrown towards himself. Nevertheless, the
visit, which was at first so embarrassing to all
parties, began to assume a more cordial character ;
and the generosity of Charles's nature, which led
him to give a benevolent interpretation to the
actions and motives of every man, soon mastered
his anxieties : he found himself, after the ice was
124
THE ENTAIL
125
ice was
broken, enabled to take a part in the raillery of
his mother, who, in high glee and good-humour,
joked with her blooming and blushing daughter-
in-law with all the dexterity and delicacy of which
she was so admirable a mistress.
*'Eh!" said she, '^but this was a galloping
wedding o' yours, Charlie. It was an unco-like
thing. Bell — na, ye needna look down, for ye
maunna expeck me to ca' you by your lang-
nebbit ^ baptismal name, now that ye're my gude-
dochter — for ceremony's a cauldrife commodity
amang near freens. But surely. Bell, it would
hae been mair wiselike had ye been cried in the
kirk 2 three distinck Sabbaths, as me and your
gudefather was, instead o' gallanting awa under
the scog and cloud o' night, as if ye had been
fain and fey. Howsever, it's done noo ; and the
gudeman means to be vastly genteel. I'm sure
the post should get a hag when we hear o' him
coming wi' hundreds o' pounds in his pouch, to
gie awa for deil-be-licket but a gratus gift o'
gudewill, in handsel to your matrimonial. But
Charlie, your gudeman, Bell, was aye his pet, and
so I'm nane surprised at his unnatural partiality ;
only I ken they'll hae clear een and bent
brows that 'ill see him gieing ony sic almous
to Watty."
When the parental visitors had sat about an
hour, during the great part of which the leddy o'
^ Lang-nchhit. Literally, having a long nose.
- See Note A, Annals of the Parish.
125
THE ENTAIL
Grippy continued in this strain of clishmaclaver,^
the laird said to her it was time to take the road
homeward. Charles pressed them to stay dinner.
This, however, was decidedly refused by his father,
but not in quite so gruff a manner as he commonly
gave his refusals ; for he added, giving Charles
the bank-bill, as he moved across the room to-
wards the door, —
" Hae, there's something to help to keep the
banes green ; but be careful, Charlie, for I doubt
ye'U hae need, noo that ye're the head o' a family,
to look at baith sides o' the bawbee before ye
part wi't."
" It's for a whole hundred pound," exclaimed
Lady Grippy in an exulting whisper to her
daughter-in-law ; while the old man, after part-
ing with the paper, turned briskly round to his
son, as if to interrupt his thankfulness, and
said —
" Charlie, ye maun come wi' Watty and me on
Wednesday. I hae a bit alteration to make in
my papers ; and, as we needna cry sic things at
the cross, I'm mindit to hae you and him for the
witnesses."
Charles readily promised attendance ; and the
old people then made their congees and de-
parted.
In the walk homeward Claud was still more
taciturn than in the morning : he was even sullen,
and occasionally peevish ; but his wife was in
^ Clishmaclaver. Wordy nonsense.
THE ENTAIL
127
laclaver,!
the road
y dinner,
lis father,
ommonly
^ Charles
room to-
keep the
■ I douht
a family,
jefore ye
xclaimed
' to her
'ter part-
fid to his
less, and
id me on
make in
hings at
n for the
and the
and de-
ill more
in sullen,
was ii)
full pipe and glee^ and, as soon as they were
1)( yond hearing, said —
" Everybody maun alloo that she's a weel-far't ^
lassie yon ; and if she's as good as she's bonny,
Charlie's no to mean ^ wi' his match, j^ut, dear
me, gudeman, ye were unco scrimpit^ Ir. your
talk to her — I think ye might hae been a thought
mair complaisant and jocose, considering it was a
inaiTiage occasion — ; and I wonder what came
oner mysel' that I forgot to bid them come to the
Grippy and tak their dinner the morn, for ye ken
we hae a side o' mutton in the house. For,
since ye hae made a conciliation free gratus wi'
them, we needna be standing on stapping-stanes,
— no that I think the less of the het heart that
Charlie has gi'en to us baith ; but it was his
fortun', and we maun put up wi't. Howsever,
gudeman, ye'U alloo me to make an observe to
you anent the hundred pound. I think it would
hae been more prudent to hae gi'en them but
the half o't, or ony^ smaller sum, for Charlie's no
a very gude guide, — siller wi' him gangs like
snaw afF a dyke — ; and as for his lilywhite-handit
madam, a' the jingling o' her spinnet will ne'er
make up for the winsome tinkle o' Betty Bodle's
tocher purse."* But I hae been thinking, gude-
man, noo that Charlie's by hand and awa, as the
ballad o' Wool and Married and a' sings, couldna
1 Weel-farH. Well-favoured.
2 I'o mean. To be oondolod with.
^ Scrimpit. Sparing. ■* Tocher purse. Portion.
128
THE ENTAIL
ye persuade our Watty to mak up to Betty, and
sae get her gear saved to us yet ? "
This suggestion was the only wise thing, in
tke opinion of Claud, that ever he had heard his
wife utter : it was, indeed, in harmonious accord-
ance with the tenor of his own reflections, not
only at the moment, but from the hour in which
he was first informed of the marriage. For ho
knew, from the character of Miss Betty Bodle's
father, that the entail of the Grippy in favour
of Walter would be deemed by him a satisfactory
equivalent for any intellectual defect. The dis-
inheritance of Charles was thus, in some degree,
palliated to his conscience as an act of family
policy rather than of resentment. In truth, re-
sentment had perhaps very little to say in the
feeling by which it was dictated ; for, as all he
did and thought of in life was with a view to the
restoration of tlfe Walkinshaws of Kittlestonheugh,
we might be justified, for the honour of human
nature, to believe that he actually contemplated
the sacrifico which he was making of his first-born
to the Moloch of ancestral pride with reluctance
— nay, with sorrow even.
In the meantime, as he returned towards Grippy
with his wife, thus discoursing on the subject
of Miss Betty Bodle and Walter, Charles and
Isabella were mutually felicitating themselves on
the earnest which they had so unexpectedly re-
ceived of what they deemed a thorough recon-
ciliation. There had, however, been something
THE ENTAIL
129
so heartless in tlie behaviour of the old man during
the visit that, notwithstanding? the hopes which
liis gift encouraged, it left a chill and comfortless
sensation in the bosom of the young lady, and her
s})irit felt it as the foretaste of misfortune. Averse,
however, to occasion any diminution of the joy
which the visit of his parents had afforded to her
husband, she endeavoured to suppress the bode-
ment, and to partake of the gladdening anticipa-
tions in which he indulged. The effort to please
others never fails to reward ourselves. In the
afternoon, when the old dowager called, she was
delighted to find them both satisfied with the
prospect wdiich had so suddenly opened, and so
far, too, beyond her most sanguine expectations
that she also shared in their pleasure, and with
her grandson inferred, from the liberal earnest he
had received, that, in the papers and deeds he
was invited to witness, his father intended to make
some provision to enable him to support the rank
in society to which Is.'.bella had been bom, and in
which his own taste prompted him to move. The
evening, in consequence, was spent by them with
all the happiness which the children of men so
often enjoy with the freest confidence, while the
snares of adversity are planted around them and
the demons of sorrow and evil are hovering unseen,
awaiting the signal from destiny to descend on
their blind and unsuspicious victims.
VOL, I.
CHAPTER XXII
(jrRIPPY pnsrsed the interval between the visit
and tlie day apj)ointed for the execution of the
deeds of entail with as much comfort of mind as
Heaven commonly bestows on a man conscious
of an unjust intention, and unable to excuse it to
himself. Charles, who, in the meantime, naturally
felt some anxiety to learn the precise nature of
the intended settlement, was early afoot on the
morning of Wednesday, and walked from the
lodgings where he resided with his wife in Glasgow
to meet his father and brother, on their way to
the town. Being rather before the time appointed,
he went forward to the house, on the green j)l<)t
in front of which the old man was standing, witli
his hands behind and his head thoughtfully bent
downwards.
The approach of his son roused Claud from his
reverie ; and he went briskly forward to meet
him, shaking him heartily by the hand, and in-
quiring, with more kindness than the occasion
required, for the health of his young wife. Sucli
unusual cordiality tended to confirm the delusion
which the gift of the bank bill on Sunday had
13U
THE ENTAIL
l.'U
inspired ; l)iit the ]mr()xysni of .'id'cction, produci'd
1)V the eflort to dis<fuise tlie sense wliioh the old
man suffered of tlie irreparable \vron<r he wuh so
(loijtjedly resolved to eonnnit^ soon went off; and,
in the midst of his conjrratuhitions, eonscience
smote him with such confusion that he was obliired
to turn away to conceal the embarrassment which
betrayed the insincerity of the warmth he had
so well assumed. Poor C'harles, however, was pre-
vented from observing the change in his manner
and countenance by Walter a|)pearin^ at the door
in his Sunday clothes, followed l)y his mother,
with his best hat in her liand, which she was
snu)othin<r at the same time with the tail of
her aj)ron.
" I redde ye,^ my bairn," said she to Walter
as she gave him the hat, '' to take care o' thysel' ;
for ye ken they're an unco crew aye in the Tron-
j;ate on Wednesday ; and mind what I hae been
telling you : no to put your hand to pen and ii^k
unless Mr Keelevin tells you it's to be for your
advantage ; for Charlie's your father's ain chevalier,
and nae farther gane than the last Lord's day, he
gied him, as I telt you, a whole hundred pound
for handsel to his tocherless matrimony."
Charles, at this speech, reddened and walked
back from the house without speaking to his
mother ; but he had not advanced many steps
towards the gate when she cried —
" Hey, Charlie ! are ye sae muckle ta'en up wi'
^ Italdc ye. Beg of you.
1.32
THE ENTAIL
your bonny bride that your mother's already
forgotten ? "
He felt the reproof, and immediately turned
and went baek to make some apology ; but sh<;
prevented him by say in f:^ —
" See that this is no a Jacob and Esau business,
Charlie, and that ye dinna wran<ij poor Watty ; for
he's an easy, troodnatured lad, and will just do
what either you or his father bids him."
Charles laughed, and replied —
" I think, mother, your exhortation should
rather be to Watty than me ; for ye ken Jacob
was the youngest, and beguiled his auld brother
of the birthright."
The old man heard the remark, and felt it rush
through his very soul with the anguish of a barbed
and feathered arrow ; and he exclaimed, with an
accent of remorse as sharp and bitter as the voice
of anger, —
" Hae done wi' your clavers, and come awa.
Do ye think Mr Keelevin has nothing mair to do
than to wait for us while ye' re talking profanity
and taigling ^ at this gait ? Come awa, \^'atty, ye
gumshionless cuif - as ever father was plagued wi' ;
and, Charlie, my lad, let us gang thegither — the
haverel will follow — ; for if it hasna the collie-
dog's sense, it has something like its instinct."
And so saying, he stepped on hastily towards
1 Taif/linr;. Delaying.
2 Cuif. Generally used in the sense of cowardly fellow;
here, evidently, of senseless fellow.
the gat
and wa
was woi
The t
father w
and foil
at the b<
Durin
from the
their m
freedom
proached
never so
When
they fou
the desk
quested
inner eh
'^Noo,
shut the
this step
in the Ia\
fore, fair
motive oi
less marr
Chmd
slightest
adding, '^
to do m
catechise
in this mi
THE ENTAIL
]',i'J
the gate, swinging his staff in his ri^lit hand,
ami walking faster and more erectly than he
was wont.
The two sons, seeing the pace at which their
father was going forward, j)arted from their mother
and followed I im, Charles laughing and jeering
at the beau which VV^alter had made of himself.
During the journey the old man kept aloot
from them, turning occasionally round to rebuke
their mirth ; for there was something in the
freedom and gaiety of Charles's laugh that re-
proached his sj)irit, and the folly of Walter was
never so disaiireeable to him before.
When they reached the office of Mr Keelevin,
they found him with the parchments ready on
the desk ; but before reading them over, he re-
quested the laird to step in with him into his
inner chamber.
"Noo, Mr Walkinshaw," said he when he had
shut the door, " I hope ye have well reflected on
this step ; for when it is done, there's nae jiower
in the law o' Scotland to undo it. I would, there-
fore, fain hope ye're no doing this out of any
motive or feeling of resentment for the thought-
less marriage, it may be, of your auld son."
Claud assured him that he was not in the
slightest degree influenced by any such sentiment ;
adding, " But, Mr Keelevin, though I employ you
to do my business, I dinna think ye ought to
catechise me. Ye're, as I would say, but the pen
in this matter, and the right or the wrang o't's a'
l.'M.
THE ENTAIL
mv ain. I would therefore counsel yon, noo llmt
the papers are ready, that tliey should be imple-
mented, and for that ])iirpose I Jiae brou^lit my
twa sons to be the -witnesses themselves to t he-
act and deed."
Mr Keelevin held up his hands, and, startini^
back, ^ave a deep sii^h as he said — " It's no j)os-
sible that Charlie can be consenting to his own
disinheritance, or he's as daft as his brother."
"Consenting here, or consenting there, ^h•
Keelevin," replied the father, "ye'll just bring
in the ])apers and read them ouer to me ; yc
needna fash to ca' ben the lads, for that might
breed strife atween them."
" Na ! as sure's death, Mr Walkinshaw," ex-
claimed the honest writer, with a warmth and
simplicity rather obsok te among his professional
brethren nowad;iys, howt v er much they may
have been distinguished for those qualities in the
innocent golden age, — " Na ' as sure's death, Mr
Wallcinshaw, this is niair than I hae the con-
science to do ; the lads are parties to the transac-
tion, by their reversionary interest, and it is but
right and j)roper they should know what they are
about."
" Mr Keelevin, ' cried the laird peevishly,
" ye're surely growing doited.^ It would be an
uneo-like thing if witnesses to our wills and tes-
taments had a right to ken what we be(jueath.
Please God, neither Charlie nor Watty sail be
^ Doited. Doted.
onv th(
the bre;
<' We
"ye'll t
ve led 1
power t
of this ^
lose no
" Mr
brief an
this adi)
brouaht
Durii
afflicted
voice in
at the e
task of
he calle
accent, .
Charles i
once sigi
the livir
pen was
" Wh;i
mindful
to ken
payment
''' T'on
t'ou no c
"I'll
M.
THE ENTAIL
135
ony the wiser o' this day's purpose, as hin«r as
the breath's in my body."
''Weel, Mr Walkinshaw," replied the lawyer,
"yell tak your own way o't, I see that; but, as
ye led me to believe, I hope an' trust it's in your
power to make up to Charles the consequences
of this very extraordinary entail, and I hope ye' 11
lose no time till ye hae done sae."
" Mr Keelevin, ye'll read the papers," was the
brief and abrupt answer which Claud made to
tliis admonition ; and the papers were accordingly
brought in and read.
During the reading Claud was frequently
afflicted by the discordant cheerfulness of Charles's
voice in the outer room, joking with the clerks
at the expense of his fortunate brother ; but the
task of aforesaids and hereafters being finished,
lie called them in, with a sharp and peevish
accent, and signed the deeds in their presence.
Charles took the j)en from his father, and also at
once signed as witness, while Mr Keelevin looked
tlie living image of amazement ; but, when the
pen was presented to Watty, he refused to take it.
" What am I to get by this ? " said the natural,
mindful of his mother's advice. " I would like
to ken that. Nobody writes papers without
payment."
"T'ou's a born idiot," said the father: 'Svilt
t'ou no do as t'ou's bidden ? "
" I'll do ony other tiling ye like, but I'll no
sign that drumhead paper, without an advantage :
i:j(j
THE ENTAIL
ye woiildn.'i get Mr Keelevin to do the like o't
without j)ayiiient ; and what for should ye get
me ? Havena I come in a' the gait frae the
Grippy to do this, — and am I no to get a black
bawbee for my pains ? ' '
The laird masked the vexation with which this
idiot speech of his destined heir troubled his self-
possession, while Charles sat down in one of the
chairs, convulsed with laughter. Claud was not,
however, to be deterred from his purpose by the
absurdity of his son ; on the contrary, he was
afraid to make the extent of the fool's folly too
evident, lest it might afterwards be rendered
instrumental to set aside the entail. He called
in one of the clerks from the outer chamber, and
requested him to attest his signature. Walter
loudly complained of being so treated, and said
that he expected a guinea, at the very least, for
the trouble he had been put to, — for so he inter-
preted the advantage to which his mother had
alluded.
*^Weel, weel," said his father, "haud thy
tongue, and t'ou sail get a guinea ; but first sign
this other paper," presenting to him the second
deed, by which, as possessor of the Plealands
estate, he entailed it in the same manner, and
to the same line of succession, as he had himself
destined the Grippy. The assurance of the guinea
was effectual ; Walter signed the deed, which was
witnessed by Charles and the clerk ; and the
disinheritance was thus made complete.
CHAPTER XXIII
v/N leaving the office of Mr Keelevin, Charles
invited his father and brother to go home with
liim ; but the old man abruptly turned away.
Walter, however, appeared inclined to accept
the invitation, and was moving off with Charles,
when their father looked back, and chidingly
commanded him to come along.
At any other time this little incident would
have been unnoticed by Charles, who, believing
the old man had made some liberal provision for
him or for his wife, was struck with the harsh
contrast of such behaviour to the paternal affec-
tion by which he thought him actuated ; and he
paused, in consequence, thoughtfully looking after
him as he walked towards the Cross, followed by
Walter.
Grippy had not proceeded above twenty or
thirty paces when he stoj)ped, and turning round,
called to his son, who immediately obeyed the
summons.
" Charlie," said he, " I hope t'ou'll let nae
daffing nor ])loys about this marriage o' thine
tak up thy attention frae the shop, for business
137
138
THE ENTAIL
maun be minded ; and I'm tliinkin/:^ t'oii had as
weel l)e making up a bit balance-sheet, that 1
may see how tlie counts stand between us."
Til is touched an irksome recollection, and re-
called to mind the observation which his father
had made on the occasion of Fatherlans' ruin,
with respect to the hazards of taking into partner-
ship a man with the prospect of a family.
"I hope," was his reply, "that it is not vour
intention, sir, to close accounts with me .'' "
" No, Charlie, no," was his answer. " I'll
maybe mak things better for thee — t'ou'll no bo
out o' the need o't. But atween hands mak uj)
the balance-sheet, and come doun on Saturday
wi' thy wife to Grippy, and we'll hae some dis-
course anent it."
With these words the old man and Walter
again went on towards the Cross, leaving Charles
sianding perplexed, and unable to divine the
source and motives of his father's behaviour. It
seemed altogether so unaccountable that for a
moment he thought of going back to Mr Keelevin
to ask him concerning the settlements ; but a
sense of propriety restrained him, and he thougJit
it alike indelicate and dishonourable to pry into
an affair which was so evidently concealed from
him. But this restraint and these considerations
did not in any degree tend to allay the anxiety
which the mysteriousness of his father's conduct
had so keenly excited ; so that, when he returned
home to Isabella, he appeared absent and thought-
THE ENTAIL
ISi)
fill, which she attributed to some disappointment
ill liis expectations — an idea the more natural to
lier, as she had, from the visit on Sunday, been
liaunted with an apprehension that there was
something unsound in the reconcihation.
Upon being questioned as to tlie cause of liis
altered spirits, Charles could give no feasible
reason for the change. He described what had
j)assed, he mentioned what his father had said,
and he communicated the invitation : in all which
there was nothing that the mind could lay hold
of, nor aught to justify his stra'^ge and indescrib-
able apprehension (if that feeling mii';ht be called
an apprehension), to which his iinagination could
attach no danger, nor conjure up anything to
be feared. On the contrary, so far from having
reason to suspect that evil was meditated against
him, he had receiv e ^ a posiLive assurance that his
circumstances would j)robably receive an innne-
diate improvement. But for all that, there had
been in the reserve of the old man's manner, and
in the vagueness of his promises, a something
which sounded hollowly to his hope, and deprived
him of confidence in the anticipations he had
cherished.
While Isabella and he were sitting togetlier
conversing on the subject, the old Leddy Plea-
lands came in, anxious to hear what had been
(lone, having previously been informed of the
intended settlements, but not of their nature and
objects. In her character, as we have already
140
THE ENTAIL
intimated, tlicrc was a considerable vein, if not
of romantic sentiment, unquestionably of morbid
sensibility. She disliked ber son-in-law from the
first moment in which she saw him ; and this
dislike had made her so averse to his company
that, although their connection was now nearly
of four-and-twenty years' standing, she had still
but a very imperfect notion of his character. She
regarded him as one of the most sordid of men,
without being aware that avarice with him was
but an agent in the pursuit of that ancestral
phantom which he worshipped as the chief,
almost the only, good in life ; and, therefore,
could neither imagine any possible ground for
supposing that, after being reconciled, he could
intend his first-born any injury, nor sympathise
with the anxieties which her young friends freely
confessed both felt, while she could not but de-
plore the unsatisfactory state of their immediate
situation.
In the meantime Walter and his father were
walking homeward. The old man held no coi>i-
munion with his son ; but now and then he re-
buked him for hallooing at birds in the hedges
or chasing butterflies — a sport so unbecoming
his years.
In their way they had occasion to pass the
end of the path which led to Kilmarkeckle,
where Miss Bodle, the heiress, resided with her
father.
Watty," said Grippy to his son, ^'gae thy
ft
THE ENTAIL
141
ways hame by thysel', and tell thy mither that
I'm gaun up to the Kihnarkeckle to hae some
discourse wi' Mr Bodle, so that she needna weary
if I dinna come hame to my dinner."
'' Ye had better come hame/' said Watty, " for
there's a sheep's-head in the pat, wi' a cuff o'
the neck like ony Glasgow bailie's. Ye'll no get
the like o't at Kilmarkeckle, where the kail's
sae thin that every pile o' barley runs roun'
the dish, bobbing and bidding gude-day to its
neighbour."
Claud had turned into the footpath from the
main road ; but there was something in this speech
which did more than provoke his displeasure, and
he said aloud, and with an accent of profound
dread, " I hope the Lord can forgie me for what
I hae done to this fool ! "
Walter was not so void of sense as to be in-
capable of comprehending the substance of this
contrite exclamation ; and instantly recollecting
his mother's admonition, and having some idea,
imperfect as it was, of the peril of parchments
with seals on them, he began, with obstreperous
sobs and wails, to weep and cry, because, as he
said, " My father and our Charlie had fastened on
me the black bargain o' a law-plea to wrang me
o' auld daddy's mailing."
Grippy was petrified ; it seemed to him that
his son was that day smitten, in anger to him by
the hand of Heaven, with a more disgusting idiocy
than he had ever before exhibited ; and, instigated
142
THE ENTAIL
by the aversion of llie moment, he rushed tow ards
him, and struck liim so fiu'iously with liis stick
that he sent him yell in <; Iiomeward as fast as he
could run. 'J'he injustice and the rashness of the
action were felt at once ; and, overpowered for a
few seconds by shame, remorse, and grief, the old
man sat down on a low dry-stone wall that bounded
the road on one side, and clasj)ing his hands
ferventb,- together, confessed with bitter tears
tbuf lie doubted he had committed a great sin.
It ' .s, ii. 'wever, but a transitory contrition, for,
hearing soii: one approaching, he rose abruptly,
and lifting his stick, which he had dropped in his
agitation, walked up the footpath towards Kilmar-
keckle. He had not advanced many paces when
a hand was laid on his shoulder. He looked
round, and it was Walter, with his hat folded
together in his hand.
" Father," said the fool, " I hae catched a
muckle bumbee ; will ye help to baud it till 1
take out the honey blob .'' "
" I'll go hame, Watty — I'll go hame," was the
only answer he made, in an accent of extreme
sorrow ; " I'll go hame ; I daur do nae mair this
day;" and he returned back with Walter to the
main road, where, having again recovered his
self-possession, he said, "I'm dafter than thee to
gang on in this fool gait ; go, as I bade thee,
hame and tell thy mother no to look for me to
dinner, for I'll aiblins bide wi' Kilmarkeckle."
In saying which, he turned briskly round, and.
THE ENTAIL
143
without ever lookinf^ behind, walked with an
alert step, swini^ing his staff courageously, and
never halted till he reached Kilmarkeckle House,
where he was met at the door by Mr Bodle
himself, who, seeing him approaching up the
avenue, came out to meet him.
CHAPTER XXIV
J>ODLE of Kilinarkeckle, like all the l.iirds of
that time, was come of an ancient family, in sonic
decree related to the universal stock of Adam,
but how much more ancient no historian has yet
undertaken to show. Like his contemporaries of
the same station, he was, of course, proud of his
lineage ; but he valued himself more on his own
accomj)lishments than even on the superior purity
of his blood. We are, however, in doubt whether
he ought to be described as an artist or a })hilo-
sopher, for he had equal claims to the honour of
being both ; and certainly without question, in
the art of delineating hieroglyphical resemblances
of birds and beasts on the walls of his parlonr
with snuff', he had evinced, if not talent or genius,
at least considerable industry. In the course of
more than twenty years he had not only covered
the walls with many a curious and grotesque form,
but invented — and therein lay the principle of
his philosophy — a particular classification, as
original and descriptive as that of Linnaeus.
At an early age he had acquired the habit of
taking snuff", and in process of time became, as
144
TIIK ENTAIL
145
Jill regular snufT-takers are, acute in discriminating
the shades and inflections of flavour in tiic kind
to wiiicli lie was addicted. This was at once the
cause and the j)rincij)le of his science, for the
nature of each of the birds and beasts which he
niodrlled resembled, as he averred, some peculi-
arity in the tobacco of which the snuff that they
severally represented had been made ; and really,
to do him justice, it was (piite wonderful to hear
with what in^jfcnuity he could explain the dis-
criminative qualities in which the resend)lance
of attributes and character consisted. Hut it
must be confessed that he sometimes fell into
that bad custom, remarkable amon*:^ j)hilosophers,
of talking a great deal too nnich to everybody,
and on every occasion, of his favourite study.
Saving this, however, the laird of Kilmarkeckle
was a harmless, easy-tempered man, of a nature
so kind and indulgent that he allowed all about
him to grow to rankness. 'i'he number of cats
of every size and age which frisked in his parlour
or basked at the sunny side of the house exceeded
all reasonable credibility, and vet it was a common
saying among the neighboui*s that Kilmarkeckle's
mice kittled ^ twice as often as his cats.
In nothing was his easy and indulgent nature
more shown than in his daughter. Miss Betty,
whom, she having, at an early age, lost her
mother, he had permitted to run unbridled among
^ To kittle. Originally, to bring forth kittens ; then, us here,
used in the general sense of "to litter."
VOL. I. K
146
THE ENTAIL
the servants, till the habits which slie had ac-
quired in conse((ucnce rendered every subsecjuciiL
attempt to reduce her into the re(|uisite subjec-
tion of the sex totally unavailing.
She had turned her twentieth year, and was
not without beauty, but of such a sturdy and
athletic kind as, with her o})en ruddy countenance,
lau^hin^ eyes, white well-set teeth, and free and
joyous step and air, justly entitled her to the
nickname of '' Fun," bestowed by Charles Walkin-
shaw. She was fond of do«Ts and horses, and was
a better shot than the Duke of Douglas's game-
keeper. Bold, boisterous, and frank, she made
no scruple of employing her whip when rudely
treated either by master or man ; for she fre-
quently laid herself open to freedoms from both,
and she neither felt nor pretended to any of her
sex's gentleness nor delicacy. Still, she was not
without a conciliatory portion of feminine virtues,
and perhaps, had she been fated to become the
wife of a sportsman or a soldier, she might pos-
sibly have appeared on the turf or in the tent to
considerable advantage.
Such a woman, it may be supposed, could not
but look with the most thorough contempt on
Walter Walkinshaw ; and yet, from the accidental
circumstance of being often his playmate in child-
hood, and making him, in the frolic of their
juvenile amusements, her butt and toy, she had
contracted something like an habitual afFectiou
ibr the creature, insomuch that, when her father,
after CI
i)and, si
On the
with th(
wliiinsic
(lings a.'
Kveryth
and hap
and Or
sanguint
hixw the
with a c
the resu
his min(
and evei
to make
" Com I
him at th
your neM
at hame,
^'Trot]
thing th
year, at
Donald
Cross of
the ' lint
•
pleasant
sniffling
knowe ir
whin-bus
^ Beltane
THE ENTAIL
u:
liad ac-
;)sc(|iient
; subjec-
and was
irdy and
itenaiice,
free and
r to the
s Walkin-
and was
s's game-
he made
;n rudely
she fre-
rom both,
ny of her
2 was not
e virtues,
ome the
|ight pos-
e tent to
}ould not
tempt on
Accidental
in child-
of their
she had
affecti(»u
jr father,
after Claud's visit, proposed Walte. for her hus-
hand, she made no serious objection to tiie match.
On tile contrary, slie laughed, and amused iierself
with the idea of making him fetch and carry as
whimsically as of old, and do her bests and bid-
(Ungs as implicitly as when they were children.
liVerything thus seemed auspicious to a speeily
and happy union of the properties of Kilmarkeckle
and Grij)py — indeed, so far beyond the most
sanguine expectations of Claud that, when he
t;aw the philosoj)hical laird coming next morning,
with a canister of snuff in his hand, to tell him
the result of the comnuniication to Miss Ik'tty,
his mind was prepared to hear a most decided,
and even a menacing, refusal for having ventured
to make the proposal.
"Come away, Kilmarkeckle," said he, meeting
him at the door ; " come in by. What's the best o'
your news this morning ? I hope nothing's wrang
at hame, to gar you look sae as ye were fash't ! "
" Troth," replied Kilmarkeckle, " I liae got a
thing this morning that's very vexatious. Last
year, at Beltane,^ ye should ken, I coft- frae
Donald M'Sneeshen, the tobacconist aboon the
Cross of Glasgow, a canister of a kind that I ca'd
the Minty.' It was sae brisk in the smeddum, sae
pleasant to the smell, garring ye trow in the
sniffling ti at ye were sitting on a b(mny green
knowe in hay-time, by the side of a blooming
whin-bush, hearkening to the blithe wee birdies
^ Beltane. The May-day Fair. ^ Cqft. Bought.
148
THE ENTAIL
sinfyin^ san^s, as it were, to pleasure the summer's
sun ; and what would ye think, Mr Walkinshaw r*
here is another eanister of a sort that I'll defy
ony ordinary nose to tell the difference, and yet,
for the life o' me, I eanna gie't in conscience
anither name than the ^ hijipopotamus.' "
" But liae ye spoken to your dochter ? " said
Grippy, interrupting him, and apprehensive of a
dissertation.
'^Ou ay ; atweel I hae done that."
" And what did Miss Betty say ? "
"Na, an' ye liad but seen and heard her, ye
would just liae dee't, Mr Walkinshaw. I'm sure
I wonder wha the lassie taks her light-hearted
merriment frae, for her mother was a sober and
sedate, sensible woman. I never heard her jocose
but anee in a' the time we were thegither, and
that was when I expounded to her how maccaha
is like a nightingale, the whilk, as I hae seen and
read in print, is a fcather't fowl that has a great
notion o' roses."
" I was fear't for that," rejoined Claud, suspect-
ing that Miss Betty had ridiculed the })ropos;d.
" But to gae back to tlie linty and the hi})po-
potanuis," resumed Kilmarkeckle. ^'^The snuti"
that I hae here in this canister — tak a pree o't,
Mr Walkinshaw ~ was sent n.e in a present frae
Mr Glassford, made out of the j)rimest hogget in
his last cargo. What think ye o't } Noo, I would
just speer gin ye could tell wherein it \\\i\\ Yx
likened to a hipp()|)otanuis, tiie which is a creature
living ii
teeth, h
the bla(
Claiul
rejected
subject,
saying t
snuff coi
'^ Tha
chucklin
the most
as like a
sac like
})lainer ;
I thi.ik 1
iug in sc
its muck
i)lack he
water, w
round it.«
giving an
'' But ]
Mr Bodle
'^That'
surely th(
tliat briu!
as yet I'll
in a hipf
tiiink o'
past a' dii
^ Louti,
thp: entail
lif)
iummer s
ciiish.'iw ?
I'll defy
and yet,
jnscieiice
r ? " said
sive of a
i her, ve
I'm sure
it-hearted
>ober and
lier joeose
ther, and
' maccal);i
seen and
IS a great
()
suspect-
jK)s;d.
K" hi})]H>-
lie snutr
pree o't,
sent IVac
lon-n-et in
), I would
t niav It'
i creature
living in the rivers of Afrikaw, and has twa ivory
teeth, hi<i^_ijer, as I am creditably informed, than
lilt blade o* a scythe."
Claud, believing that his proposnl had been
rejected, and not desirous of reverting to the
subject, encouraged the philosopher to talk, by
saying that he could not possibly imagine how
siuitf could be said to resemble any such creature.
"That's a' that ye ken!" said Kilmarkeekle,
chuckling with j)leasure and inhaling a pinch with
the most cordial satisfaction. ''This snuff is just
as like a hippopotamus as the other sort that v.;is
sae like it was like a linty. And nothing could be
plainer ; for even now, when I hae't in my nostril,
I thi'ik 1 see the creature wallowing and wanton-
ing in some wide river in a lown ' sunny day, wi'
its muekle glad een wamling- wi' delight in its
black head, as it lies lapping in the clear caller
water, wi' its red tongue twirling and twining
nuuid its ivory teeth, and every now and then
giving another lick."
'' But I dinna see any likeness in that to snuff,
Mr Bodle," said Claud.
"That's most extraordinary, Mr Walkinshaw, for
surely there is a likeness somewhere in everything
tliat brinns another thing to mind ; and althouuh
as yet I'll no point out to you the vera particularity
ill a hipj)()potannis by which this snuff gars me
think o' the beast, ye nnist, nevertheless, allow
past a' dispute that then.' is a particularity."
^ Loicn. i'oaccful. - Wainliny. Rolling.
i .■")()
THE ENTAIL
Claud replied, with ironical gravity, that he
thought the snuff much more like a meadow, for
it had the smell and flavour of new hay.
" Ye're no far frae the mark, Grippy ; and now
I'll tell you wherein the likeness lies. The hay, yc
ken, is cut down by scythes in meadows ; meadows
lie by water-sides ; the teeth of the hippopotamus
is as big as scythes ; and he slumbers and sleeps
in the rivers of Afrikaw ; so the snuff, smelling
like hay, brings a' thae things to mind ; and there-
fore it is like a hippopotamus.'*
After enjoying a hearty laugh at this triumph
of his reasoning, the philosopher alighted from his
hobby, and proceeded to tell Claud that he had
spoken to his daughter, and that she had made
no objection to the match.
" Heavens preserve us, Mr Bodle ! " exclaimed
Grippy ; " what were ye havering sae about a
brute beast, and had sic blithesome news to
tell me ? "
They then conversed somewhat circumstantially
regarding the requisite settlements, Kilmarkecklc
agreeing entirely with everything that the sordid
and cunning bargainer proposed, until the whole
business was arranged, except the small particular
of ascertaining how the appointed bridegroom
stood affected. This, however, his father under-
took to manage, and also that Walter should g(^
in the evening to Kilmarkecklc, and in person
make a tender of his heart and hand to the
blooming, boisterous, and bouncing Miss Betty.
CHAPTEIl XXV
\V ATTY," said the laird o' Cirippy to his hopeful
licir, caUing him into the room after Kihnarkeckle
liad retired, " Watty, come beu and sit down ; I
want to hae some solid converse wi' thee. Dist
t'ou hearken to what I'm saying? Kihnarkeckle
lias just been wi' me — hear'st t'ou me? Deevil
an' I saw the like o' thee — what's t'ou lookinj^ at ?
As I was sayin<ij, Kihnarkeckle has been here, and
he was thinking that you and his doehter "
"Weel," interruj)ted Watty, "if ever I saw
the like a' that. There was a .Jenny Langlegs
bumming at the corner o' the wintlow, when
down came a spider wabster ^ as big as a puddock,
and claught it in his arms ; and he's oil' and awa
wi' her Lntil Lis nest; — I ne'er saw the like o't."
"It's most extraordinar, Watty Walkinshaw,"
exclaimed his father peevishly, " that I eamia get
a mouthful o' common-sense out o' thee, although
I was just telling thee o' the greatest advantage
that t'ou's ever likelv to meet wi' in this world.
How would ye like Miss Betty Bodle for a
wife ? "
^ Wabstcr. Weaver,
151
152
THE ENTAIL
Oh, father!
t(
I'm saying, wouldna she make a cupllal letidy
o' tlie Plcalaruls ? "
Walter made no reply, but Inuj^hed, and chiick-
lingly rubbed his hands, and t!un delightedly
patted the sides of his thighs Avith them.
"I'm sure ye canna fin' ony fau't wi' her;
there's no a brawer nor a better-toehered lass
in the three shires. What thinkest t'ou ? "
Walter sudderdy suspended his ecstasy ; and
grasping his knees firndy, he bent forward, and
looking his father seriously in the face, said —
"But will she no thump me.'' Ye mind how
she made my back baith black and blue. I'm
frightit."
" Haud thy tongue wi' sic nonseii^c ; that
liappened when ye were but bairns. I'm sure
there's no a blither, bonnier queaii in a' the
kintra-side."
" I'll no deny that she has red cheeks, and
e'en like blobs o' honey-dew in a kail-Made ; but
father — Lord, fathei ! she has a nieve like a
beer-mell."
" But, for a' that, a sightly lad like you might
put up wi' her, Watty. I'm sure ye'U gang fav.
baith e.lst and west, before ye'll meet wi' her
marrow,^ and ye should refleck on her tocher,
the whilk is a wull-ease that's no to be found at
ilka dyke-side."
Ay, so they say ; her uncle 'frauded his aiii
^ Marrow. Equal.
i(
iHi'y aoci
for a legn
"Ye n
her weel,
you the
seen ony
"Av, L
fuiently.
'^ Wha
and terrifi
i" My m
The ol(
thus earn
laugh at
but he ad{
"True!
But an t'l
t'ou woulc
mother."
'' The fil
and thy n
tile land ; '
a wife in a
'^ Weel,
and Kilma:
marry his c
the night i
"But I
(lid sic a I
to try't."
THE ii^NTAIL
153
[ii lecidy
I chuck-
ijL^htcdly
n.
vi* her ;
red lass
sy ; and
ird, and
id—
ind how-
Lie. I'm
,(- ; that
li'm sure
L a' the
n, and
ide ; but
like a
u miij;ht
ang far.
\vi' her
toeher,
c)uiid at
his aiii
ilv dochter, and left her a stockincr fu' o' w^'ieas
f^
for a legacy. But will sine let me go halver? "
"Ye needna misd(^ul)t that; na, an ye, fleech^
her weel, I wouldna be sur])rised if she would gie
vou the whole tot; and I'm sure ye ne'er hae
seen ony woman that ye can like better."
*^Ay, but I hae though/' replied Watty ron-
fulently.
" Wha is't ? " exclaimed his father, surprised
and terrified.
'^ My mother."
The old man, sordid as he was and driving
thus earnestly his greedy purpose, was forced to
laugh at the solenn^ simplicity of this answer;
but he added, resuming his ])erseverance, —
"True! I didna think o' thy mother, Watty.
But an t'ou was ance marriet to Betty Bodle,
t'ou would soon like her far better than thy
mother."
" The fifth command says, ' Honour thy father
and thy mother, that thy days may be long in
the land ; ' and there's no ae word about liking
a wife in a' the rest."
" Weel, weel, but what I hae to say is that me
aud Kilmarkeekle hae made a paction for thee to
inarry his dochter, and t'ou maun just gang ouer
the night and court Miss Betty."
"But I dinna ken the way o't, father; I ne'er
did sic a thing a' my days ; odd, I'm unco blate
to try't."
^ Flcech. Coax.
1.54
THE ENTAIL
"Gudo for^ie me!" said Claud to himself,
"but tlie creature grows sillier and sillier every
day. I tell thee, Watty W'alkiiishaw, to pluck
up the spirit o' manhood, and gang ouer this
night to Kilmarkeckle and speak to Miss Betty
by yoursel' about the M-edding."
"Atweel, I can do that, and help her to buy
her parapharnauls. We will hae a prime apple-
pie that night, wi' raisins in't."
The old man was j)etrified. It seemed to him
that it was utterly impossible the marriage could
ever take place, and he snt for some time stricken,
as it were, with a palsy of the mind. But these
intervals of feeling and emotion were not of long
duration ; his inHexible character, and the ardour
with which his whole spirit was devoted to the
attainment of one object, soon settled and silenced
all doubt, contrition, and hesitation ; and consider-
ing, so far as Wal r was concerned, the business
decided, he summoned his wife to communicate
to \u ( tjje news.
''Girzv Ilypel," said he as she entered the
room, holding by the neck a chicken, which she
was assisting the maids in the kitchen to pluck
for dinner, and the feathers of which were stick-
ing thickly on the blue worsted apron which she
had put on to })rotect her old red quilted silk
p«;^tticoat- — ^'*^(jirzy Hypel, be nane sur])rised to
heUi' of a purpose of marriage soon between
Watly and Betty Bodle."
' No possible ! " exclaimed the leddy, sittinij
down wi
flinging,
her lap,
habitual
<' Wha
angrily t
was goin
- Na,
— let no
it's a thi
aye jealo
for she's
weel-disj
thy ain J
the Plea:
add, "si<
Bodle ; "
the most
and he ii
" Ever;
and a' tl
you, Gir?
wiselike,
order to
" I'm f
to green
o' any p
part and
"owls.-
1 Green ,
Ooivfs.
THE ENTAIL
155
D himself,
llicr every
, to pluck
ouer this
^liss Betty
»er to huy
me applc-
led to him
iage could
e stricken,
But these
lot of lonjr
the ardour
ed to the
id silenced
1 consider-
e business
nmunicate
tered the
which she
to pluck
^ere stick-
which she
ilted silk
■j)rised to
between
down with vehen.ence in lier astonishment, and
flinfrin^, at the same time, the chicken across
her lap, with a certain degree of instinctive or
Imhitual dexterity.
"What for is't no possible?" said the laird
angrily through his teeth, ajiprehensive that she
was going to raise some foolish objection.
"Na, gudeman, an' that's to be a come-to-pass
— let nobody talk o' miracles to me. For although
it's a thing just to the nines o' my wishes, I hae
aye jealoused that Betty Bodle wouldna tak him,
for she's o' a rampant nature, and he's a sober,
weel-disposed lad. My word, Watty, t'ou has
thy ain luck : first thy grandfather's j)roperty o'
the Plealands, and syne " She was going to
add, " sic a bonny, ])raw-tochered lass as Betty
Bodle ; " but her observaticm struck jarringly on
the most discordant string in her husband's bosom,
and he interrupted her sharply, saying —
" Everything that's ordained will come to pass ;
and a' that I hae for the present to observe to
you, Girzy, is to tak tent that the lad gangs over
wiselike, at the gloaming, to Kilmarkeckle, in
order to see Miss Betty aiient the weddintr."
" I'm sure," retorted the leddy, " I hae no need
to irrcen for^ weddings in mv familv ; for, instead
o' any pleasance to me, the deil-be-licket's my
part and portion o' the pastime but girns and
gowls.'- Gudeman, ye should learn to keep your
y, sittin^f
^ (Inrnfor. Long for.
Gowh. Tho hovvlirii;- noises made hv the wind in hollows.
136
THE ENTAIL
temper, and be of a composed spirit, and talk
wi' me in a sedate manner, wlien our bairns are
chan^in^ their life. Watty, my lad, mind what
your mother says — ■' Marriage is a creel, where ye
maun catch, as the auld byword runs, 'an adder
or an eel.' But, as I was rehearsing, I couldu.i
hae thought that Betty Bodle would hae fa'en
just at once into your grip; for I had a notion
that she was ouer soople in the tail to be easily
catched. But it's the Lord's will, Watty ; and
I ho{)e ye'll enjoy a' manner o' happiness wi'
her, and be a comfort to ane anither, like your
father and me — bringing up your bairns in the
fear o' God, as we hae done you, setting them,
in your walk and conversation, a pattern of
sobriety and honesty, till they come to years of
discretion, when, if it's ordained for them, nae
doubt they'll look, as ye hae done, for a settle-
ment in the world, and ye maun part wi' them,
as we are obligated by course of nature to part
with you."
At the conclusion of this pathetic address the
old lady lifted her apron to wijjc the gathered
drops from her eyes, when W^atty exclaimed —
" Eh, mother ! ane o' the hen's feathers is ])lay-
ing at whirley wi' the breath o' your nostril ! "
Thus ended the annunciation of the conjugal
felicity of which Grippy was the architect.
After dinner Walter, dressed and set off to the
best advantage l)y the assistance of his mother,
walked, accompanied by his father, to Kilmar-
keckle ;
not state
(leficiene
saving ])(
his count
favour in
carry bin
broken ii
air and g
there wa
upon the
ing after
bargain t
THE ENTAIL
157
, and talk
bairns are
mnd what
, where ve
»
'an adder
I C()ul(hia
hae fa'cn
I a notion
be easily
fitty ; and
piness wi'
like your
ns in the
inn^ them,
attern of
) years of
hem, nae
a settle-
w'l them,
e to part
keckle; and we should do him injustice if we did
not state that, whatever mi^rlit be his intellectual
deficiencies, undoubtedly in jxrsonal appearance,
saviniL^ perhaps some little lack of mental li^lit in
Ills countenance, he was cast in a mould to find
favour in any lady's eye. Perhaps he did not
carry himself quite as firmly as if he had been
broken in by a serireant of dragoons, and in his
air and ^ait we shall not undertake to affirm that
there was nothin«r lax nor slovenly ; but still,
uj)on the whole, he was, as his mother said, look-
in*,^ after him as he left the house, "a braw
bargain of manhood, get him wha would."
dress the
gathered
ned —
s is play-
:ril!"
conjugal
t.
:)fFto the
mother,
Kilmar-
CHAPTER XXVI
_/V-FTER KilmarkcckU' Imil welcomed Grij)py and
Walter, he l)e<jfan to talk of the hippopotamus,
by showin<r them the outlines of a figure wiiic h
lie intended to fill nj) with the snntfon the wall.
Cland, however, ent him short by pro})osin^, in a
whis])er, that Miss Betty shonld be called in, and
that she and Walter slionld be left toj^etlur,
while they took a walk to discnss the merits of
the hippoj)otamns. This was done quickly, and
accord in<jily the youn<T Luly made lier appearance,
entering the room with a blushing giggle, j)erusin^'
her Titan of a suitor from head to heel with the
beam of her eye.
''We'll leave you to yoursel's," said her father
jocularly ; " and, \\ atty, be brisk wi' her, lad ; she
can thole a touzle,^ I'se warrant."
This exhortation had, however, no immediate
etfect ; for Walter, from the moment she mad*'
her ap])earanee, looked awkward and shamefaced,
swinging his hat between his legs, with his eyes
fixed on the brazen head of the tt)ngs, whiti)
^ Thole a totizlc. Tholr is to endure. Tuuzle is used hero
in the sense of *' rough dulliunoo."
Voi
THE ENTAIL
i:)9
wore |)lact'(J upright astraddle in front of tlie
jiiatc ; but every now and then Ik- peejjed at her
tVoni the corner of his e\e with a (jucer and
luscious glanee, whicli, wliile it amused^ deterred
her for some time from addressing iiim. Dilli-
(Unee, liowever, Iiad nothing to (h) with tlie
character of Miss lietty Bodle, and a feeling
r)f conscious superiority soon overcame the slight
t inbarrassment which arose from the novelty of
her situation.
Observing the perplexity of her lover, she
suddenly started from her seat, and advancing
l)riskly towards him, touched him on the shoul-
der, saying —
"Watty — I say, Watty, what's your will wi'
me
** Nothing," w;>s the reply, w hile he looked up
knowingly in her face.
" What are ye fear't for ? I ken what ye're
come about," said she ; "my father has telt me."
At these encouraging words, he leaped from
his chair with an alacrity unusual to his ehar-
jicter, and attempted to take her in liis arms ; but
she nimbly escaj)ed from his elasji, giving him, at
tlie same time, a smart slap on the cheek,
" That's no fair, Betty Hodle," cried the lover,
rubbing his elieek, and looking somewliat offended
and afraid.
''Tlien what gart you meddle wi' me?" re-
plied the bouncing girl, with a laughing bravery
that soon reinvigorated his love.
IMAGE EVALUATION
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1()0
THE ENTAIL
" I'm sure I wasna ^aiin to do you ony harm,"
was the reply — "no, as sure's death, Betty, i
would rather cut my finger than do you ony
scaith, for I like you so weel — I canna tell you
how weel. But, if ye'll tak me, I'll mak you the
leddy o' the Plealands in a jiffy, and my mother
says that my father will gie me a hundred pound
to buy you parapharnauls and new plenishing."
The young lady was probably conciliated by
the manner in which this was said ; for she ap-
proached towards him, and, while she still affected
to laugh, it was manifest even to Walter himself
that she was not displeased by the alacrity with
which he had come to the point. Emboldened
by her freedom, he took her by the hand, look-
ing, however, away nom her, as if he was not
aware of what he had done ; and in this situation
they stood for the space of two or three minutes
without speaking. Miss Betty was the first to
break silence.
"Weel, Watty," said she, "what are ye goin<j;
to say to me } "
" Na," replied he, becoming almost gallant,
"it's your turn to speak noo. I hae spoken my
mind, Betty Bodle. Eh ! this is a bonny hand ;
and what a sonsy arm ye hae ! I could amaist
bite your cheek, Betty Bodle — I could."
" Gude preserve me, W^atty ! ye're like a wud
dog."
"An' I were sae, I would worry you," was his
animated answer, while he turned round and
devou
instan
liim f
father
off ha
repres
But
maidei
ardent
"Ii
and w
Bodle,
"Oc
pleascc
hurt in
and wh
Howse
a' that
ye'll n(
weel, —
I wiU-
I'll buy
wi lar
Mrs Ba
the Pie
to dark
the twa
you. Be
wise a
vol.. I
THE ENTAIL
161
•e ye goin<,^
devoured her witli kisses ; a liberty whieh she
instantaneously resented by vigorously pushing
him from her and driving him down into her
father's easy-chair — his arm in the fall rubbing
off half a score of the old gentleman's snuffy
representatives.
But, notwithstanding this masculine effort of
maiden modesty, Miss Betty really rejoiced in the
ardent intrepidity of her lover, and said merrily —
'' I redde you, Watty, keep your distance. Man
and wife's man and wife ; but I'm only Betty
Bodle, and ye' re but Watty Walkinshaw."
"Od, Betty," re})lied Watty, not more than half
j)leased, as he rubbed his right elbow, which was
hurt in the fall, " ye're desperate strong, woman ;
and Mhat were ye the waur o' a bit slaik o' a kiss ^ }
Howsever, my bonnie dawty, we'll no cast out for
a' that; for if ye'll just marry me, — and I'm sure
ye' 11 no get anybody that can like you half so
weel, — I'll do anything ye bid me : as sure's death
I will — there's my hand, Betty Bodle, I will ; and
I'll buy you the bravest satin gown in a' Glasgow,
wi' far bigger flowers on't tlian on any ane in a'
Mrs Bailie Nicol Jarvie's aught ; - and we'll live in
the Plealands House, and do nothing frae dawn
to dark but shoo ane another on a swing between
the tvva trees on the green ; and I'll be as kind to
you, Betty Bodle, as I can be, and buy you like-
wise a side-saddle, and a pony to ride on ; and
^ Slaik conveys the sense of slabbering.
- Aujht, Pussession.
vol.. I.
I.
162
THE ENTAIL
■^'ft
•\vlien the winter comes, sowing the hand wi' hail-
stones to grow frost and snaw, w'e'll sit cosily at
the chimley-lug, and I'll read you a chapter o'
the Bible, or aiblins Patie and Rodger — as sure's
death I will, Betty Bodle."
It would seem, indeed, that there is something
exalting and inspiring in the tender passion ; for
the earnest and emphatic manner in which this
was said gave a degree of energy to the counte-
nance of Watty that made him appear in the eyes
of his sweetheart, to whom moral vigour was not
an object of primary admiration, really a clever
and effectual fellow\
" I'll be free wi' you, Watty," was her answer ;
"\ dinna objeck to tak you, but " and she
hesitated.
" But what ? " said Watty, still exalted above
his wont.
Ye maunna hurry the wedding ouer soon."
Yell get your ain time, Betty Bodle ; I'll pro-
mise you that," was his soft answer; "but when
a bargain's struck, the sooner payment's made the
better ; for as the copy-line at the school says,
'Delays are dangerous.* So, if ye like, Betty, we
can be bookit on Saturday, and cried for the first
time on Sabbath, and svne i second time next
Lord's day, and the third time on the Sunday
after, and marriet on the Tuesday following."
"I dinna tliink, W^atty," said she, laying her
hand on his shoulder, " that we need sic a fasherie
o' crying."
t(
cc
THE ENTAIL
\63
" Then, if ye dinna like it, Betty Bodle, I'm
sure neither do I ; so we can be cried a' out on
ae day, and married on Monday, like my brother
and Bell Fatherlans." ^
What more might have passed, as the lovers
had now come to a perfect understanding with
each other, it is needless to conjecture, as the
return of the old gentlemen interrupted their con-
versation ; so that, not to consume the precious
time of our readers with any unnecessary disquisi-
tion, we shall only say that some objection being
stated by Grippy to the first Monday as a day too
early for the requisite settlements to be prepared,
it was agreed that the booking should take place,
as Walter had proposed, on the approaching Satur-
day, and that the banns should be published, once
on the first Sunday, and twice on the next, and
that the wedding should be held on the Tuesday
following.
1 See Note A, Annals of the Parish.
CHAPTEE XXVII
W HEN Charles and Isabella were informed
that his brother and Betty Bodle were to be
bookit on Saturday, — that is, their names re-
corded, for the publication of the banns, in the
books of the kirk-session, — something like a
gleam of light seemed to be thrown on the
obscurity which invested the motives of the old
man's conduct. They were perfectly aware of
Walter's true character, and concluded, as all
the world did at the time, that the match was
entirely of his father's contrivance ; and they
expected that, when Walter's marriage settle-
ment came to be divulged, they would then learn
what provision had been made for themselves.
In the meantime Charles made out the balance-
sheet, as he had been desired, and carried it in
his pocket when he went on Saturday, with his
wife, to dine at Grippy.
The weather that day was mild for the season,
but a thin grey vapour filled the whole air and
saddened every feature of the landscape. The
birds sat mute and ourie,i and the Clyde, in-
1 Ourk. Shivering.
164
THE ENTAIL
!()'>
creased by recent u})land rains, grumbled with
the hoarseness of his wintry voice. The solemnity
of external nature awakened a sympathetic melan-
choly in the minds of the young couple as they
walked towards their father's, and Charles once
or twice said that he felt a degree of depression
which he had never experienced before.
"I wish, Isabella," said he, "that this business
of ours were well settled ; for I begin, on your
account, to grow anxious. I am not superstitious ;
but I kenna what's in't — every now and then a
thought comes over me that I am no to be a long
liver. I feel, as it were, that I havena a firm grij)
of the world — a sma' shock, I doubt, would easily
shake me off."
'^ I must own," replied his wife with softness,
" that we have both some reason to regret our
rashness. I ought not to have been so weak as
to feel the little hardships of my condition so
acutely ; but, since it is done, we must do our
best to beai up against the anxiety that I really
think you indulge too much. My advice is that
we should give up speaking about your father's
intents, and strive, as well as we can, to make
your income, whatever it is, serve us."
" That's kindly said, my dear Bell ; but you
know that my father's no a man that can be
persuaded to feel as we feel ; and I would not
be surprised were he to break up his partner-
ship with me, — and wdiat sl.ould we then do ? "
In this sort of nnxious and domestic conversation
1()()
THE ENTxVIL
they approached towards Grippy House, where
they were met on tlie green in front l)y Mar<^aret
and George, who had not seen them since their
marriage : Miss Meg, as she was commonly called,
being at the time on a visit in Argyleshire with
a family to whom their mother was related, the
Campbells of Glengrowlmaghallochan, and George
also absent, on a shooting excursion with some of
his acquaintances at the Plealands, the mansion-
house of which happened to be then untenanted.
Their reception by their brother and sister,
especially by Miss Meg, was kind and sisterly ;
for although in many points she resembled her
mother, she yet possessed much more warmth of
heart.
The gratulations and welcomings being over,
she gave a description of the preparations which
had already commenced for Walter's wedding.
Na, what would ye think," said she, laugh-
my father gied him ten pounds to gang
intil Glasgow the day to buy a present for the
bride, and ye'U hardly guess what he has sent
her — a cradle — a mahogany cradle, shod wi'
roynes,! that it mayna waken the baby when
it's rocking."
" But that wouldna tak all the ten pounds,"
said Charles, diverted by the circurastance .
''What has he done wi' the rest.^"
" He couldna see any oilier thing to please
him, so he tied it in the corner of his napkin ;
^ Roynes. Rinds.
((
mg
, where
largaret
ce their
^ called,
ire with
ted, the
George
some of
nansion-
^nanted.
I sister,
sisterly ;
bled her
irmth of
ig over,
IS which
ding.
, IdUgh-
to gang
for the
las sent
lod wi'
)y when
;)ounds,"
ostance .
o please
napkin ;
THE ENTAIT.
1G7
but as he was coming home flourishing it round
his head, it haj:)pened to strike the crookit tree
at the water-side, and the whole tot o' the siller,
eight guineas, three half-crowns, and eighieen-
pence, })layed whirr ^o the very middle o' the
Clyde. He hasna got the grief o' the loss
grettin-out yet."
Before there was time for any observation to
be made on this misfortune, the bridegroom came
out to the door, seemingly in high glee, crying,
"See what I hae gotten," showing another note
for ten pounds, which his father had given to
pacify him befoie Kilmarkeckle and tiie bride
arrived, they being also expected to dinner.
It happened that Isabella, dressed in her
gayest apparel for this occasion, liad brought
in her hand, wrapped in paper, a pair of red
morocco shoes, which at that period were much
worn among lairds' daughters; for, the roads
being deep and sloughy, she had, according to
the fasliion of the age, walked in others of a
coarser kind ; and \^ alter' s eye accidentally light-
ing on the shoes, he M-ent up, without preface,
to his sister-in-law, and taking the parcel gently
oul of her hand, opened it, and contemplating
the shoes, holdi ig one in each hand at arm's-
length, said, *' Bell Fatherlans, what will ye tak
to sell thir bonny red-cheekit shoon ? I would
fain buy them for Betty Bodle."
Several minutes elapsed before it was possible
to return any answer; but when composure was
H)8
THE ENTAIL
in some (Icgrcc iv'^aincd, Mrs Charles Walkin-
shaw said —
" Ye surely would never buy old shoes for
your bride ? I have worn ihem often. It would
be an ill omen to give her a second - hand
present, Mr Walter ; besides, I don't think they
would fit."
This little incident had the effect of tuning
the spirits of Charles and his wife into some
degree of unison with the main business of the
day ; and the whole party entered the house ban-
tering and laughing with Walter. But scarcely
had they been seated when their father said —
'^ Charlie, has t'ou brought the balance-sheet,
as I bade thee ?"
This at once silenced both his mirth and
Isabella's, and the old man expressed his satis-
faction on receiving it, and also that the profits
were not less than he expected.
Having read it over carefully, he then folded
it slowly up and put it into his pocket, and
rising from his seat, walked three or four times
across the room, followed by the eyes of his
beating - hearted son and daughter-in-law. At
last he halted.
" Weel, Charlie," said he, " I'll no be waur
than my word to thee — t'ou sail hae a' the profit
made between us since we came thegither in
the shop : that will help to get some bits o'
plenishing for a house — and I'll mak, for time
coming, an eke to thy share. But Charlie and
THE ENTAIL
1 ()<)
Bell, ca' canny ; buiivf ; will rise amon^ you, and
ve maun bear in mind that I hae baith (it'ordie
and Me*; to provide for yet."
This was said in a fatherly manner, and the
intelligence was in so many respects airreeable
that it atlorded the .anxious young couple great
pleasure. Walter was not, however, satisfied at
jiearing no allusion to him, and he said —
'' And are ye no gaun to do anything for me,
father } "
These words, like the cut of a scourge, tingled
to the very soul of the old man, and he looked
with a fierce and devouring eye at the idiot,
but said nothing. Walter was not, however,
to be daunted ; setting up a cry, something
between a wail and a howl, lie brought his
mother flying from the kitchen, where she was
busy assisting the maids in preparing dinner, to
incjuire what had befallen the bridegroom.
" My father's making a step-bairn o' me,
mother, and has gi'en Charlie a' the outcome
frae the till, and says he's gaun to hain but for
Geordie and Meg."
" Surely, gudeman," said the leddy o' Grippy,
addressing her husband, who for a moment
stood confounded at this obstreperous accusa-
tion, ^*^ surely ye'U hae mair naturality than no
to gie Watty a bairn's part o' gear } Hasna he
a riijht to share and share alike wi' the rest, over
and aboon what he got by my father } If there's
law, justice, or gospel in the land, ye'll be obli-
170
THE ENTAIL
jnratod to let him hae liis ri<j:ht, an' I sliould sell
my coat to pay the cost."
The old man made no answer ; and his children
sat in wonder, for they inferred from his silencv
that he actually did uitend to make a step-hairii
of Watty.
" Weel ! " said the lady emphatically, '^ but I
jealoused something o' this. I kent there could
be nae good at the bottom o' that hu<^ger-muf]fger-
inji^ \vi' Keelevin. Howsever, I'll see til't, Watty,
and I'll gar him tell what he has put intil that
abomination o' a paper that ye were deluded to
sign.
Claud, at these words, started from his seat,
with the dark face and pale, quivering lips of
guilt and vengeance, and giving a stamp with
his foot that shook the whole house, cried —
" If ye daur to mak or meddle wi' what I hae
done ! "
He paused for about the space of half a minute,
and then he added, in his wonted calm and sober
voice, — "Watty, t'ou has been provided more —
I hae done mair for thee than I can weel excuse
to mysel' — and I charge baith thee and thy
mother never, on pain of my curse and ever-
lasting ill-will, to speak ony sic things again."
'' What hae ye done ? Canna ye tell us, and
gie a bodie a satisfaction ? " exclaimed the leddy.
But the wrath again mustered and lowered in
his visage, and he said, in a voice so deep and
dreadful, so hollow and so troubled, from the
THE ENTAIL
171
very innermost caverns of his spirit, th.it it made
Jill present tremble, —
''Silence, woman, silence ! "
''Kh : there's Betty Bodle and her father," ex-
claimed Watty, castin<r his eyes at that moment
towards the window, and rushing from his seat,
with an extrava<rant Hutter, to meet them, thus
happily terminating a scene which threatened to
banish the anticipated festivity and revels of
the day.
CHAPTEE XXYIII
LeDDY GRIPPY, having been, as she herself
observed, '' cheated baith o' bridal and infare by
Charhe's moonhght marriage/' was resolved to
have all made up to her, and every jovial and
auspicious rite performed, at Walter's wedding.
Accordingly, the interval between the booking
and the day appointed for the ceremony was
with her all bustle and business. Nor were the
preparations at Kilmarkeckle to send forth tlie
bride in proper trim in any degree less active or
liberal. Among other things, it had been agreed
that each of the two families should kill a cow
for the occasion ; but an accident rendered this
unnecessary at Grippy.
At this time Kilmarkeckle and Grippy ke])t
two bulls who cherished the most dearUy hatred
of each other, insomuch that their respective
herds had the greatest trouble to prevent tliem
from constantly fighting; and on the Thursday
preceding the wedding-day, Leddy Grippy, in
the multitude of her cares and concerns, having
occasion to send a message to Glasgow, and
unable to spare any of the other servants, called
172
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173
ants, called
the cowboy from the field, and despatched him
on the errand. Bausy, as their bull was called,
taking advantage of Iiis keeper's absence, went
muttering and growling for some time round the
enclosure, till at last, discovering a gap in the
hedge, he leapt through, and flourishing his tail
and grumbling as hoarse as an earthquake, he ran,
breathing wrath and defiance, straiglit on towards
a field beyond where Gurl, Kilmarkeckle's bull,
was pasturing in the most conjugal manner with
his sultanas.
Gurl knew the voice of liis foe, and, raising
his head from the grass, bellowed a hoarse and
sonorous answer to the challenger, and in the
same moment scampered to the hedge, on the
outside of which Bausy was roaring his threats
of vengeance and slaughter. Tlie two adversaries
glared for a moment at each other, and then
galloped along the sides of the hedge in quest
of an opening through which they might rush
to satisfy their rage.
In the meantime Kilmarkeckle's herd-boy had
flown to the house for assistance, and Miss Betty,
heading all the servants and armed with a fiail,
came at double-quick time to the scene of action.
But before she could bring up her forces Bausy
burst headlong through the hedge like a hurri-
cane. Gurl, however, received him with such a
thundering batter on the ribs that he fell reeling
from the shock. A repetition of the blow laid
him on the ground, gasping and struggling with
ITi
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rage^ affony, and death ; so that, before the bride
and her alHes were able to drive Gurl from his
fallen antagonist, he had gored and fractured hiin
in almost every bone with the force and stren<jfth
of the beam of a steam-engine. Thus was Leddy
Grippy prevented from killing the cow which she
had allotted for the wedding-feast, the carcass of
Bausy being so unexpectedly substituted.
But, saving this accident, nothing went ami-;
in the preparations for the wedding, either at
Grippy or Kilmarkeckle. All the neighbours were
invited, and the most joyous anticipations uni-
versally prevailed ; even Claud himself seemed to
be softened from the habitual austerity which had
for years gradually encrusted his character, and
he partook of the hilarity of his family, and joked
with the leddy in a manner so facetious that her
spirits mounted, and, as she said herself, ^*^were
flichtering in the very air."
The bridegroom alone, of all those who took
any interest in the proceedings, appeared thought-
ful and moody ; but it was impossible that any
lover could be more devoted to his mistress:
from morning to night he hovered round the
skirts of her father's mansion, and as often a 5 he
got a peep of her lie laughed, and then hastily
retired, wistfully looking behind, as if he hoped
that she would follow. Sometimes this manoeuvre
proved successful, and Miss Betty permitted him
to encircle her waist with his arm, as they ranged
the fields in amatory communion together.
THE ENTAIL
175
This, although perfectly agreecable to tlieir
happy situation, was not at all times satisfactory
to his mother ; and she frequently chicled Watty
for neglecting the dinner-hour, and " curdooing,"
as she said, ''under cloud o' night." However,
at last every preparatory rite but the feet-washing ^
was performed ; and that it also might be accom-
plished according to the most mirthful observance
of the ceremony at that period, Charles and George
brought out from Glasgow, on the evening prior
to the wedding-day, a score of their acquaintance
to assist in the operation on the bridegroom ; while
Miss Meg and all the maiden friends of the bride
assembled at Kilmarkeckle to officiate there. But
when the hour arrived Watty was absent. During
the mixing of a large bowl of punch, at which
Charles presided, he had slyly escaped, and not
answering to their summons, they were for some
time surprised, till it was suggested that possibly
he might have gone to the bride, whither they
agreed to follow him.
Meanwhile the young ladies had commenced
their operations with Miss Betty. The tub, the
hot water, and the ring were all in readiness ; her
stockings w^ere pulled off, and, with loud laughter
and merry scuffling, and many a freak of girlish
jambol, they rubbed her legs, and winded their
fingers through the water to find the ring of for-
tune, till a loud exulting neigh of gladness at the
window at once silenced their mirth.
1 Note A.
176
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The bride raised her eyes ; her maidens, turning
round from the tub, looked towards the window,
where they behekl Watty standing, his white
teeth and hirge dehghted eyes ghttering in the
hght of the room. It is impossible to describe
the consternation of the ladies at this profane
intrusion on their peculiar mysteries. The bride
was the first that recovered her self-possession :
leaping from her seat, and oversetting the tub in
her fury, she bounded to the door, and seiziui^
Watty by the cuff of the neck, shook him as a
tigress would a buffalo.
"The deevil ride a-hunting on you, W^atty
W^alkinshaw ; I'll gar you glower in at windows,"
was her endearing salutation, seconded by tlie
whole vigour of her hand in a smack on the
face, so impressive tliat it made him yell till
the very echoes yelled again. " Gang hame
wi' you, ye roaring bull o' Bashan, or I'll take
a rung ^ to your back," then followed ; and
the terrified bridegroom instantly fled cower-
ingly, as if she actually was pursuing him with
a staff.
" I trow," said she, addressing herself to the
young ladies who had come to the door after her,
"I'll learn him better manners before he's long in
my aught."
" I would be none surprised w^ere he to draw
back," said Miss Jenny Shortridge, a soft «*uid
diffident girl, who, instead of joining in the irre-
^ Rivivt. Heavy stick.
THE ENTAIL
177
sistible laughter of her companions, had continued
silent, and seemed ahnost petrified.
" Poo ! " exclaimed the bride ; " he draw back !
Watty Walkinshaw prove false to me ! He danrna,
woman, for his very life. But, come, let us gang
in and finish the fun."
But the fun had suffered a material abatement
by the breach which had thus been made in it.
Miss Meg Walkinshaw, however, had the good
luck to find the ring, a certain token that she
would be the next manned.
In the meantime the chastised bridegroom, in
running homeward, was met by his brothers and
their companions, to whose merriment he contri-
buted quite as much as he had subtracted from
that of the ladies, by the sincerity with M'hich he
related what had happened, declaring that he
would rather stand in the kirk than tak Betty
Bodle ; which detennination Charles, in the heed-
lessness and mirth of the moment, so fortified and
encouraged that before they had returned back to
the punch-bowl W^alter was swearing that neither
father nor mother would force liim to marry such
a dragoon. The old man seemed more disturbed
than might have been expected, from his know-
ledge of the pliancy of W^alter's disposition, at
hearing him in this humour ; while the leddy said,
with all the solemnity suitable to her sense of the
indignity which her favourite had suffered, —
" Biting and scarting may be Scotch folks'
wooing ; but if that's the gait Betty Bodle means
VOL. I.
M
178
THE ENTAIL
to use you, Watty, my dear, I would see her, and
a' the Kilmarkeckles that ever were cleckit,^ doon
the water, or strung in a wuddy,- before I woaid
hae onything to say to ane come o' their seed or
breed. To lift her hands to her bridegroom '
The like o't was never heard tell o' in a Christian
land. Na, gudeman, nane o' your winks and
glooms to me — I will speak out. She's a perfect
drum-major — the randy cutty — deevil do me good
o* her. It's no to seek what I'll gie her the
morn."
" J^mna grow angry, mother," interposed Walter,
thawing, in some degree, from the sternness of
his resentment. "It wasna a very sair knock
after a'."
" T'ou's a fool and a sumph to say anything
about it, Watty," said Grippy himself; "many a
brawer lad has met wi' far ,yaar ; and if t'ou
hadna been eggit on by Charlie to mak a com-
plaint, i^ would just hae passed like a pat for true
Jove.
" Eh, na, father, it wasna a pat, but a scud like
the clap o' a fir-de.al," said the bridegroom.
"Weel, weel, Watty," exclaimed Charlie, "you
must just put up wi't ; ye're no a penny the waur
o't." By this sort of conversation Walter was in
the end pacified, and reconciled to his destiny.
^ Cle&kit. Brought forth. 2 Wuddy. Halter.
her, and
;it,^ doon
I would
r seed or
egroom •
[Christian
nks and
a perfect
me good
her the
1 Walter,
•nness of
ir knock
anything
I' many a
if t'oii
a com-
for true
icud Hke
a.
lie, "you
le waur
\r was in
itiny.
alter.
CHAPTER XXIX
JN EVER did Nature show herself better pleased
on any festival than on Walter's wedding-day.
The sun shone out as if his very rays were as
much made up of gladness as of light. The dew-
drops twinkled as if instinct with pleasure. The
birds lilted ; the waters and the windows sparkled ;
cocks crowed as if they we/e themselves bride-
grooms ; and the sounds of laughing girls and
cackling hens made the riant banks of the
Clyde joyful fo. many a mile.
It was originally intended that the minister
should breakfast at Kilmarkeckle, to perform the
ceremony there ; but this, though in accordance
with newer and genteeler fashions, was overruled
by the young friends of the bride and bridegroom
insisting that the wedding should be celebrated
with a ranting dance and supper worthy of the
olden and (as they told Leddy Grippy) better
times. Hence the liberality of the preparations,
as intimated in the preceding chapter.
In furtherance of this plan, the minister and all
his family were invited, and it was arranged that
the ceremony should not take place till the
179
180
THE ENTAIL
eveniii'T, wlien the whole friends of the parties,
with tl e bride and bride<Troom at their head,
should walk in procession after the ceremony
froni the manse to Gri})py, where the barn, by
the fair hands of Miss Meg and her companions,
was garnished and garlanded for the ball and
ban(piet. Accordingly, as the marriage-hour drew
near, and as it had been previously concerted
l)y the ''best men" on both sides, a numerous
assemblage of the guests took place, both at Gripj)y
and Kilmarkeckle ; and, at the time aj)pointed,
the two parties, respectively carrying with them
the bride and bridegroom, headed by a piper
playing Hey ! Id us a to the bridal, proceeded to
the manse, where they were met by their worthy
parish pastor at the door.
The Reverend Doctor Denholm was one of
those old estimable stock characters of the best
days of the presbytery who, to great learning and
sincere piety, evinced an inexhaustible fimd of
couthyi jocularity. He was far advanced in life
— an aged man, out withal hale and hearty, and
as fond of an innocent ploy, such as a wedding
or a christening, as the blithest spirit in its teens
of any lad or lass in the parish. But he was not
quite prepared to receive so numerous a company ;
nor, indeed, could any room in the manse have
accommodated half the party. He therefore pro-
posed to perform the ceremony under the great
tree which sheltered the house from the soutli-
1 Couth y. Frank, familiar.
west
shelte
to tru
To thi
dispos
might
or for
was ai
under
"he di
a tree.
The
tion b
been r
" Gu
had ! "
man !
tree, I'
again f^
bare-he
the spc
"No
present
the reli
dinna
I hae
marrir 2
afford
I)ayt fo
gloves
THE ENTAIL
KSl
west wind in winter, and afforded shade and
shelter to all the ])irds of sunnner tliat ventured
to trust tliemselves beneath its hos^iitablc boughs.
To this, however, Walter, the bridegroom, seemed
disposed to r'lke some ol)jection, alleging that it
might be a very good place for field-preaching,
or for a tent on sacramental occasions, "but it
was an unco-like thing to think of marrying folk
under the canopy of the heavens;" adding that
"he didna think it was canny to be married under
a tree."
The doctor, however, Scion obviated this objec-
tion by assuring him that Adam and Eve had
been married under a tree.
"Gude keep us a' frae sic a wedding as they
had ! " replied Watty, " where the deil was best
man ! Howsever, doctor, sin' it's no an apple-
tree. Til rnak a conformity." At whicli the j)ipes
Rgsxin struck up, and, led by the wortliy doctor
bare-headed, the whole assemblage j)roceeded to
the spot.
" Noo, doctor," said the bridegroom, as all
present were composing tliemselves to listen to
the religious part of the ceremony, " Noo, doctor,
dinna scrimp the prayer, but tie a siccar knot ;
I hae nae broo^ o' the carnality o' five-minute
marrif jes, like the Glasgowers, and ye can weel
afford to gie us half-an-hour, 'cause ye're weel
payt for the wind o' your mouth: the hat and
gloves I sent you cost me four-and-twenty shil-
1 Broo. Favour.
182
THE KNTAIL
lings, clean countit out to my brother ( liarlic,
that wouidna, in his ni,<Tgerality, faik me a sax-
pence on a' the liveries I bought frae him."
This address occasioned a little delay ; but order
being again restored, the reverend doctor, folding
his hands together, and lowering his eyelids, and
assuming his pulpit , began the prayer.
It was a calm and beautiful evening; the sun
at the time appeared to be resting on the flaky
amber that adorned his western throne, to look
back on the world, as if pleased to see the
corn and the fruits gathered, with which he had
assisted to fill the wide lap of the matronly earth.
We happened at the time to be walking alone
towards Blantyre, enjoying the universal air of
contentment with which all things at the golden
sunsets of autumn invite the anxious spirit of
man to serenity and repose. As we approached
the little gate that opened to the footpath across
the glebe by which the road to the village was
abridged to visitors on foot, our attention was
first drawn towards the wedding-party by the
kindly, pleasing, deep-toned voice of the vener-
able pastor, whose solemn murmurs rose softly
into the balmy air, diffusing all around an odour
of holiness that sweetened the very sense of life.
We paused, and, uncovering, walked gently and
quietly towards the spot, which we reached just
as the worthy doctor had bestowed the benedic-
tion. The bride looked blushing and expectant;
but Walter, instead of saluting her in the cus-
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IHli
toinary manner, held her by the Iiand at arni's-
lenjifth, and said to the doctor, 'Mie served."
" Ye should kiss her, bridegroom," said the
minister.
"I ken that," replied Watty, 'M)iit no till my
betters be served. Help yoursel', doctor."
Upon which the doctor, wipin<ij his mouth with
the back of his hand, enjoyed himself as lie was
requested.
"It's the last buss," added Walter, "it's the
last buss, Betty Bodle, ye'll e'er gie to mortal
man while I'm your gudeman."
" I didna think," said the reverend doctor aside
to us, " that the creature had sic a knowledge o'
the vows."
The pipes at this crisis being again filled, the
guests, hand in hand, following the bridegroom
and bride, then marched to the ornamented barn
at Grippy, to which we were invited to follow.
But what then ensued deserves a new chapter.
CHAPTER XXX
XXAVING accepted the invitation to come with
the minister's family to the wedding, we stopjx-d
and took tea at the manse with the reverend
doctor and Mrs Denhohn, — the young hidies and
their brother having joined the procession. For
all our days we have been naturally of a most
sedate turn of mind ; and although then but in
our twenty-third year, we preferred the temperate
good-humour of the doctor's conversation and
the householdry topics of his wife to the bois-
terous blare of the bagpipes. As soon, however,
as tea was over, with Mrs Denhohn dressed in
her best and the pastor in his newest suit, we
proceeded towards Grippy.
By this time the sun was set, but the speckless
topaz of the western skies diffused a golden
twilight that tinged every object with a pleasing
mellow softness. Like the wedding-ring of a
bashful bride, the new moon just showed her
silver rim and the evening star was kindling her
lamp as we approached the foot of the avenue
which led to llie house, the windows of which
sparkled with festivity ; while from the barn the
184
THK K\TA[L
18')
merry yelps of two (Ifllj^htcd (iddlt's and the
i(()()d-himi<»uri'd i^rimibliii^ of a woll-pK-uscd l).iss,
min^lin^ with lau<rhtt>r and scjiicaks and the
thuddini^ of bouniUniif feet, made every pulse in
our young hlood circle as briskly as the dancers
in their reeling.
When we reached the door, the moment that
the venerable minister made his appearance the
music stopped and the dancing was suspended, —
by which we were enabled to survey the assembly
for «a few minutes in its most composed and cere-
monious form. At the upper end of the barn
stood two arm-chairs, one of which, appro})riated
to the bridegroom, was empty; in the other sat
the bride, j)anting from the vigorous etlorts she
had made in the reel that was interrupteil by our
entrance. The bridegroom himself was standing
near a table close to the musicians, stirring a large
})unch-bowl and filling from time to time the
glasses. His father sat in a corner by himself,
with his hands leaning on his staff and his lips
firmly drawn together, contemplating the scene
before him with a sharp but thoughtful eye. Old
Kilmarkeckle, witli an ivory snufl'-box, mounted
with gold, in his hand, was sitting with Mr
Keelevin on the left hand of Claud, evidently
explaining some remarkable property in the
flavour of the snuff, to which the honest lawyer
was paying the utmost attention, looking at the
})liilosophical laird, however, every now and then,
with a countenance at once expressive of jidmira-
18(j
THE ENTAIL
tioi; curiosity, and laughter. Leddy Grippy sat
on tne left of the bride, apparelled in a crimson
satin gown made for the occasion, with a stupen-
dous fabric of gauze and catgut, adorned with
vast convolutions of broad red ribands for a head-
dress, and a costly French shawl, primly pinned
open, to show her embroidered stomacher. At
her side sat the meek and beautiful Isabella, like
a primrose within the shadow of a peony ; and on
Isabella's left the aged Lady Plealands, neatly
dressed in white silk, with a close cap of black
lace, black silk mittens, and a rich black apron.
But we must not attempt thus to describe all the
guests, who, to the number of nearly a hundred,
young and old, were seated in various groups
around the sides of the barn ; for our attention
was drawn to Milrookit, the laird of Dirdum-
whamle, a hearty widower for the second time,
about forty-five — he might be older — who, cozily
in a corner, was engaged in serious courtship with
Miss Meg.
When the formalities of respect with which
Doctor Denholm was so properly received had
been duly performed, the bridegroom bade the
fiddlers again play up, and going towards the
minister, said, " Do ye smell onything gude,
sir r
" No doubt, bridegroom," replied the doctor,
" I canna be insensible to the pleasant savour of
the supper."
"Come here, then," rejoined Watty, ''and I'll
THE ENTAir.
is:
show you a sight would do a hungry body good —
Mccl I wat my mother hasna spared her skill and
spice." In saying whieli, he lifted aside a carjjet
that had been drawn across tiie barn like a curtain,
behind the seats at the up})er end of the ball-
room, and showed him the sup})er-table, on whicli
about a dozen men and maid servants were in the
act of piling joints and pies that would have done
credit to the Michaelmas dinner of the Glasgow
magistrates.
*' Isna that a gallant banquet ? " said Watty.
^'Look at yon braw pastry pie wi' the king's
crown on't."
The reverend pastor declared that it was a very
edificial structure, and he had no doubt it was as
good as it looked. " Would ye like to pree't,
doctor } I'll just nip off'ane o' the pearlies on the
crown to let you taste how good it is. It'll never
be missed."
The bride, who overheard part of this dia-
logue, started up at these words ; and as
Walter was in the act of stretching forth his
hand to plunder the crown, she pulled him by
the coat-tail and drew him into the chair ap-
propriated for him, sitting down, at the same
time, in her own on his left, saying, in an angry
whisper, — ^'Are ye fou already, Watty Walkin-
shaw } If ye mudge ^ out o' that seat again this
night, I'll mak you as sick o' pies and puddings
as ever a dog was o' het kail."
1 Mudge. Stir.
188
THE ENTAIL
Nothing more particular happened before
supper ; and everything went off* at the banquet
as mirthfully as on any similar occasion. The
dancing was then resumed, and during the bustle
and whirl of the reels the bride and bride-
groom were conducted quietly to the house to
be bedded.
When they were undressed, but before the
stocking was thrown, we got a hint from Charles
to look at the bridal chamber, and accordingly
ran with him to the house, and bolting into the
room, beheld the happy pair sitting up in bed,
with white napkins drawn over their heads like
two shrouds, and each holding one of their hands
so as to conceal entirely their modest and down-
cast faces. But, before we had time to say a
word, the minister, followed by the two pipers
and the best men and bridesmaids, bringing
posset and cake, came in ; and while the distribu-
tion, with the customary benedictions, was going
forward, dancing was recommenced in the bed-
room.
How it happened, or what was the cause, wo
know not ; but the dancing continued so long,
and was kept up with so much glee, that some-
how, by the crowded state of the apartment, the
young pair in bed were altogether forgotten, till
the bridegroom, tired with sitting so long like a
mummy, lost all patience, and, in a voice of rage
and thunder, ordered every man and mother's son
instantly to quit the room — a command which he
was going
1 the bed-
THE ENTAIL
189
as vehemently i^peated with a menace of imme-
diate punishment, {)utting, at the same time, one
of his legs out of bed and clenching his fist in
the act of rising. The bride cowered in giggling
beneath the coverlet, and all the other ladies,
followed by the men and the pipers, fled pell-mell
and hurly-burly, glad to make their escape.
CHAPTEE XXXI
i:
W HEN Claud first proposed the marriage to
Kilmarkeckle, it was intended that the youn<r
couple should reside at Plealands ; but an oppor-
tunity had occurred, in the meantime, for Mr
Keelevin to intimate to Mr Auchincloss (the gentle
man who possessed the two farms, which, with
the Grippy, constituted the ancient estate of
Kittlestonheugh) that Mr Walkinshaw would be
glad to make an excambio with him, and not only
give Plealands, but even a considerable induce-
ment in money. This proposal, particularly the
latter part of it, was agreeable to Mr Auchincloss,
who at the time stood in want of ready money to
establish one of his sons in the Virginia trade ;
and, in consequence, the negotiation was soon
speedily brought to a satisfactory termination.
But in this affair Grippy did not think fit to
confer with any of his sons. He was averse to
speak to Charles on the subject, possibly from
some feeling connected with the deed of entail ;
and it is unnecessnry to say that, although V. alter
was really princi])al in the business, he had no
regard for what hi:j opinion might be. The conse-
THE ENTAIL
1 r 1
quence of which was that tlie bridcii^room was not
u little amazed to Imd, next day, on proposiii<^ to
ride the Broiis to his own house at Plealands, and
to hold the infare there, thai: it was intended to
he assigned to Mr Auchincloss, and that, as soon
as his family were removed thither, the house of
Divethill, one of the exchanged farms, would be
set in order for him in its stead.
The moment that this explanation was given to
Walter he remembered the parchments which he
had signed, and the agitation of his father on the
way home, and he made no scruple of loudly
and bitterly declaring, with many a lusty sob,
that he was cheated out of his inheritance by his
father and Charles. The old man was confounded
at this view which the natural plausibly enough
took of the arrangement ; but yet, anxious to
conceal from his first-born the injustice with
which he had used him in the entail, he at first
attempted to silence Walter by threats, and then
to cajole him with promises, but without effect.
At last, so high did the conflict rise between them
that Leddy Grippy and Walter's wife came into
the room to inquire what had happened.
"O Betty Bodle ! " exclaimed Walter the
moment he saw them, ^^ what are we to do.^*
My father has beguiled me o' the Plealands, and
I hae neither house nor ha' to tak you to. He
has gart me wise ^ it awa to Charlie, and we'll hae
naething as lang as Kilmarkeckle lives but scant
^ Gart me wise. Caused me to will.
192
THE ENTAIL
M
and want and be^'s^ary, It's no ray faii't, Bettv
Bodle, that ye'll hae to work for your daily bread ;
the sin o't a' is my father's. But I'll help you a'
I can, Betty ; and if ye turn a washerwoman on
the Cireen of Glasgow, I'll carry your boynes, and
water your claes, and watch them, that ye may
sleep when ye're wearied, Betty Bodle — for though
he's a false father, I'll be a true gudcman."
Betty Bodle sat down in a chair, with her back
to the window, and Walter, going to her, hung
over lier with an air of kindness which his sim-
plicity rendered at once affecting and tender;
while Leddy Grippy, petrified by what she heard,
also sat down, and leaning herself back in her
seat, with a look of amazement, held her arms
streaked down by her side, with all her fingers
stretched and spread to the utmost. Claud him-
self was for a moment overawed, and had almost
lost his wonted self-possession at the just accusa-
tion of being a false father ; but, exerting all his
firmness and fortitude, he said calmly —
'^ I canna bear this at thy hand, Watty. I hae
secured for thee far mair than the Plealands ; and
is the satisfaction that I thought to hae had this
day, noo wOien I hae made a conquest of the lands
o' my forefathers, to be turned into sadness and
bitterness o' heart } "
"Wliat hae ye secured?" exclaimed Leddy
Grippy. " Isna it ordaint that Charlie, by his
birthright, will get your lands } How is't, then,
that ye hae wrang't W^atty o' his ain, the braw
prope
will a
ye di
pookc
kittle
Weel
gang
THE ENTAIL
193
property that my wort) father left him both by
will and testament*? Jxii he had been to the fore,
ye durstna, gudeman, hae played at sic jookery-
pookery ; for he had a skill o' law, and kent the
kittle points in a manner that ye can never fathom.
Weel wat I that your ellwand would hae been a
jimp measure to the sauvendie ^ o' his books and
Latin taliations. But, gudeman, ye's no get a'
your ain way. I'll put on my cloak, and, Betty
Bodle, put on yours, and Watty, my ill-used bairn,
get your hat. We'll ouer for Kilmarkeckle, and
gang a' to Mr Keelevin together to make an inter-
locutor about this most dreadful extortioning."
The old man absolutely shuddered ; his face
became yellow and liis lips white with anger and
vexation at this s})eech.
"Girzy Hypel," said he with a troubled and
broken voice, '' were t'ou a woman o' understand-
ing, or had t'at haverel get o' thine the gumption
o' a sooking turkey, I could speak, and confound
your injustice, were I no restrained by a sense of
my own shame."
'' But what's a' this stoor about ? " said the
young wife, addressing herself to her father-in-law.
"Surely ye 11 no objeck to mak me the wiser? "
" No, my dear," replied Claud ; " I hope I can
speak and be understood by thee. I hae gotten
Mr Auchincloss to mak an excambio of the Divet-
hill for the Plealands, by the whilk the whole of
the Kittlestonheugh patrimony will be redeemed
1 Sauvendie. Knowledge, understanding.
VOL. I. N
1.9t
THE ENTAIL
to the family ; and I intend and wish you and
Watty to live at the Divethill, our neighbours
here, and your father's neighbours. That, my
bairn, is the whole stramash."
" But," said she, " when ye're dead will we
still hae the Divethill ? "
"No doubt o' that, my dawty," said the old
man, delighted ; '^'and even lar mair."
"Then, Watty Walkinshaw, ye gaumeril," said
she, addressing her husband, "what would ye be
at ? Your father's a most just man, and will do
you and a' his weans justice."
"But, for a' that," said Leddy Grippy to her
husband, somewhat bamboozled by the view
which her daughter-in-law seemed to take of
the subject, "when will we hear o' you giving
hundreds o' pounds to Watty, as ye did to
Charlie, for a matrimonial handsel ? "
" I'm sure," replied the laird, " were the like
o' that to quiet thy unruly member, Girzy, and
be any satisfaction to thee that I iiae done ni}'
full duty to Walter, a fivescore pound shouldna
be wanting to stap up the gap."
"I'll tell you what it is, father," inteiTuptcd
W^alter, "if ye'U gie the whole soom o' a hunder
pound, I carena gin ye mak drammock^ o' the
Plealands."
" A bargain be't," said Claud, happy to be
relieved from their importunity ; but he added,
with particular emphasis, to Watty's wife, —
1 Dmmmock. Freely, pulp.
THE ENTAIL
195
" Dinna ye tak ony care about what's passed.
The Divethill's a good exrambio for the Plea-
lands ; and it sail be bound, as stiffly as law
and statute can tether, to you and your heirs
by Walter."
Thus so far Grippy continued to sail before
the wind ; and perhaps, in the steady pursuit of
his object, he met with as few serious obstacles
as most adventurers. What sacrifice of internal
feeling he may have made may be known here-
after. In the meantime, the secrets and mysteries
of his bosom were never divulged, but all his
thoughts and anxieties as carefully hidden from
the world as if the disclosure of them would
have brought shame on himself. Events press,
however, and we must proceed with the current
of our history.
CHAPTER XXXII
jtVLTHOUGH Claud had accomplislied the great
object of all his strivin<ifs, and although from the
Divethill, where the little castle of his forefathers
once stood, he could contemplate the whole ex-
tent of the KiUlestonheugh estate, — restored, as
he said, to the Walkinshaws, and by his exer-
tions, — there was still a craving void in his bosom
that yearned to be satisfied. He felt as if the
circumstance of Watty having a legal interest in
the property, arising from the exeambio for the
Plealands, made the conquest less certainly his
own than it might have been, and this lessened
the enjoyment of the self-gratulation with which
he contemplated the really proud eminence to
which he had attained.
But keener feelings and harsher recollections
were mingled with that regret ; and a sentiment
of sorrow, in strong affinity with remorse, em-
bittered his meditations when he thought of
the precipitancy with which he had executed the
irrevocable entail, to the exclusion of Charles, to
whom, prior to that unjust transaction, he had
been more attached than to any other human
106
THE ENTAIL
U)7
I
d the great
h from the
forefathers
; whole ex-
restored, as
y his exer-
1 his bosom
it as if the
interest in
bio for the
ertainly his
lis lessened
with which
minence to
ecollections
I sentiment
morse, em-
thought of
cecuted the
Charles, to
on, he had
er human
l)eing. It is true that, when he adopted that
novel resolution, he had appeased his conscience
with intentions to indemnify his unfortunate
first-born ; but in this he was not aware of tiie
mysteries of the heart, nor that there was a
latent spring in his breast, as vigorous and
elastic in its energy as the source of that inde-
fatigable j)erseverance by which he had accom-
plished so nmch.
The constant animadversions of his wife re-
specting his partiality for Charles and undis-
guised contempt for Watty had the effect of first
awakening the powers of that dormant engine.
They galled the sense of his own injustice, and
kept the memory of it so continually before him
that, in the mere wish not to give her cause to
vex him for his partiality, he estranged himself
from Charles in such a manner that it was soon
obvious and severely felt. Conscious that he had
done him wrong, aware that the wrong would
probably soon be discovered, and conscious, too,
that this behaviour was calculated to beget sus-
picion, he began to dislike to see Charles, and
alternately to feel, in every necessary interview,
as if he was no longer treated by him with the
same respect as formerly. Still, however, there
was so much of the leaven of original virtue in
the composition of his paternal affection and in
the general frame of his character that this
disagreeable feeling never took the decided
nature of enmity. He did not hate because he
lf)H
THK KNTAir.
hud injured ; he was only appreliensive of bfin<r
upbraided for liavin^ betrayed liopes whieli Iw;
well knew his partieular affeetion nuist have
necessarily insjiired.
Perhaps had not he, innnediately after Walter's
marria<jfe, been oeeuj)ied with the le^al arran<^(:-
rnent consequent to an accepted j)roposal from
Milrookit of Dirduniwhande to make Miss Mvir
his third wife, this apprehension might have har-
dened into animosity and been exasperated to
aversion. But the cares and affairs of that busi-
ness came, as it were, in fdd of the father in his
nature, and while they seemingly served to excuse
his gradually abridged intercourse with Charles
and Isabella, they prevented such an incurable
induration of his heart from taking place towards
them as the feelings at work within him had an
undoubted tendency to produce. We shall not
dwell, therefore, on the innumerable little inci-
dents arising out of his estrangement by which
the happiness of that ill-fated pair was deprived of
so much of its best essence — contentment — , and
their lives, with the endearing promise of a family,
embittered by anxieties of which it would be as
difficult to describe the i'.nportance as to give each
of them an appropriate name.
In the meantime, the marriage of Miss Meg
was consummated. We have every disposition to
detail therites and the revels ; but they were all
managed in a spirit so much more moderate than
Walter's wedding that the feast would seem made
*'
^^
THE ENTAIL
VJ9
er Walter's
ii|) but of tlie cold hakemeats of tlie former
baiKjiR't. Indeed, Mr Miirookil, the l)ride«rrooni,
bein^ (as Leddy (Jrippv called bim) a waster of
wives, — having bad two before, and wbo knows
bow many more be may bave contemplated to
iuive ? — it would not bave been reasonable to
expect tbat he sliould allow sueli a free-banded
junketing as took j)lace on tbat occasion. Besides
tiiis, the dowry with (xrip})y's daughter was not
quite so liberal as be had exj)ected ; for when the
old man was stipulating for her jointure, he gave
bim a gentle hint not to expect too much.
"Two hundred pounds a year, Mr Milrookit,"
said Grippy, " is a bare eneugli sufficiency for my
docbter ; but I'll no be overly extortionate, sin'
it's no in my power, even noo, to gie you muckle
in hand. And I wouldna lead you to expeck any
great deal hereafter ; for ye ken it has cost me a
world o' pains and ettling to gather the needful
to redeem the Kittlestonbeugb, the whilk maun
aye gang in the male line ; but, failing my three
sons and their heirs, the entail gangs to the heirs-
general o' Meg, so that ye hae a' to look in that airt :
that, ye maun alloo, is worth something. Hows-
ever, I dinna objeck to the two hundred pounds ;
but I would like an' ye could throw a bit fifty til't,
just as a cast o' the hand to mak lucky measure."
" I wouldna begrudge tbat, Grippy," replied
the gausy widower of Dirdumwhamle ; " but ye
ken 1 hae a sma' family : the first Mrs Milrookit
brought me sax sons, and the second had four, wi'
200
THE ENTAIL
five dcchters. It's true that the bairns o* the last
decking are to be provided for by their mother's
uncle, the auld general wi' the gout at Lunnon ;
but my first family are dependent on mysel', for,
like your Charlie, I made a calf-love marriage,
and my father wasna sae kind to me as ye hae
been to him, for he put a' past me that he could,
and had he no dee't among hands in one o' his
scrieds ^ wi' the lairds o' Kilpatrick, I'm sure I
Ciinna think what would hae come o' me and my
first wife. So you see, Gri})py "
" I wis, Dirdumwhamle," interrupted the old
man, " that ye would ca' me either by name or by
Kittlestonheugh, for the Grippy's but a pendicle -
o' the family property ; and though, by reason o'
the castle being ta'en down when my grandfather
took a wadset on't frae the public, we are obligated
to live here in this house that was on the land
when I made a conquest o't again, yet a' gangs
noo by the ancient name o' Kittlestonheugh, and a
dochter of the Walkinshaws o' the same is a match
for the best laird in the shire, though she hadna
ither tocher than her snood and cockernony."
"Weel, Kittlestonheugh," replied Dirdum-
whamle, " I'll e'en mak it better than the twa
hunder and fifty. I'll mak it whole three hunder,
if ye'll get a paction o' consent and conneevance
wi' your auld son Charles to pay to Miss Meg, or
to the offspring o' my marriage wi' her, a yearly
soom during his liferent in the property, you
* Scricds. Drinking bouts. ^ Pendicle. Pendant.
youi
gOO(
libel
C
any
THE ENTAIL
201
yoursel' undertaking in your lifetime to be as
good. I'm sure that's baith fair and a very great
liberality on my side."
Claud received this proposal with a convulsive
gurgle of the heart's blood. It seemed to him
that, on every occasion, the wrong which he had
done Charles was to be brought in the most
o-ffensive form before him, and he sat for the
space of two or three minutes without making
any reply. At last he said —
" Mr Milrookit, I ne'er rued anything in my
life but the consequence of twa-three het words
that ance passed between me and my gudefather
Plealands anent our properties ; and I hae lived
to repent my obduracy. For this cause I'll say
nae mair about an augmentation of the proposed
jointure, but just get my dochter to put up wi' the
two hundred pounds, hoping that hereafter, an' ye
can mak it better, she'll be none the waur of her
father's confidence in you on this occasion."
Thus was Miss Meg disposed of, and thus did
the act of injustice which was done to one child
operate, through the mazy feelings of the father's
conscious spirit, to deter him, even in the midst
of such sordid bargaining, not only from ventur-
ing to insist on his own terms, but even from
entertaining a proposal which had for its object
a much more liberal provision for his daughter
than he had any reason, under all the circum*
stances, to expect.
CHAPTER XXXIII
feOON after the marriage of Miss Meg, George,
the third son, and youngest of the family, was
placed in the counting-house of one of the most
eminent West Indian merchants at that period
in Glasgow. This incident was in no other
respect important in the history of the lairds of
Grippy than as serving to open a career to George
that would lead him into a higher class of ac-
quaintance than his elder brothers ; for it was
about this time that the general merchants of
the royal city began to arrogate to themselves
that aristocratic superiority over the shopkeepers
w^hich they have since established into an oli-
garchy as proud and sacred, in what respects the
reciprocities of society, as the famous seigniories
of Venice and of Genoa.
In the character of George, however, there
was nothing ostensibly haughty, or, rather, his
pride had not shown itself in any strong colour
when he first entered on his mercantile career.
Like his father, he was firm and persevering ;
but he wanted something of the old man's
shrewdness, and there was more of avarice in
202
THE ENTAIL
'20:;
le career.
varice m
his hopes of wealth than in tlie sordidness of
his father, for they were not elevated by any
such ambitious sentiment as that which prompted
Claud to strive with such constancy for the re-
covery of his paternal inheritance. In fact, the
young merchant, notwithstanding the superiority
of liis education and other advantages, (we may
safely venture to assert), was a more vulgar char-
acter than the old pedlar. But his peculiarities
did not manifest themselves till long after the
period of which we are now speaking.
In the meantime, everything proceeded with
the family much in the same manner as with
most others. Claud and his wife had daily alter-
cations a])out their household affairs. Charles
and Isabella narrowed, themselves into a small
sphere, of Avhich his grandmother, the venerable
Lady Plealands, now above fourscore, was their
principal associate; and their mutual affection
was strengthened by the birth of a son. Walter
and Betty Bodle resided at the Divethill ; and
they, too, had the prospect of adding, as a
Malthusian would say, to the mass of suffering
mankind. The philosophical Kihnarkeckle con-
tinued as successfully as ever his abstruse re-
searches into the affinities between snuff and
the natures of beasts and birds ; while the laird
of Dirdumwhamle and his leddy struggled on
in the yoke together, as well as a father and
stepmother, amidst fifteen children, the progeny
of two j)rior marriages, could reasonably be ex-
i204
THE ENTAIL
pected to do, where neither party was parti-
cularly gifted with delicacy or forbeararce. In
a word, they all moved along with the rest of
the world, during the first twelve months after
the execution of the deed of entail, without ex-
periencing any other particular change in their
relative situations than those to which we have
alluded.
But the epoch was now drawing near when
Mrs Walter Walkinshaw was required to prepare
herself for becoming a mother, and her husband
was no less interested than herself in the event.
He did nothing for several months, from morning
to night, but inquire how she felt herself, and
contrive, in his affectionate simplicity, a thousand
insufferable annoyances to one of her disposition,
for the purpose of affording her ease and pleasure :
all of which were answered by either a laugh or
a slap, as the humour of the moment dictated.
Sometimes, when she, regardless of her maternal
state, would in walking to Grippy or Kilmarkeckle
take short cuts across the fields, and over ditches,
and through hedges, he would anxiously follow
her at a distance, and when he saw her in any
difficulty to pass, run kindly to her assistance.
More than once, at her jocular suggestion, he
has lain down in the diy ditches to allow her
to step across on his back. Never had wife
a more loving or obedient husband. She was
allowed in everything, not only to j)lease her-
self, but to make him do whatever she })leased ;
THE ENTAIL
205
and yet, with all her whims and caprice, she
proved so true and so worthy a wife that he
grew every day more and more uxorious.
Nor was his mother less satisfied with Betty
Bodle. They enjoyed together the most intimate
communion of minds on all topics of household
economy ; but it was somewhat surprising that,
notwithstanding the care and pains which the
old leddy took to instruct her daughter-in-law in
all the mysteries of the churn and cheese-set, Mrs
Walter's butter was seldom fit for market, and
the huxters of the royal city never gave her near
so good a price for her cheese as Lc 'My Grippy
regularly received for hers, although, in the
process of the m ' ' g, they both followed the
same recipes.
The conjugal felicities of Walter afforded, how-
ever, but little pleasure to his father. The ob-
streperous humours of his daughter-in-law jarred
with his sedate dispositions, and in her fun and
freaks she so loudly showed her thorough know-
ledge of her husband's defective intellects that it
for ever reminded him of the probable indignation
with which the world would one day hear of the
injustice he had done to Charles. The effect of
this gradually led him to shun the society of his
own family, and having neither from nature nor
from habit any inclination for general company, he
became solitary and morose. He visited Glasgow
once a week only, on Wednesday, and generally
sat about an hour in the shop, in his old elbow-
206
THE ENTAIL
chair, in the corner ; and, saving a few questions
relative to the business, he abstained frc con-
versing with liis son. It would seem, however,
that under this sullen taciturnity the love which
he had once cherished for Charles still tugged at
his heart ; for, happening to come into the shop
on the morning after Isabella had made him a
grandfather by the birth of a boy, he, on being
informed of that happy event, shook his son
warmly by the hand, and said, in a serious and
impressive manner, —
'^An' it please God, Charlie, to gie thee ony
mair childer, I redde thee, wi' the counsel o' a
father, to mak nae odds among them, but re-
member they are a' alike thine, and that t'ou
canna prefer ane aboon anither without sin ; " —
and he followed this admonition with a gift of
twenty pounds to buy the infant a christening
froci^i.
But from that day he never spoke to Charles
of his family ; on the contrary, he became dark
and more obdurate in his manner to every one
around him. His only enjoyment seemed to be
a sort of doting delight in contemplating, from
a rude bench which he had constructed on a
rising ground behind the house o' Grippy, the
surrounding fields of his forefathers. There he
would sit for hours together alone, bending for-
ward with his chin resting on the ivory head of
his staff, which he held between his knees by
])oth hands, and with a quick and eager glance
THE ENTAIL
i>07
survey the scene for a moment, and then drop
his eyelids and look only on the "round.
Whatever might be the general tenor of his
reflections as he sat on that spot, evidently they
were not always pleasant ; for one afternoon, as
he was sitting there, his wife, who came upon
him suddenly and unperceived, to tell him a
messenger was sent to Glasgow from r3ivethill
for the midwife, was surprised to find him agi-
tated and almost in tears.
"Dear me, gudeman," said she, "what's come
ouer you, that ye're sitting here hanging your
gruntel ^ like a sow playing on a trump ? Haena
ye heard that Betty Bodle's time's come ? I'm
gaun ouer to the crying, and if ye like ye
may walk that length wi' me. I hope, poor
thing, she'll hae an easy time o't, and that
we'll hae blithes-meat - before the sun gangs
doun."
" Gang the gait thysel', Girzy Hypel," said
Claud, raising his head, "and no fash me with
thy clishmaclavers."
" Hech, gudeman ! but ye hae been eating
sourrocks instead o* lang-kail. But e'en's ye
like, Meg Dorts, as Patic and Roger says, I can
gang mysel* ; " and with that, whisking pettishly
round, she walked away.
Claud, being thus disturbed in his meditations,
looked after her as she moved along the footpath
1 (■rrmtel. Snout.
" Bliihta-miat. Meat distributed at the Tirth of the child.
208
THE ENTAIL
down the slope, and for the space of a minute
or two appeared inclined to foHow her; but re-
lapsing into some new train of thought, before
she had reached the bottom he had again re-
sumed his common attitude, and replaced his
chin on the ivory head of his staff.
CHAPTER XXXIV
X HERE are times in life when every man feels
as if his sympathies were extinct. This arises
from various causes : sometimes from vicissitudes
of fortune ; sometimes from the sense of ingrati-
tude, which, like the canker in the rose, destroys
the germ of all kindness and charity ; often from
disappointments in affairs of the heart, which
leave it incapable of ever again loving ; but the
most common cause is the consciousness of having
committed wrong, when the feelings recoil inward,
and, by some curious mystery in the nature of
our selfishness, instead of prompting atonement,
irritate us to repeat and to persevere in our
injustice.
Into one of these temporary trances Claud had
fallen when his wife left him ; and he con,tinued
sitting, with his eyes riveted on the ground,
insensible to all the actual state of life, contem-
plating the circumstances and condition of his
children as if he had no interest in their fate, nor
could be affected by anything in their fortunes.
In this fit of apathy and abstraction, he was
roused by the sound of some one approaching;
VOL. I.
209
O
210
THE ENTAIL
^11!
and OH I()okin<^ u]), and turii;:i_ir his eyes to-
wards the path which led from the house to
the bench M'here he was then sitting, he saw
Walter coming.
There was something unwonted in the appear-
ance and gestures of Walter which soon interested
the old man. At one moment he rushed forward
several steps, wiLh a strange wildness of air. He
woidd then stoji and wring his hands, gaze up-
ward, as if he wondered at some extraordinary
phenomenon in the sky; but seeing nothing, he
dro})pcd his hands, and, at his ordinary pace,
came slowly up tlie hill.
When he arrived within a few paces of the
bench he halted, and looked with such an open
and innocent sadness that even the heart of his
father, which so shortly before was as inert to
humanity as case-hardened iron, throbbed with
pity, and was melted to a degree of softness
and compassion almost entirely new to its sen-
sibilities.
'^ What's the matter wi' thee, Watty.''" said
he with unusual kindliness.
The poor natural, however, made no reply, but
continued to gaze at him with the same inex-
pressible simplicity of grief.
" Hast t'ou lost ony thing, Watty } "
" I dinna ken," was the answer, followed by a
burst of tears.
'■'Surely something dreadfu' has befallen the
lad," said Claud to himself, alarmed at the
s eyes to-
; house to
ig, he s«'iw
:he appear-
i interested
led forward
of air. He
s, gaze up-
:traordinary
lothing, he
inary pace,
ices of tlie
ch an open
lieart of his
as inert to
bbed with
of softness
to its sen-
itty ? " said
reply, but
isame inex-
lowed by a
^fallen the
id at the
THE ENTAIL
211
astonishment of sorrow with which his faculties
seemed to be ])ound up.
"(van t'ou no tell me what has happened,
Watty ? "
In about the space of half a minute Walter
moved his eyes slowly round, as if he saw and
followed something which filled him with a^/e and
dread. He then suddenly checked himself, and
said, "It's naething — she's no there."
"Sit down beside me, Watty/' exclaimed his
father, alarmed ; " sit down beside me, and com-
pose thysel'."
Walter did as he was bidden, and stretching
out his feet, hung forward in such a posture of ex-
treme listlessness and helpless despondency that
all power of action appeared to be withdrawn.
Claud rose, and believing he was only under the
influence of some of those silly passions to which
he was occasionr.lly subject, moved to go away,
when he looked up, and said —
" Father, Betty Bodle's dead ! My Betty Bodle's
dead ! "
" Dead ! " said Claud, thunderstruck.
" Ay, father, she's dead ! My Betty Bodle's
dead ! "
" Dost t'ou ken what t'ou's sayiiig } "
But W^alter, without attending to the question,
repeated, with an accent of tenderness still more
simple and touching, —
" My Betty Bodle's dead ! She's awa' up aboon
the skies yon'er, and left me a wee wee baby ; "
212
THE ENTAIL
in saying which he a^faiii burst into tears, and
rising hastily from the beneh, ran wildly back
towards the Divethill House, whither he was
followed by the old man, where the disastrous
intelligence was conHrmed that she had died in
giving birth to a daughter.
Deep and secret as Claud kept his feelings from
the eyes of the world, this was a misfortune which
he was ill prepared to withstand ; for although in
the first shock he betrayed no emotion, it was
soon evident that it had shattered some of the
firmest intents and purposes of his mind. That
he regretted the premature death of a beautiful
young woman in such interesting circumstances
was natural to him as a man ; but he felt the
event more as a personal disappointment, and
thought it was accompanied with something so
like retribution that he inwardly trembled as if
he had been chastised by some visible arm of
Providence. For he could not disguise to himself
that a female heir was a contingency he had
not contemplated : that, by the catastrophe which
had happened to the mother, the excambio of the
Plealands for the Divethill would be rendered of
no avail ; and that, unless Walter married again,
and had a son, the reunited Kittlestonheugh pro-
perty must again be disjoined, as the Divethill
would necessarily become the inheritance of the
daughter.
The vexation of this was alleviated, however,
when he reflected on the pliancy of Walter's char-
TIIK ENTAIL
^2\3
ac'tcr ; aiul lie comforted liiins(^lf with the idea
that, as soon as a reasonahK; sacrifiee of time
liad been made to decorum, he wouhl he ahle to
induce the natural to m.irry a<^ain. Shall we ven-
ture to say it also occurred in the co<ritations of
his sordid ambition that, as the infant was ])re-
niaturely boni, and was feeble and infirm, he
entertained some hope it mi^ht die, and not in-
terfere with the entailed destination of the general
estate ? But if, in hazardin<r this harsh supposi-
tion, we do him any injustice, it is certain that he
began to think there was something in the current
of human affairs over which he could acquire no
control ; and that, although in pursuing so steadily
the single purpose of recovering his family in-
heritance, his endeavours had, till this period,
])roved eminently successful, he yet saw with
dismay that, from t'le moment other interests
came to be blended with those which he con-
sidered so peculiarly his own, other causes also
came into operation, and turned, in spite of all
his hedging and prudence, the whole issue of his
labours awry. He perceived that human power
was set at naught by the natural course of things ;
and nothing produced a more painful conviction
of the wrong he had committed against his first-
born than the frustration of his wishes by the
misfortune which had befallen Walter. His
reflections were embittered also from another
source : by his jjarsimony he foresaw that, in the
course of a few years, he would have been able.
^14
THE ENTAIL
from his own funds, to have redeemed the Divet-
liill without having had recourse to the excambio,
and that the whole of the Kittlestonheugh miglit
thus have been his own conquest, and, as sueli,
without violating aii)'^ of the usages of society, he
might have commenced the entail with Charles.
In a word, the death of Walter's wife and the
birth of the daughter disturbed all his schemes,
and re.'t from roof to foundation the castles which
he had been so Icng and so arduously building.
But it is necessary that we should return to
poor Walter, on whom the loss of his beloved
Betty Bodle acted with the incitement of a new
impulse, and produced a change of character that
rendered him a far less tractable instrument than
his father expected to find.
sion
CHAPTER XXXV
_L HE sorrow of Walter, after he had returned
home, assumed the appearance of a cahn and
settled melancholy. He sat beside the corpse
with his hands folded and his head drooping'.
He made no answer to any question ; but as often
as he heard the infant's cry he looked towards
the bed, and said, with an accent of indescribable
sadness, " My Betty Bodle ! "
When the coffin arrived, his mother wished
him to leave the room, apprehensive, from the
profound grief in which he was plunged, that he
might break out into some extravagance of pas-
sion ; but he refused, and, when it was brought
in, he assisted with singular tranquillity in the
ceremonial of the coffining. But when the lid
was lifted and placed over the body, and the
carpenter was preparing to fasten it down for
ever, he shuddered for a moment from head to
foot ; and, raising it with his left hand, he took
a last look of the face, removing the veil with his
right, and touching the sunken cheek as if he
had hoped still to feel some ember of life : but it
was cold and stiff.
215
216
THE ENTAIL
tc
She's C'l;iy noo," said he. "There's ruiiie o'
my Betty Bodle here."
And he turned away with a careless air, as if lie
had no further interest in the scene. From that
moment his artless affections took another direc-
tion ; immediately he quitted the death-room,
and going to the nursery where the infant lay
asleep in the nurse's lap, contemplated it for
some time, and then, with a cheerful and happy
look and tone, said — " It's a wee Betty Bodle ;
and it's my Betty Bodle noo." And all liis time
and thoughts thenceforth were devoted to this
darling object, insomuch that when the hour of
the funeral was near, and he was requested to
dress himself to perform the husband's customary
part in the solemnity, he refused, not only to quit
the child, but to have anything to do with the
burial.
"I canna understand," said he, "what for a'
this fykerie's about a lump o' vird } Sho'elt intil
a hole, and no fash me." ^
" It's your wife, my lad," replied his mother ;
"ye'll surely never refuse to carry her head in a
gudeman-like manner to the kirkyard."
" Na, na, mother : Betty Bodle's my wife : yon
clod in the black kist is but her auld boddice ;
and when she flang't off, she put on this bonny
wee new cleiding o' clay," said he, pointing to
the baby.
The leddy, after some further remonstrance,
1 A lump of earth. Shovel it . . . and don't trouble me.
THE ENTAIL
217
jre s naiie o
liis mother;
r head in a
was (lisooncertcd by the pertinacity with wlVh
lie continued to adhere to iiis resolution, and
went to beg her husband to interfere.
'^Ye'll hae to gang ben, gudeman," said she,
^'and speak to Watty. I wish the poor thing
hasna gane by itsel' wi' a broken heart. He
threeps ^ that the body is no his wife's, and ca's
it a hateral ^ o' clay and stones, and says we may
fling't — Gude guide us ! — ayont the midden for
him. We'll just be affrontit if he'll no carry the
head."
Claud, who had dressed himself in the morning
for the funeral, was sitting in the elbow-chair,
on the right side of the chimney-place, with his
cheek resting on his hand and his eyelids
dropped, but not entirely shut ; and, on being
thus addressed, he instantly rose and went to
the nursery.
'' What's t'ou doing there like a hussy fellow } "
said he. " Rise and get on thy mournings, and
behave wiselike, and leave the bairn to the
women."
" It's my bairn," replied Watty, " and ye hae
naething, father, to do wi't. Will I no tak care
o' my ain baby — my bonny wee Betty Bodle } "
"Do as I bid thee, or I'll maybe gar thee fin
the weight o' my staff," cried the old man sharply,
expecting immediate obedience to his commands,
such as he always found, however positively Walter,
1 Threeps.
2 Hatei'al.
Keeps insisting.
A confused heap.
218
THE ENTAIL
on other occasions, at first refused. But in this
instance he was disappointed ; for the widower
looked him steadily in the face, and said —
"I'm a father noo ; it would be an awfu' thing
for a decent grey-headed man like you, father, to
strike the head o' a motherless family."
Claud was so strangely affected by the look
and accent with which this was expressed that
he stood for some time at a loss what to sav ; but
soon recovering his self-possession, he replied, in
a mild and persuasive manner,—
'^The frien's expeck, Watty, that ye'U attend
the burial, and carry the head, as the use and
wont is in every weel-doing family."
*' It's a thriftless custom, father ; and what
care I for burial-bread and services o* wine } i
They cost siller, father, and I'll no wrang Betty
Bodle for ony sic outlay on her auld yirdcn gar-
ment. Ye may gang, for fashion's cause, wi' your
weepers and your mourning-strings, and lay the
black kist i' tlie kirkyard hole ; but I'll no mudge
the ba' o' my muckle tae in ony sic road."
''T'ou's past remede, I fear," replied his father
thoughtfully ; " but, Watty, I liope in this t'ou'll
oblige thy mother and me, and put on thy new
black claes — t'ou ken's they're in a braw fashion
— and come ben and receive the guests in a douce
and sober manner. The minister, I'm thinking,
will soon be here, and t'ou should be in the way
when he comes."
1 Soo Note A, Anncds of the Parish.
t(
((
THE ENTAIL
UW
"So," said Watty, "no; do as ye like, and
come wha may, it's a' ane to me : I'm jiositceve."
The old man, losing all self-command at this
extraordinary opposition, exclaimed —
"There's a judgment in this; and if there's
power in the law o' Scotland I'll gar thee rue
sic dourness. Get up, I say, and put on thy
mournings, or I'll hae thee cognost and sent
to bedlam ! "
" I'm sure I look for nae mair at your hands,
father," replied Walter simply; "for my mither
has often tel't me, when ye hae been sitting
sour and sulky in the nook, that ye wouldna be-
grudge crowns and pounds to mak me compos
mentis for the benefit of Charlie."
Every pulse in the veins of Claud stood still
at this stroke, and he staggered, overwhelmed
with shame, remorse, and indignation, into a seat.
"Eh ! " said the leddy, returning into the room
at this juncture, ''what's come ouer you, gude-
man ? Pity me, will he no do your bidding ? "
"Girzy Hypel," was the hoarse and emphatic
reply, "Girzy Hypel, t'ou's the curse o' my life.
The folly in thee has altered to idiotical de-
})ravity in him ; and the wrong I did against
iny ain nature in marrying thee, I maun iioo, in
my auld age, reap the fruits o' in sorrow, and
shame, and sin."
" Here's composity for a burial ! " exclaimed the
leddy. " What's the matter, Watty Walkinshaw .'^ "
((
My father's in a passion."
^ /^ v/
THE ENTAIL
Claud starccd from his seat, and, with fury in
liis eyes and his liands clenched, rushed across
the room towards the spot where Walter was
sitting, watching the infant in the nurse's laj).
In the same moment the affectionate natural
also sprang forward and placed himself in an
attitude to protect the child. The fierce old
man was confounded, and, turning round hastily,
(juitted the room wringing his hands, unable any
longer to master the conflicting feelings which
warred so wildly in his bosom.
"^This is a pretty-like house o' mourning,"
said the leddy : " a father and a son fighting,
and a dead body Avaiting to be ta'en to the kirk-
yard. O Watty Walkinshaw ! Watty Walkinshaw !
Many a sore heart ye hae gien your parents.
Will ye ne'er divaul ^ till ye hae brought our grey
haixs wi' sorrow to the grave } There's your
poor father flown demented, and a* the comfort
in his cup and mine gane like water spilt on the
ground. Many a happy day we hae had till this
condumacity o' thine grew to sic a head. But
tak your ain way o't. Do as ye like. Let
strangers carry your wife to the kirkyard, and
see what ye'll mak o't."
Notwithstanding all these arguments and many
more equally persuasive and commanding, W^alter
was not to be moved, and the funeral, in conse-
quence, was obliged to be performed without him.
Yet still, though thus tortured in his feelings, the
^ Divaul. Cease.
>5
THE ENTAIL
221
stem old man inflexibly adhered to his purpose.
The entail which he had executed was still with
him held irrevocable; and, indeed, it had been
so framed that, unless he rendered himself in-
solvent, it could not be set aside.
CHAPTER XXXVI
J.^ OR some time after the funeral of Mrs Walter
Walkinshaw the affairs of the Grippy family ran
in a strai<;ht and even current. The estrangement
of the old man from his first-born suffered no
describable increase ; but Charles felt that it was
increasing. The old leddy, in the meanwhile, had
a world of cares upon her hands in breaking up the
establishment which had been formed for Walter
at the house on the Divethill, and in removing
him back with the infant and the nurse to Grippy ;
and scarcely had she accomplished these when a
letter from her daughter, Mrs Milrookit, informed
her that the preparations for an addition to the
'' sma' family " of Dirdumwhamle were complete,
and that she hoped her mother could be present
on the occasion, which was expected to come to
pass in the course of a few weeks from that
date.
Nothing was more congenial to the mind and
habits of the leddy than a business of this sort,
or, indeed, any epochal domestic event, such
as, in her own })hraseology, was entitled to the
epithet of a handling. But when she men-
222
THE ENTAIL
-■W ow 1/
tioned the subject to her husband lie objected,
saying—
^' It's no possible, Girzy, for ye ken Mr and Mrs
(livan are to be here next week with their dochter,
Miss Peg^y, and I would fain hae them to see an
onything could be brought to a head between he r
and our Geordie. He's noo o' a time o' life when
I would like he were settled in the world ; and
amang a' our frien's there's no a family I would
be mair content to see him connected wi' than
the Givans, who are come o' the best blood, and
are, moreover, o' great wealth and property."
" Weel, if e'er there was the like o' you, gude-
man," replied the leddy, delighted with the news ;
"an' ye were to set your mind on a purpose o'
marriage between a goose and a grumphie, I dinna
think but ye would make it a' come to pass ; for
wha would hae thought o' this plot on the Givans,
who, to be sure, are a most creditable family, and
Miss Peggy, their dochter, is a very genty creature,
although it's my notion she's no o' a capacity to
do muckle in the way o' throughgality. Hows-
ever, she's a bonny playock, and noo that the
stipend ye alloo't to Watty is at an end, by reason
of that heavy loss which we all met wi' in his wife,
ye'll can weel afford to help Geordie to keep her
out in a station o' life : for times, gudeman, are
no noo as when you and me cam thegither. Then,
a bien house and a snod but and ben were a'
that was lookit for ; but sin' genteelity came into
fashion, lads and lasses hae grown leddies and
oo.t
THE ENTAIL
pjcntlemen, and a Glasgow wife sallying to the
kirk wi' her iiiufFand her mantle looks as puckered
wi' pride as my lord's leddy."
Claud, who knew W(;ll that his helpmate was
.ible to continue her desul iv consultations as long
as she could keep herself awake, here endea-
voured to turn the speat ^ of her clatter into a
new channel, by observing that hitherto they had
not enjoyed any great degree of comfort in the
marriages of their family.
'' Watty's," said he, " ye see, has in a manner
been waur than nane ; for a' we hae gotten by't
is that weakly lassie bairn ; and the sumph - him-
sel* is sae taen up wi't that he's a perfect obduracy
to every wish o' mine that he would tak another
wife to raise a male-heir to the family."
" I'm sure," replied the leddy, " it's just a sport
to hear you, gudeman, and your male - heirs.
What for can ye no be content wi' Charlie's
son ?
The countenance of Grippy was instantaneously
clouded ; but in a moment the gloom passed, and
he said —
'' Girzy Hypel, t'ou kens naething about it.
Willna Watty's dochter inherit the Divethill by
right o' her father, for the Plealands, and so rive
the heart again out o' the Kittlestonheugh, and
mak a' my ettling fruitless ? Noo, what I wish is
that Geordie should tak a wife to himsel' as soon
as a possibility will alloo ; and if he has a son, by
1 Speat. Full flood. 2 Sumph. Softy.
THE ENTAIL
itv "v *9
1 a manner
course o' nature, it mii:^ht be wised ^ in time to
marry Watty's doeliter, and so to keep the pro-
perty frae gan^in^ out o' the family."
" Noo, gudeman, thole wi' me, and no he angry,"
rcj)lied the leddy, *' for I eanna but say it's a thing
past ordinar that ye never seem to refleet that
Ciiarlie's laddie might just as weel be wised to
marry Watty's doehter as ony son that Geordie's
like to get ; and, over and moreover, the wean's in
the world already, gudeman, but a' Geordie's are
as trouts in the water ; so I redde you to eonsider
weel what ye're doing, and gut nae fish till ye
catch them."
During this speech Claud's face was again
overcast ; the harsh and agonising discord of his
l)osom rudely jangled through all the depths of
his conscience, and reminded him how futile his
■wishes and devices might be rendered either by
the failure of issue or by the birth of daughters.
I'iVerything seemed arranged by Providence to
keep the afflicting sense of the wrong he had
(lone his first-born constantly galled. But it had
not before occurred to him that even a marriage
between the son of Charles and Walter's daughter
could not remedy the fault he had committed.
The heirs-male of George had a preference in the
entail, and such a marriage would in no degree
tend to prevent the Kittlestonheugh from being
again disjoined. In one sentence, the ambitious old
man was miserable ; but, rather than yet consent
1 Wised. Induced.
VOL. I. P
t^.A
22()
THE ENTAIL
to retrace any step he bad taken, he persevered
in his original course, as if tiie (ire ni liis heart
could be subdued by addin*^ fresli piles of the
same fuel. The match which he had formed
for C/eor^e was accordini^ly brought to what he
deemed a favourable issue ; for (Jeorge, possess-
in<jf but little innate delicacy, and only ea;j:er to
become rich, had no scruple in j)roposing himself.
at his father's sufrgestion, to Miss Peggy Clivan ;
and the young lady being entirely under the
control of her mother, who regarded a union
with her relations, the Grippy family, as one of
the most desirable, peaceably acquiesced in the
arrangement.
Prior, however, to the marriage taking place,
Mr Givan, a shrewd and worldly man, conceiv-
ing that (xeorge was a younger son, his elder
brother married, and Walter's daughter standing
between him and the succession to the estate,
stipulated that the bridegroom should be settled
as a principal in business. A short delay in con-
sequence occurred between the arrangement and
the solenmisation ; but the difficulty was over-
come by the old man advancing nearly I he whole
of his ready money as a proportion of the capital
"which was required by the house that received
George into partnership. Perhaps he might have
been spared this sacrifice (for as such he felt it)
could he have brought himself to divulge to Mr
Givan the nature of the entail which he had exe-
cuted ; bat the shame of that transaction had by
TIIR ENTAIL
oi)7
this time sunk so dcfp that he often wislied and
tried to eonsider tlie deed as havin«r no existenee.
Meanwhile Mrs Milrookit liad heeonie tlie
mother of a son, — the only oecurrence wliieh, for
some time, liad t»iven (land any unalloyed satis-
faetion. But it also was soon converted into a
new source of vexation and of punishment ; for
Leddy Grii)py, ever dotin^ly fond of Walter,
determined, from the first hour in which she
heard of tlie birth of VValkinshaw Milrookit (as
the child was called), to mutch him with her
favourite's Betty. The mere possibility of such
an event taking j)lace filled her husband with
anxiety and fear, the expressions of which, with
the peevish and bitter accents that he used
in checking her loquacity on the subject, only
served to make her wonderment at his prejudices
the more and more tormentinjr.
CHAPTER XXXVIl
XN the meantime Charles and Isabella had en-
joyed a large share of domestic felicity, rendered
the more endearingly exquisite by their parental
anxiety ; for it had pleased Heaven to at once
bless and burden their narrow circumstances with
two beautiful cliildren, James and Mary. Their
income arising from the share which the old man
had assigned of the business had, during the first
two or three years subsequent to their marriage,
proved sufficient for the supj \v of their restricted
wants ; but their expenses began gradually to in-
crease, and about the end of the third year Charles
found that they had incurred several small debts
above their means of payment. These, in the
course of the fourth, rose to such a sum that,
being naturally of an apprehensive mind, he grew
uneasy at the amount, and came to the resolution
to borrow two hundred jjounds to discharge them.
This, he imagined, there could be no difficulty
in procuring ; for, believing tliat he was the heir
of entail to the main part of the estate which his
fatlier had so entirely redeemed, he conceived
that he might raise the money on his reversionary
228
THE ENTAIL
t^ ^^ ij
prospects. With this view, he called one morn-
ing on Mr Keelevin, to recjuest his agency in
the husiness.
'' I'm grieved, man," said the honest lawyer,
'' to hear that ye're in such straits ; but hadna ye
better speak to your father? It miglit bring on
you his displeasure if he heard ye were borrow-
ijig money to be paid at his death. It's a thing
nae Irien', far less a father, would like done by
himsel'."
'' In truth," replied Charles, " I am (juite
sensible of that ; but what can I do } For my
father, ever since mv brother Watty's marriaije,
has been so cold and reserved about his affairs to
me that everything like confidence seems as if it
were perished from between us."
Mr Keelevin, during this speech, raised his left
arm on the elbow from the table at which he was
sitting, and rested his chin on his hand. There
was nothing in the habitual calm of his counte-
nance which indicated what was passing in his
heart, but liis eyes once or twice glimmered with
a vivid expression of pity.
'' Mr Vs'alkinshaw," said he, "if you dinna like
to apply to your father yoursel', couldna some
friend mediate for you .'' Let me speak to him."
"It's friendly of you, Mr Keelevin, to offer to
do that ; but really, to speak plainly, I would far
rather borrow the money from a stranger than lay
myself open to any remarks. Indeed, for myself,
I don't much care ; but ye ken my father's narrow
230
THE ENTAIL
ideas about household chart^es, and maybe he
mi<rht take it on him to make remarks to my
wife that I wouldna Hke to liear o'."
'^ But, Mr Charles, you know that money canna
be borrowed without security."
" I am aware of that ; and it's on that account
I want your assistance. I should think that my
chance of surviving my father is worth some-
thing."
'' But the whole estate is strictly entaileci, Mr
Charles," replied the lawyer, with compassionate
regard.
'^ The income, however, is all clear, Mr
Keelevi-n."
^^ I dinna misdoubt that, Mr Charles • but the
entail — do you ken how it runs ^ "
" No ; but I imagine much in the usual manner."
"No, Mr Charles," said the honest writer,
raising his head, and letting his hand fall on
the table, with a mournful emphasis. "No, Mr
Charles, it doesna run in the usual manner ;
and I hope ye'll no put ony reliance on't. Ii
wasna right o' your father to let you live in
ignorance so long. Maybe it has been this
to -look that has led you into the debts ye
want to pjiy."
The manner in which this was said affected the
unfortunate first-born more than the meaning ;
but he replied —
" No doubt, Mr Keelevin, I may have been less
scrupulous in my expenses than I would have
({
wl
THE ENTAIL
t2:]l
oney canna
been had I not counted on tlie chance of my
birth riglit."
" Mr Charles, I'm sorry for you ; but I wouldna
do a frien's part by you were I to keep you ony
langer in the dark. Your fatlier, Mr Charles, is
an honest man ; but there's a bee in liis l)onnet,
as we a' ken, anent his pedigree. I neechia tell
you how he has warslet to get back the inherit-
ance o' his forefathers ; but I am wae to say that,
in a pursuit so meritorious, he has committed ae
great fault. Really, Mr Charles, I havena hardly
the heart to tell you."
" What is it .'' " said Charles, with emotion and
apprehension.
^' He has made a deed," said Mr Keelevin,
"whereby he has cut you off frae the succession,
in order that Walter, your brother, might be in a
condition to make an exchange of the Plealands
for the twa mailings that were wantinij to make
up wi' the Grii)py property a restoration of the
auld estate of Kittlestonheugh ; and I doubt it's
o' a nature in consequence that, even were he
willing, canna be easily altered."
To this heart-withering conmiunication Charles
made no answer. He stood for several minutes
astonished, and then, giving Mr Keelevin a wild
look, shuddered, and quitted the office.
Instead of returning home, he rushed with
rnpid and unequal steps down the Callowgate,
and, turning to the left hand on reaching the end
of the street, never halted till he had gained the
232
THE ENTAIL
dark firs which overhang the cathedral and skirt
the' Molendinar Burn, which at the time was
swelled with rains, and pouring its troubled tor-
rent almost as violently as the tide of feelings
that struggled in his bosom. Unconscious of
what he did, and borne along by the whirlwind
of his own thoughts, he darted down the steep,
and for a moment hung on the rocks at the bottom
as if he meditated some frantic leap. Recoiling
and trembling with the recollections of his family,
he threw himself on the ground, and for some
time shut his eyes as if he wished to believe that
he was agitated only by a dream.
The scene and the day were in unison with the
tempest which shook his frame and shivered his
mind. The sky was darkly overcast. The clouds
were rolling in black and lowering masses, through
which an occasional gleam of sunshine flickered
for a moment on the towers and pinnacles of the
cathedral, and glimmered in its rapid transit on
the monuments and graves in the churchyard.
A gloomy shadow succeeded ; and then a white
and ghastly light hovered along the ruins of
the bishop's castle, and darted with a strong and
steady ray on a gibbet which stood on the rising
ground beyond. The gusty wind howled like a
death-dog among the firs, which waved their dark
boughs like hearse-plumes over him ; and the voice
of the raging waters encouraged his despair.
He felt as if he had been betrayed into a situa-
tion which compelled him to surrender all the
THE ENTAIL
233
lionoiirnble intents of liis life, .'ind thut he must
s})en(l the comfortless remnintler of his days in
.1 conflict with poverty, a })rey to all its tempta-
tions, expedients, and crimes. At one moment he
clenched liis ^rasp, and gnashed his teeth, and
smote his foreliead, abandoninji^ himself to the
wild and headlong energies and instincts of a
rage that was almost revenge. At another, the
image of Isabella, so gentle and so defenceless,
rose in a burst of tenderness and sorrow, and
subdued him with inexpressible grief. But the
thought of his children, in the heedless days of
their innocence, condemned to beggary by a fraud
against nature, again scattered these subsiding
feelings like the blast that brushes the waves of
the ocean into spindrift.
This vehemence of feeling could not last long
without producing some visible effect. When the
storm had in soms aegree spent itself, he left the
wild and solitary spot where he had given himself
so entirely up to his passion, and returned towards
his home ; but his limbs trembled, his knees fal-
tered, and a cold shivering vibrated through his
whole frame. An intense pain was kindled in
his foreheail ; every object reeled and shuddered
to him as he passed ; and, before he reached the
house, he was so unwell that he immediately re-
tired to bed. In the course of the afternoon he
became delirious, and a rapid and raging fever
terrified his ill-fated wife.
(<
CHAPTER XXXVIII
M
at fo
R KEELEVIN, M-hen Charles had left him,
some
ectinj
time with his cheek resting on liis
hand, reflecting on what liad passed ; and in the
afternoon he ordered liis horse and rode over to
Gri})py, where lie found the laird sitting sullenly
by himself in the easy-chair by the fireside, witli
a white niglitcap on his head and grey worsted
stockings drawn over his knees.
" I'm wae, Mr Walkinshaw/' said the honest
lawyer as he entered the room, " to see you in sic
an ailing condition. What's the matter wi' you,
and how lang hae ye been sae indisposed } "
Claud had not observed his entrance ; for, sup-
posing the noise in opening the door had been made
by tlie leddy in her manifold household cares, or by
some one of the servants, he never moved his head,
but kept his eyes ruminatingly fixed on a peeliiiii^
of soot that was ominously fluttering on one of
the ribs of the grate, betokening, according to
the most credible oracles of Scottish superstition,
the arrival of a stranger or the occurrence of some
remarkable event. But, on hearing the voice of
his legal friend, he turned briskly round.
234
THE ENTAIL
the lionest
"■' Sit ye doun, Mr Keelevin, sit ye doun fore-
nent^ me. What's broii^lit you here the day?
Man, this is sore weather for ane at vour time o'
life to come so far afield/' was the salutation with
which he received him.
^'Ay/' replied Mr Keelevin, "baith you and
me, Grippy, are beginnint^ to be the waur o' the
wear ; but I didna expeck to find you in sic a
condition as this. I hope it's no the gout or the
rheumatism."
Claud, who had the natural horror of death as
strong as most country gentlemen of a certain age,
if not of all ages, did not much relish either the
observation or the inquiries. He, however, said,
with affected indifference, —
'^ No ; be thankit, it's neither the t'ane nor
the t'ither, but just a waff- o' cauld that I got
twa nights ago — a bit towt ^ that's no worth the
talking o'."
'^ I'm extraordinar glad to hear't ; for, seeing
you in sic a frail and feckless state, I was fear't
that ye werena in a way to converse on any con-
cern o' business. No that I hae muckle to say ;
but ye ken a' sma' things are a great fasherie
to a weakly person, and I wouldna discompose
you, Mr Walkinshaw, unless you just felt yoursel'
in your right ordinar, for, at your time o' life,
ony disturbance "
" My time o' life ! " interrupted the old man
^ Forcnent. Over aj^ainst.
2 Waff. A passing v/ave. ^ Towt. Passing fit.
'^'.ip.
236
THE ENTAIL
tartly. "Surely I'm no sae aiilci that ye need to
be speaking o ' my time o' life ' ? But what's your
will, Mr Keelevin, wi' me ?"
Whether all this symjiathetic condolence on
the part of the lawyer was said in sincerity or
witli any ulterior view we need not pause to
discuss, for the abrupt question of the invalid
brought it at once to a conclusion.
" In truth, laird," replied Mr Keelevin, " I
cann;* viy that I hae onythinf^ o' a particular
tjn' •!lL^''-v to trouble you anent, for I came hither
XfWj?- ill ho way o' friendship than o' business, —
having had this morning a visit frae your son
Charles, a fine, weel-doing young man as can be."
" He's weel enough," said the old man gruffly ;
and the lawyer continued —
" 'Deed, Mr Walkinshaw, he's mair than weel
enough. He's by-common, and it was with great
concern I heard that you and him are no on
sic a footing of cordiality as I had thought ye
were."
" Has he been making a complaint o' me } "
said Claud, looking sharply, and with a grim and
knotted brow, as if he was, at the same time,
apprehensive and indignant.
" He has mair sense and discretion," replied
Mr Keelevin; "but he was speaking to me on
a piece of business, and I was surprised he didiia
rather confer wi' you ; till, in course of conver-
sation, it fell out, as it were unawares, that he
didna like to speak to you anent it ; the which
disli
lack
ever
like
((
t(
Mr
((
THE ENTAIL
2.S7
lir than weel
dislike, I jealouse, could only proceed o' some
lack o' confidence between you, niair than should
ever be between a father and a weel-behaved son
like Mr Charles."
''And what was't?" said Grippy dryly
" I doubt that his income is scant to his want,
Mr Walkinshaw."
" He's an extravagant fool, and ne'er had a
liand to thraw a key in a lock. When I began
the world I hadna "
(t
Surely," interrupted Mr Keelevin, "ye could
ne'er think the son o' a man in your circum-
stances should hain ^ and hamper as ye er
necessitated to do in your younger years. P it, —
no to mak a hearing or an argument concerning
the same, — Mr Charles re(juires a sma' sum to get
him free o' a wee bit difficulty, — for ye kt there
are some folk, Mr Walkinshaw, that a flea-bite
molests like the lash o' a whip."
The old man made no answer to this, but sat
for some time silent, drawing down his brows
and twirling his thumbs. Mr Keelevin waited
in patience till he should digest the reply he so
evidently meditated.
" I hae aye thought Charlie honest, at least,"
said Grippy ; " but I maun say that this fashes me,
for if he's in sic straits, there's no telling what
liberties he may be led to tak wi' my property in
the shop."
Mr Keelevin, who in the first part of this
^ To hain. To be penurious.
2.'J8
THE ENTAIL
reply nad bent ea«Terly forward, was so thunder-
struck by the eonchision that he threw himself
back in his chair with his arms extended ; but in
a moment recoverin*:^ from his consternation, hv
said, with fervour, —
" Mr Walkinsliaw, I mind weel the reproof ye
gave me when I remonstrated wi' you a,i:jainst the
injustice ye were doing the poor lad in the entail;
but there's no consideration on this earth will let
me alloo you to gang on in a course of error and
prejudice. Your son is an h(mest young man.
I wish I could say his father kent his worth, or
was worthy o' him — and I'll no see him wrang-
ously driven to the door without taking his part
and letting the world ken wha's to blame. I'll
no say ye hae defrauded him o' his birthright,
for the property was your ain ; but if ye drive
him forth the shop, and cast him wi' his sma'
family on the scrimp mercy of mankind, I would
be wanting to human nature in general if I didna
say it was most abominable, and that you yoursel',
wi' a* your trumpery o' Walkinshaws and Kittle-
stonheughs, ought to be scourged by the hands
o' the hangman. So do as ye like, Mr Walkin-
shaw : ride to the deevil at the full gallop for
aught I care ; but ye's no get out o' this world
without hearing the hue-and-cry that every Chris-
tian soul canna but raise after you."
(Jlaud was completely cowed both by the anger
and menace of the honest lawyer, but still more
by the iinbraidings of his own startled conscience;
thp: entail
^2-M)
■conscience ;
and he said, in a humiliated tone, th«it ahnost
j)rovoked contempt, —
^' Ye're oner hasty, Mr Keelevin. I (li(hia
mint ^ a word about driving him fortli the shop.
Did lie tell you how iniickle his defect was? "
"Twa miserable hundred jiounds," replied Mr
Keelevin, somewhat subsiding' into his wonted
equanimity.
"Twa hundred pound o' debt!" exclaimed
Claud.
" Ay," said Mr Keelevin ; " and I marvel it's
no mair, when I consider the stinting and the
sterile father o' him."
" If I had the siller, Mr Keelevin," replied
Claud, "to convince baith you and him that I'm
no the niggar ye tak me for, I would gie you't
wi' hearty gudewill ; but the advance I made
to get Cxeordie into his partnership has for the
])resent rookit me - o' a' I had at command."
"No possible!" exclaimed Mr Keelevin, sub-
dued from his indignation ; adding, "And heavens
preserve us, Mr Walkinshaw, an' onything were
happening on a sudden to carry you aff, ye hae
made nae provision for Charlie nor your dochter."
There was something in this observation which
made the old man shrink up into himself and
vibrate from head to heel. In the course of less
than a minute, however, he regained his self-
possession, and said —
"'Deed, your observe, Mr Keelevin, is very just,
1 Mint. Hint, ' Rookit inc. Cleaned me out.
240
I UK KNTAIL
and I oii'^lit to do sometliin^ to provide for "what
may come to \y.\ss. I maun try and ii;vt Watty to
concur wV nic in sonu' hit scttlcincnt tliat may
lighten the disaj)j)ointnK'nt to Charlie and Meji^,
should it })U>aso the Lord to tak me to Ilimsel'
without n reasonahle warnin«r. ('an sic a ])aj)er
be made out ? "
''Oh yes ! " replied the wortliy lawyer, delif^hted
with so successful an issue to liis voluntary mis-
sion ; ''ye hae tvva ways o' doin«i^ the business:
either by ^ettin^ Watty to a^ree to an aliment,
or by making a bond of provision to Charles and
Mrs Milrookit."
Claud said he would prefer the former mode,
observing, with respect to the Litter, that he
thoup!;ht it would be a cheating o' the law to
take tlie other course.
" As for cheating the law," said the lawyer,
"ye need gie yoursel' no uneasiness about it,
provided ye do honestly by your ain bairns and
the rest o' the community."
And it was in consequence agreed that, in the
course of a day or two, Claud should take Walter
to Glasgow to execute a deed, by which, in the
event of surviving his father, he would undertake
to pay a certain annuity for the behoof of Charles's
family and that of his sister, Mrs Milrookit.
In
CHAPTER XXXIX
J X furtherance of the arranfi^ement a^eed upon,
as we have described in the foreg()in<]f chapter,
as soon as Mr Keelevin had retired Chiud sum-
moned Walter into the })arlour. It happened
that the leddy, during the period of the lawyer's
visit, had been so engaged in another j)art of the
house that she was not aware of the conference
till, by chance, she saw him riding down tlie
avenue. We need not, therefore, say that she
experienced some degree of alarm at the idea
of a lawyer having been with her husband un-
known to her, and particularly when, so im-
mediately after his departure, her darling was
requested to attend his father.
The mother and son entered the room together.
Walter came from the nursery, where he had been
dandling his child, and his appea-rance was not of
the most prepossessing kind. From the death of
his wife, in whose time, under her dictation, he
was brushed up into something of a gentlemanly
exterior, he had become gradually more and more
slovenly. He only shaved on Saturday night,
and buttoned his breeches' knees on Sunday
VOL. I. 241 Q
THE ENTAIL
morninc:. Nor was the dress of Leddy Orippy
at all out of keepiniT with that of her hopeful
favourite. Her time-out-of-mind red quilted silk
petticoat was broken into many lioles ; her thrice-
dyed double tabinet ^o^\n, of bottle ^reen, with
larp^e ruffle cuff's, was in need of another dip, for
in her various culinary inspections it had received
many stains ; and the superstructure of lawn
and catgut, ornamented with ribands, dyed blar
in ink, surmounting; her ill-toileted toupee, had
every appearance of havins^ been smoked into
yellow beyond all j)ower of blanching in the
bleacher's art.
''And so, ji^udeman," said she on enterin<T th«^
room, "ye hae had that auld sneck-druNver,^
Keelevin, wi' you ? 1 won'er what you and hiiu
can hae to say in sic a clandestine manner th.it
the door maun be aye steekit " when ye're the-
gither at your confabbles. Surely there's nac
honestv that a man can hae whilk his wife
oughtna to come in for a share of."
'' Sit down, Girzy Hypel, and baud thy tongue,"
was tlie peevish command which this speecii
provoked.
'* What for will I baud my tongue ? A fool
posture that would be, and no very commodious
at this time, for ye see my fingers are coomy." ^
''Woman, t'ou's past bearing!" exclaimed her
disconcerted husband.
bod;
'I'
left
said
^ Auld sneck-draiccr. Experienced, artful follow.
Steekit. Closed.
3 Co.nny. Begrimed.
THE ENTAIL
243
eddy (irippy
her hopeful
1 quilted silk
i ; her thriee-
e green, with
Dther dip, for
had reeeived
^ure of huvn
ds, dyed blue
I toupee, had
smoked into
cliing in the
entering the
meek-drawer,^
vou and him
I manner tliat
len ye're the-
there's nac
lilk his wile
|l thy tongue,"
this speech
true ? i\- fool
commodious
fe coomy." ^
exclaimed her
kful follow.
BG[^riTnod.
" An' it's nae shame to me, gudcman, for every-
body kens I'm a grannie."
The laird smote his right tliigli and shook his
left hand with vexation ; presently, however, lie
said —
'' Weel, weel ; but sit ye down ; and, Watty, tak
t'ou a chair beside her, for I want to consult you
anent a paper that I'm mindit to hae drawn out
for a satisfaction to you a', for nana can tell when
their time may come."
'*^Ye ne'er made a mair sensible observe, gude-
nian, in a' your days," replied the leddy, sitting
down; ^*^and it's vera right to make your will and
testament ; for ye ken what a stramash happened
in the Glengowlmahallaghan family by reason o'
the laird holograj)hing his codicil, whilk, to be
sure, was a dreadfu' omission, as my cousin, his
wife, fand in her widowhood ; for a' the mov-
ables thereby gaed wi' the heritage to his aidd
sou by the first wife — even the vera silver })ourie
that I gied her mysel' wi' my own hands, in a gifi;
at her marriage — a' gaed to the heir."
'^T'ou kens," said Claud, interru})ting her
oration, '' that I hae })rovided thee wi' the life-
rent o' a house o' fifteen j)ounds a year, furniture,
juid a jointure of a hundred and twenty over and
aboon the outcoming o' thy father's gathering.
So t'ou canna expeck, Girzy, that I would wrang
our bairns wi' ony mair overlay on thy account."
"Ye're grown richer, gudeman, than when we
came thegither," replied the leddy; *' and ne'er
244
THE ENTAIL
a man made siller without his wife's leave. So it
would be a most hard thing, after a' my toilin<r
and moiling, to make me nae better o't than the
stricts o' the law in my marriage articles and my
father's will, whilk was a gratus almous that made
me nane behauden to you. No, an' ye mean to
do justice, gudeman, I'll get my thirds o' the
conquest ye hae gotten sin' the time o' our
marriage — and I'll be content wi' nae less."
"Well, weel, Girzy, we'll no cast out about a
settlement for thee."
" It would be a fearful thing to hear tell o' an'
we did," replied the leddy ; " living as we hae
lived, a comfort to ane anither for thirty years,
and bringing up sic a braw family wi' so nmckle
credit. No, gudeman, I hae mair confidence in
you than to misdoot your love and kindness, noo
that ye're drawing so near your latter end as to
be seriously thinking o' making a will. But, for
a' that, I would like to ken what I'm to hae."
'^Very right, Girzy, very right," said Claud;
" but, before we can come to a clear understand-
ing, me and Watty maun conform in a bit paper
by oursel's, just that there may be nae debate
hereafter about his right to the excambio Me
made for the Plealands."
" I'll no })ut hand to ony drumhead paper
again," said Watty, "for fear it wrang my wee
Betty Bodle."
Although this was said in a vacant, heedless
manner, yet it disturbed the mind of his father
Iccave. So it
i' my toilinj;
o't than the
icles and my
us that made
' ye mean to
hirds o' the
time o' our
e less."
out about a
ear tell o* an'
ft as we hae
thirty years,
wi' so nmckle
confidence in
[kindness, noo
er end as to
A^ill. But, for
n to hae."
said Claud;
,r understantl-
11 a bit paper
c nae debate
excambio nvc
THE ENTAIL
245
3ant, heedless
of his father
exceedingly ; for tlie strange obstinacy with which
the natural had persisted in liis refusal to attend
the funeral of his wife had shown that there was
something deeper and more intractable in his
character than any one had previously imagined.
But opposition had only the effect of making
(laud more pertinacious, while it induced him
to change his mode of operation. Perceiving, or
at least being afraid, that he might again call his
obduracy into action, he accordingly shifted his
ground, and, instead of his wonted method of
treating Walter with commands and menaces, lie
dexterously availed himself of the leddy's auxiliary
assistance.
" Far be it, Watty, frae me, thy father," said
he, " to think or wish wrang to thee or thine ;
but t'ou kens that in family settlements, where
there's a patch't property like ours, W'e maun
hae conjunck proceedings. Noo, as I'm fain to
do something satisfactory to thy mother, t'ou'U
surely never objeck to join me in the needfu'
instruments to gie effeck to my intentions."
" I'll do eve.'ything to serve my mother," re-
plied Walter, 'Mjut I'll no sign ouy paj)ers."
"Surely. Watty Walkinshaw," exclaimed the
'tition of liis re-
iddy
•P
;pe
n
mhead paper ■ fusal, "ye wouklna see me in want, and drive
rang my wee I to a needcessity to gang frae door to door, wi' a
meal-pock round my neck and an oaken rungi
in my hand ?
1 Runa. Stick.
24()
THE ENTAIL
" I would rather ^ie you I'ly tw<i dollars and
the auld Frencli lialf-a-crown that I ^c»t. Ian,';s5'iiej
on my birthday, frae grannie/' said ^\'i?;ty.
*' Then what for will ye no 1 jt your lath'^L' make
a ri«rhtfu' settlement?" cried his mother.
*' I'm sure I dinna hinder him. He niay mak
fifty settlements for me : I'll ne'er fin' fau t wi'
If 9
mn.
^'Then/' said the leddy, "ye canna object to
liis reasonable request."
^' I objeck to no reasonable request; I only say,
mother, that I'll no sign ony ])a})er whatsomever,
wheresomever, howsomever, nor ever and ever —
so ye needna try to flcech^ me."
''Ye're an outstrapolous neer-do-weel," cried
the leddy in a rage, knocking her nieves'^ smartly
together, " to speak to thy mother in that way ;
t'ou sail sign the paper, an' te life be in thy
body."
"I'll no wrang my ain bairn for father nor
mother ; I'll gang to Jock Harrigais the fleshcr,
and pay him to hag aff my right hand, afore I
put pen to law-p •;;:.' again."
"This is a' I ;. for my love and affection!"
exclaimed the leddy, bursting into tears ; while
her husband, scarcely less agitated by the firm-
ness with which his purpose was resisted, sat in
a state of gloomy abstraction, seemingly uncon-
scious of the altercation. " But," added Mrs
Walkinshaw, " I'm no in thy reverence, t'ou uu-
^ Flccck. Pcr.siuide. ' Nievcs. Fists.
in that way ;
TI^.E ENTAIL
i>47
natdral Absalom, to rebel sac a<rainst thy part^nts.
I hae niayhe a ho
r?^'^r,
^ and 1 ken, w
Jian
I d
le.
wha sail get thc^ gouden guts o't. \N'ilt t'ou sign
the paper ? '
"I'll burn afl'niy right hand in the lowing fire,
that I may ne'er be able to write the serape o' a
pen;" and with these emphatie words, said in a
soft and simple manner, he rose from his seat, and
was aetually proeeeding towards the fireplace,
when a loud knocking at the door disturbed, and
put an end to, the conversation. It wa;s a mes-
senger sent from old Lady Plealands to inform
her daughter of Charles's malady, and to say that
the doctor, who had been called in, was greatly
alamied at the i.tpid })r()gress of the disease.
1 Hoygcr. Hero, a "stocking-foot" ; lit., a stock. ug with-
out tho foot.
mmm
CHAPTER XL
JLjEDDY GRIPPY was one of those worthy
gentlewomen who, without the slightest interest
or feehng in any object or purpose with wliich
they happen to be engaged, conceive themselves
bound to perform all the customary indications
of the profoundest sympathy and the deepest
sensibility. Accordingly, no sooner did she re-
ceive the message of her son's melancholy con-
dition than she proceeded Ibrthwith to prepare
herself for going immediately to Glasgow.
"1 canna expeck, gudeman," said she, "that,
wi' your host,i ye'll come wi' me to Glasgow on
this very sorrowful occasion ; therefore I hope
ye'll tak gude care o' yoursel', and see that the
scrvan'-lasses get your water-gruel, wi' a tamarind
in't, at night, if it should please Charlie's Maker,
by reason o' the dangerous distemper, no to alloo
me to come hame."
The intelligence had so troubled the old man,
bo\/ever, that he scarcely heard her observation.
The indisposition of his son seemed somehow to
be c^mnected with the visit of Mr Keelevin, —
^ Host. Cough.
248
THE ENTAIL
249
lose worthy
test interest
with which
2 themselves
y indications
the deepest
did she rc-
ancholy con-
i to prepare
asgow.
she, "that,
Glasgow on
iV)re I hopi-
see that the
' a tamarind
lie's Maker,
no to alloo
he old man,
lobservation.
somehow to
Keelevin, —
which it certainly was — ; and while his wife busily
prepared for her visit, liis mind wandered in
devious conjectures, without being able to reach
anything calculated either to satisfy his wonder
or to appease his apprehension.
" It's very right, Girzy, my dear," said he, " that
ye sou'd gang in and see Charlie, poor lad ; I'm
extraordinar sorry to hear o' this income,^ and
ye'll be sure to tak care he wants for nothing.
Hear'st thou : look into the auld pocket-book
in the scrutoire neuk ; t'ou'll aiblins fin' there a
five-pound note — tak it wi' thee — there's no sic
an extravagant connnodity in ony man's house as
a delirious fever."
"Ah!" replied the leddy, looking at her
d<arling and ungrateful Walter, " ye see what it
is to hae a kind father ; but ill ye deserve ony
attention frae either father or mother, for your
condumacity is ordained to break our hearts."
"Mother," said Walter, "dinna be in sic a
hun*}' — I hae something that'll do Charlie good."
In saying this he rose and went to tlie nursery,
whence he immediately returned with a j)ill-box.
" There, mother ! tak that wi' you. It's a box
o' excellent medicaments, either for the cougli,
or for the cauld, or for shortness o' breath,—
to sae naething among frien's o' a constipation.
Gie Charlie twa at bedtime and ane in the
morning, and ye'll see an effeck sufficient to cure
every impediment in man or woman."
1 Im',omr. Used hero as hodily infirmity.
250
THE ENTAIL
Lcddy Grippy, with tlie utmost contempt for
the pills, snatched the box out of his hand and
flun«r it behind the fire. She then seated herself
in the chair opposite her husband, and, while she
at the same time tied her cloak and placed on
her bonnet, she said —
"I'll alloo at last, ^udeman, that I hae been
a' my days in an error; for I couldna hae believed
that Watt}' was sic an idiot o' a naturalist, had
I no lived to see this day. But the will o' Pro-
vidence be done on earth as it is in heaven ;
and let us pray that he may be forgiven the sair
heart he has gien to us, his .'igcd parents, as we
forgive our debtors. I won'er, howsever, that
my mother didna send word o' the nature o' this
delirietness o' Charlie, for, to be surely, it's a
very sudden c()me-to-})ass ; but the things o' time
are no to be lippent to,i and life fleeth away like
a weaver's shuttle, and no man knoweth where-
soever it findeth rest for the sole of its foot. But
before I go : ye'll no negleck to tell Jenny in
the morning to tak the three spyniels o' yarn
to Josey Thrums, the weaver, for my Dornick
towelling ; and ye'll be sure to put Tam Modi-
wart in mind that's he no to harl - the plough
out ouer the green brae till I get my big washing
out o' hand. As for t'ee, Watty, stay till this
calamity's past, and I'll let ye ken what it is
to treat baith father and motlier wi* sae little
reverence. Really, gudeman, I begin to hae a
^ Lippent to. Depended upon. ^ jjarl. Trail.
THE ENTAIL
251
•ontcnipt for
lis liand and
L'atcd herself
id, wliile she
id plaeed on
t I hae been
hae behaved
Liturahst, had
will o' Pro-
in heaven ;
iven the sair
arents, as we
'wsevcr, that
nature o' this
surelv, it's a
lings o' time
th away like
weth where-
ts foot. But
3II Jenny in
liels o' yarn
my Dornick
Tam Modi-
tlie plou;2;li
)i<^ washin<^
ay till this
what it is
i' sae Uttle
n to hae a
'/urZ. Trail.
notion that lie's, as auld Elspeth Freet, the mid-
wife, anee said to nie, a ta'enawa ; and I would
be nane surprised that whoever lives to see him
dee will find in the bed a benweed or a windle-
strae, instead o' a Christian corpse. But suffieient
for the day is the evil thereof; and this sore
news o' our auld son should mak us walk humbly,
and no repine at the mercies set before us in this
our sinfu' estate."
The worthy leddy might Iiave continued her
edifying exhortation for some time longer; but
her husband grew impatient, and harshly inter-
rupted her eloquence by reminding her that the
day was far advanced, and that the road to
Glasgow was both deep and dreigli.^
" I would counsel you, Girzy riy})el," said he,
" no to put off your time wi' sic havers here, but
gang intil the town, and send us out word in
the morning, if ye diiiiia come hame, how Charlie
may happen to be ; for I canna but say that thir
news are no just what I could hae wished to
hear at this time. As for what we hae been
saying to Watty, we baith ken he's a kind-hearted
chiel, and he'll think better or the morn o' what
we were speaking about — willna ye, Watty } "
" I'll think as inuckle's ye like," said the faithful
natural, '' but I'll sign nae papers : that's a fact
afore divines. What for do ye aye fash me wi'
your deeds and your instruments ? I'm sure
baith Charlie and Geordie could write better
^ Dnujh. Wearisumo.
252
THE ENTATT.
than ino, sind ye ne'er troul)l((l tliem. But I
jealouse the cause — an' my «rran(Ujiither hadna left
me his lawful heir to the Pl< ilauds, I miirht
hae sat at the ehuniley-lu^ wiustlin;:^ on my
thumh. We a' hae frien's anew when we hae
onythiui]^, and so I see in a' this flytin<jj and
fleechinj^;^ l)ut ve'U flvte and ve'll Heeeh till
puddoeks «j^row ehuekystanes hefore ye'll get me
to wran^ my ain hairn, my bonny wee Betty
Bodle, that hasna ane that cares for her but only
my leafu* lane." ^
The leddy would have renewed her remonstra-
tory animadversions on his obstinacy, but the laird
again reminded her of the length of the journey in
such an evening before her ; and, after a few half
advices and half reproaches, she left the house.
Indisposed as Claud had j)reviously felt himself,
or seemed to be, she had not been long away
when he rose from his easy-chair and walked
slowly across the room ^ith his hands behind,
swinging his body heavily as he paced the floor.
Walter, who still remained on his seat, appeared
for some time not to notice his father's gestures ;
but the old man unconsciously began to quicken
his steps, and at last walked so rapidly that his
son's attention was roused.
'^ Father," said he, "hae ye been takintj
epicacco .^ — for that was just the way that I was
tell't to gang when I was last noweel."
1 Flceching. Flattering.
2 Lcafu lane. Lonoly and all alone.
TIIK ENTAIL
'iJ'J
m. Riit I
liadna left
s, I miij^ht
iijUj oil iTiy
en we hae
1ytiii«r and
rieeeh till
i\\ get mt
wee Betty
ir but only
remonstra-
it the laird
journey in
a few half
e house.
It himself,
lonij awav
id walked
Is behind,
the floor.
appeared
gestures ;
:o quicken
y that his
n taking
hat I was
"No, no!" exelainu'd the wretched old man,
'M)ut 1 hae drank the bitterest dose o' life.
There's nae vomit for a sick soul — nae jiurge
for a foul conscience."
These were, however, confessions that escaj)e(l
from him unawares, like the sjiarks that are
elicited in violent percussions; for he soon drew
himself firmly and bravely up, as if he pn'|)ared
himself to defy the worst that was in store for
him. But this resolution also as quickly passed
away, and he returned to his easy-chair and sat
down, as if he had been abandoned of all hope,
and had resigned himself into a dull and sleepy
lethargy.
For about half-an-hour lie c(mtinued in this
slumbering and inaccessible state, at the end of
which he called one of the servants, and bade
him be ready to go to Glasgow by break of day
and bring Mr Keelevin before breakfast. "Some-
thing maun be done," said he as the servant,
accompanied by Walter, left the room ; " the
curse of God has fallen upon me ; my hands are
tied ; a dreadfu' chain is fastened about me ; I
hae cheated mysel', and there's nae bail, — no, not
in the heavens, — for the man that has wilfully
raffled away his own soul in the guilty game o'
pride."
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TEST TARGET (MT-3)
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Corporation
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WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580
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CHAPTER XLI
Meanwhile the disease which had laid
Charles prostrate was proceeding with a terrific
and devastating fury. Before his mother reached
the house he had lost all sense of himself and
situation, and his mind was a chaos of the wildest
and most extravagant fantasies. Occasionally,
however, he would sink into a momentary calm,
when a feeble gleam of reason would appear
amidst his ravings, like the transient glimmer of
a passing light from the shore on the black waves
of the stormy ocean when the cry has arisen at
midnight of a vessel on the rocks and her crew
in jeopardy. But these breathing pauses of the
fever's rage were, perhaps, more dreadful than
its violence ; for they were accompanied with a
r'^turn of the moral anguish which had brought
Oil his malady, and as often as his eye caught the
meek but desponding countenance of Isabella as
she sat by his bedside, he would make a convul-
sive effort to raise himself, and instantly relapse
into the tempestuous raptures of the delirium. In
this state he passed the night.
Towards morning, symptoms of a change began
254
THE ENTAIL
/^ %f \I
to show themselves, the turbulence of his thoui^hts
subsided, his breathing became more regular, and
both Isabella and his mother were persuaded
that he was considerably better. Under this im-
pression, the old lady at daybreak despatched a
messenger to inform his father of the favourable
change, who, in the interval, had passed a night
in a state not more calm, and far less enviable,
than that of his distracted son.
Whatever was the motive which induced Claud,
on the preceding evening, to determine on s( nd-
ing for Mr Keelevin, it would appear that it did
not long maintain its influence ; for, before going
to bed, he countermanded the order. Indeed,
his whole behaviour that night indicated a
strange and unwonted deij^ree of indecision. It
was evident that he meditated some intention
which he hesitated to carry into effect, and the
conflict banished sleep from his pillow. When
the messenger from Glasgow arrived he was
already dressed, and, as none of the servants
were stirring, he opened the door himself. The
news certainly gave him pleasure. But they also
produced some change in the secret workings of
his mind, of no auspicious augury to the fulfil-
ment of the parental intenticm which he had
probably formed, but as probably was reluctant
to realise, as it could not be carried into effect
without material detriment to that one single
dominant object to which his whole life, efforts,
and errors had been devoted. At least, from
25G
THE ENTAIL
the moment he received the agreeable intelli-
gence that Charles was better his agitation
ceased, and he resumed his seat in the elbow-
chair by the parlour fireside as composedly as if
nothing had occurred, in any degree, to trouble
the apparently even tenor of his daily unsocial
and solitary reflections. In this situation he fell
into a sleep, from which he was roused by
another messenger with still more interesting
intelligence to him than even the convalescence
(as it was supposed) of his favourite son.
Mrs George Walkinshaw had, for some time,
given a large promise in her appearance of add-
ing to the heirs o^ Kittlestonheugh ; but, by her
residence in Glasgow, and by her holding little
intercourse with the Grippy family (owing to her
own situation, and to her dislike of the members,
especially after Walter had been brought back
with his child), the laird and leddy were less ac-
quainted with her maternal progress than might
have been expected, particularly when the anxiety
of the old man with respect to male issue is con-
sidered. Such things, however, are of common
occurrence in all families ; and so it happened
that during the course of this interesting night
Mrs George had been delivered, and that her
husband, as in duty bound, in the morning de-
spatched a maid-servant to inform his father and
mother of the joyous event.
The messenger, Jenny Purdie, had several years
before been in the servitude of the laird's house.
THE ENTAIL
257
from which she translated herself to that of George.
Being something forward, at the same time sly and
adroit, and having heard how much her old master
had been disappointed that Walter's daughter was
not a son, she made no scruple of employing a little
address in communicating her news. Accordingly,
when the laird, disturbed in his slumber by her
entrance, roused himself, and turned round to see
who it was that had come into the room, she pre-
sented herself as she liad walked from the royal
city, — muffled up in a dingy red cloak, her dark blue
and white striped petticoat sorely scanty, and her
glowing purple legs and well-spread shoeless feet
bearing liberal proof of the speed with which she
had spattered and splashed along the road.
" I wish you muckle joy, laird ! I hae brought
you blithesmeat," was her salutation.
" What is't, Jenny } " said the old man.
^'I'll let you guess that, unless ye promise to
gie me half-a-crown," was her reply.
" T'ou canna t' '-^k I would ware ^ less on sic
errand as t'ou's come on. Is't a laddie } "
" It's far better, laird ! " said Jenny trium-
phantly.
"Is't twins?" exclaimed the laird, sympathis-
ing with her exultation.
"A half-crown, a half-crown, laird," was, how-
ever, all the satisfaction he received. " Down wi'
the dust."
"An t'ou's sae on thy peremptors, I fancy I
1 Ware. To expend.
VOL. I. R
258
THE ENTAIL
maun comply. There, take it, and welcome/'
said he, pulling the money from under the flap
of his waistcoat-pocket ; while Jenny, stretching
her arm as she hoisted it from under the cloak,
eagerly bent forward and took the silver out of
his hand, instantaneously affecting the greatest
gravity of face.
" Laird," said she, " ye maunna be angry wi'
me ; but I didna like just to dumbfoun'er you
a' at ance wi' the news. My mistress, it's very
true, has been brought to bed, but it's no as ye
expeckit."
^^Then it's but a dochter.^" replied the laird
discontentedly.
"No, sir, it's no a dochter. It's twa dochters,
sir ! " exclaimed Jenny, scarcely able to repress
her risibility, while she endeavoured to assume
an accent of condolence.
Claud sank back in his chair, and drooping his
head, gave a deep sigh.
"But," rejoined the adroit Jenny, "it's a good
earnest of a braw family ; so keep up your heart,
laird, aiblins the neist birds may be a' cocks.
There ne'er was a goose without a gander."
" Gae but the house, and fashna me wi' thy
clishmaclavers. I say, gae but the house," cried
the laird, in a tone so deep and strong that
Jenny's disposition to gossip was most effectually
daunted, and she immediately retired.
For some time after she had left the room
Qaud continued sitting in the same posture with
THE ENTAIL
259
itd the laird
which he had uttered the command, leaning
slightly forward, and holding the arms of the
easy-chair graspingly by both his hands, as if in
the act of raising himself Gradually, ho^vever, he
relaxed his hold, and subsided slowly and heavily
into the position in which he usually fell asleep.
Shutting his eyes, he remained in that state for
a considerable time, exhibiting no external in-
dication of the rush of mortified feelings v/hich,
like a subterranean stream of some acrid mineral,
struggled through all the abysses of his bosom.
This last stroke — the birth of twin daughters —
seemed to perfect the signs and omens of that dis-
pleasure with which he had for some time thought
the disinheritance of his first-born was regarded ;
and there was undoubtedly something sublime in
the fortitude with which he endured the gnaw-
ings of remorse. It may be impossible to consider
the course of his sordid ambition without indig-
nation ; but the strength of character which en-
abled him to contend at once with his paternal
partiality and stand firm in his injustice before
what he awfully deemed the frowns and the
menaces of Heaven foi^ms a spectacle of moral
bravery that cannot be contemplated without
emotions of wonder mingled with dread.
CHAPTER XLIJ
JL HE fall'icious symptoms in the progress of
Charles's malady which had deceived his wife
and mother assumed on the third day the most
alarming appearance. Mr Keelevin, who, from
the interview, had taken an uncommon interest
in his situation, did not, however, hear of his
illness till the doctors, from the firmest persuasion
that he could not survive, had expressed some
doubts of his recovery ; but from that time the
inquiries of the honest lawyer were frequent,
and, notwithstanding what had passed on the
former occasion, he resolved to make another
attempt on the sympathies of the father. For this
purpose, on the morning of the fifth day, which
happened to be Sunday, he called at Charles's
house to inquire how he was, previous to the
visit which he intended to pay to Grippy ; but
the servant who attended the door was in tears,
and told him that her master was in the last
struggles of life.
Any other general acquaintance, on receiving
such intelligence, however deeply he might have
felt affected, would have retired ; but the ardent
260
r
progress of
ved his wife
day the most
1, ^\\o, from
imon interest
, hear of his
est persuasion
pressed some
[hat time the
ere frequent,
issed on the
nake another
ther. For this
1 day, which
at Charles's
evious to the
Grippy; but
was in tears,
in the last
on receiving
e might have
lit the ardent
THE ENTAIL
i36l
mind and simplicity of Mr Keelevin prompted
him to act differently, and, without replying to
the girl, ho softly slipped his feet from his shoes,
and stepping gently to the sick-chamber, entered
it unobserved, -so much were those around the
deathbed occupied with the scene before them.
Isabella was sitting at the bed-head, holding
her dying husband by both the hands, and bend-
ing over him almost as insensible as himself.
His mother was sitting near the foot of tlie bed,
with a phial in one hand, and a towel, resting on
her knee, in the other, looking ove>* her left
shoulder towards her son, with an eager coun-
tenance, in which curiosity, and alarm, and pity
were, in rapid succession, strangely and vacantly
expressed. At; the foot of the bed, the curtains
of which were drawn aside, the two little chil-
dren stood wondering in solemn innocence at the
mournful mystery which nature was performing
with their father. Mr Keelevin was moved by
their helpless astonishment even more than by
the sight of the last and lessening heavings and
pantings of his dying friend ; and, melted to
tears, he withdrew, and wept behind the door.
In the course of three or four minutes a rustle
in the chc^mber roused him ; and on looking
round, he saw Isabella standing on the floor, and
her mother-in-law, who had dropped the phial,
sitting, with a look of horror, holding up her
hand, which quivered with agitation. He stepped
forward, and giving a momentary glance at the
Of Jo
THE ENTAIL
i.l
bed, sjiw tliat all was over ; but, before he could
turn round to address himself to the ladies, the
children uttered a shrill piercin<]j shriek of terror,
and running to their mother, hid their little faces in
her dress and clasped her fearfully in their arms.
For some minutes he was overcome. The
young, the beautiful, the defenceless widow was
the first that recovered her self-possession A
flood of tears relieved her heart ; and bending
down and folding her arms round her orphans,
she knelt, and said, with an upward look of
supplication, "God will protect you."
Mr Keelevin was still unable to trust himself
to say a word ; but he approached, and, gently
assisting her to rise, led her with the children
into the parlour, where old Lady Plealands was
sitting alone, with a large psalm-book in her
hand. Her spectacles lying on a table in the
middle of tlie room showed that she had been
unable to read.
He then returned to bring Leddy Grippy also
away from the body ; but met her in the passage.
We dare not venture to repeat what she said to
him, for she was a mother ; but the result was
a request from her that he would undertake to
communicate the intelligence to her husband,
and to beg him either to cc^rae to her in the
course of the day or to send her some money :
"For," said she, "this is a bare house, Mr
Keelevin ; and Heaven only knows what's to
become o' the wee orphans."
ire he could
' ladies, the
vk of terror,
little faces in
their arms.
come. The
5 widow was
(ssession A
and bending
her orphans,
ard look of
>»
trust himself
and, gently
the children
*lealands was
book in her
table in the
be had been
f Grippy also
the passage,
she said to
le result was
undertake to
ler husband,
o her in the
ome money :
house, Mr
7S what's to
TlIK ENTAIL
'26ii
The kim^-hearted lawyer, however, needed no
argument to spur him on to do all that ne could
in such a time, and in such circumstances, to
lighten the distress and misery of a family whose
necessities he so well knew. On (piitting the
house he proceeded immediately towards Cirippy,
ruminating on the scene he had witnessed, and
on the sorrows which he foresaw the desolate
widow and her children were destined to suffer.
The weather for some days before liad been
unsettled and boisterous ; but that morning it
was uncommonly fine for the advanced state of
the season. Everything was calm and in repose,
as if Nature herself had hallowed the Sabbath.
Mr Keelevin walked thoughtfully along, the grief
of his reflections being gradually subdued by the
benevolence of his intentions ; but he was a man
wcT stricken in years, and the agitation he had
undergone made the way appear to him so long
that he felt himself tired, insomuch that, when
he came to the bottom of the lane which led to
Kilmarkeckle, he sat down to rest himself on the
old dyke where Claud himself had sat, on his
return from the town, after executing the fatal
entail. Absorbed in the reflections to which the
event of the morning naturally gave rise, he
leaned for some time pensively forward, support-
ing his head on his hand, insensible to every
object around, till he was roused by the cooing
of a pigeon in the field behind him. The softness
and the affectionate sound of its tones comforted
264
THE ENTAIL
his spirits as he thought of his client's harsli
temper, .'lud he raised liis eyes and looked on the
beautiful tranquillity of the landsca{)e before him
with a sensation of freshness and pleasure that
restored him to confidence in the charity of his
intentions. The waters of the river were glanc-
ing to the cloudless morning sun ; a clear bright
cheerfulness dwelt on the foreheadii of the distant
hills ; the verdure of the nearer fields seemed to
be gladdened by the presence of spring, and a
band of little schoolboys, in their Sunday clothes,
playing with a large dog on the opposite bank of
the river, was in unison with the general bene-
Tolence which smiled and breathed around, but
was liveliest in his own heart.
CHAPTER XLIII
A. HE benevolent lawyer found the old man in
his accustomed seat by the fireside. Walter was
in the room with him, dressed for church and
dandling his child. At first Mr Keelevin felt a
little embarrassment, not being exactly aware in
what manner the news he had to communicate
might be received; but seeing how Walter was
engaged, he took occasion to commend his
parental affection.
"That's acting like a father, Mr Walter," said he;
" for a kind parent innocently pleasuring his bairn
is a sight that the very angels are proud to look on.
Mak muckle o' the poor wee thing, for nobody can
tell how long she may be spared to you. I dare
say, Mr Walkinshaw," he added, addressing him-
self to Claud, "ye hae mony a time been happy
in the same manner wi' your own children ? "
"I had something else to tak up my mind," re-
plied the old man gruffly, not altogether pleased
to see the lawyer, and apprehensive of some new
animadversions.
" Nae doubt, yours has been an eydent ^ and
^ Eydefiit. Industrious.
265
266
THE ENTAIL
industrious life," said Mr Keelevin, " and hitherto
it hasna been without a large share o' comfort.
Ye canna, however, expeck a greater constancy
in fortune and the favour o' Providence than falls
to the common lot of man ; and ye maun lay your
account to meet wi' troubles and sorrows as weel
as your neighbours."
This was intended by the speaker as a prelude
to the tidings he had brought, and was said in a
mild and sympathetic manner ; but the heart of
Claud, galled and skinless by the corrosion of his
own thoughts, felt it as a reproach, and he inter-
rupted him shar})ly —
"What ken ye, Mr Keelevin, either o' my
truxnps or my troubles ? " And he subjoined, in his
austerest and most emphatic manner, " The inner
man alone knows whether, in the gifts o' fortune,
he has gotten gude or but only gowd. Mr Kee-
levin, I hae lived long eneugh to mak an observe
on prosperity, — the whilk is that the doited and
heedless world is very ready to mistak the smother-
ing growth of the ivy on a doddered ^ stem for the
green boughs o' a sound and flourishing tree."
To which Walter added singingly, as he swung
his child by the arms, —
" Near planted by a river,
Which in his season yields his fruit,
And his leaf fadeth never."
((
But no to enter upon any controversy, Mr
^ Doddered. Decaying.
and hitherto
; o' comfort,
er constancy
ice than falls
laun lay your
TOWS as weel
as a prelude
was said in a
the heart of
rrosion of his
md he inter-
gither o' my
bjoined, in his
r, " The inner
fts o' fortune,
;^d. Mr Kee-
an observe
le doited and
the smother-
stem for the
ing tree."
as he swung
THE ENTAIL
267
ruit,
itroversy, Mr
Walkinshaw/' said Mr Keelevin — "ye'll no hae
heard the day how your son Charles is ? "
"No/' replied Claud, with a peculiarly impres-
sive accent ; '' but, at the latest last night, the
gudewife sent word he w very ill."
" I'm greatly concerned about him," resumed
the lawyer, scarcely aware of the address with
wliich, in his simplicity, he was moving on to-
wards the fatal communication ; " I am greatly
concerned about him, but mair for his young
children — they'll be very helpless orphans, Mr
Walkinshaw."
" I ken that," was the stern answer, uttered
with such a dark and troubled look that it quite
daunted Mr Keelevin at the moment from pro-
ceeding.
" Ye ken that ! " cried Walter, pausing, and
setting down the child on the floor, and seat-
ing himself beside it. "How do ye ken that,
father ? "
The old man eyed him for a moment with a
fierce and strong aversion, and, turning to Mr
Keelevin, shook his head, but said nothing.
"What's done is done, and canna be helped,"
resumed the lawyer ; " but reparation may yet,
by some sma' cost and cooking, be made ; and
I hope Mr Walkinshaw, considering what has
happened, ye' 11 do your duty."
" I'll sign nae papers," interposed Walter ; " I'll
do nothing to wrang my wee Betty Bodle," — and
he fondly kissed the child.
268
THE ENTAIL
Mr Keelevin looked compassionately at the
natural, and then turning to his father, said —
" I hae been this morning to see Mr Charles."
" Weel, and how is he ? " exclaimed the father
eagerly.
The lawyer, for about the term of a minute,
made no reply ; but looked at him steadily in
the face, and then added solemnly, " He's no
more ! "
At first the news seemed to produce scarcely
any effect : the iron countenance of the old man
underwent no immediate change : he only re-
mained immovable in the position in which he
had received the shock ; but presently Mr Keele-
vin saw that he did not fetch Lis breath, and that
his lips began to contract asunder, and to expose
his yellow teeth with the grin almost of a skull.
" Heavens preserve us, Mr Walkinshaw ! "
cried Mr Keelevin, rising to his assistance ; but,
in the same moment, the old man uttered a
groan so deep and dreadful, so strange and super-
human, that Walter snatched up his child and
rushed in terror out of the room. After this
earthquake-struggle he in some degree recovered
himself, and the lawyer returned to his chair,
where he remained some time silent.
" I had a fear o't, but I wasna prepar't, Mr
Keelevin, for this," said the miserable father;
''and noo I'll kick against the pricks nae langer.
Wonderful God ! I bend my aged grey head at
Thy footstool. Oh, lay not Thy hand heavier upon
THE ENTAIL
269
iitely at the
er, said —
^r Charles."
ed the father
of a minute,
n steadily in
y, " He's no
duce scarcely
the old man
he only re-
in which he
tly Mr Keele-
eath, and that
and to expose
it of a skull.
V^alkinshaw ! "
sistance ; but,
lan uttered a
ige and super-
his child and
After this
ree recovered
to his chair,
prepar't, Mr
rable father;
ks nae langer.
grey head at
I heavier upon
me than I am able to bear ! Mr Keelevin, ye
ance said the entail could be broken if I were to
die insolvent : mak me sae in the name of the
God I have dared so long to fight against. An'
Charlie's dead — murdered by my devices ! Weel
do I mind, when he was a playing bairn, that I first
kent the blessing of what it is to hae something
to be kind to ; aften and aften did his glad and
bright young face thaw the frost that had bound
up my heart ; but aye something new o' the
world's pride and trash cam in between, and
harden't it mair and mair. But a's done noo,
Mr Keelevin — the fight's done and the battle
won, and the avenging God of righteousness and
judgment is victorious."
Mr Keelevin sat in silent astonishment at this
violence of sorrow. He had no previous con-
ception of that vast abyss of sensibility which lay
hidden and unknown within the impenetrable
granite of the old man's pride and avarice ; and
he was amazed and overawed when he beheld
it burst forth, as when the fountains of the great
deep were broken up and the deluge swept away
the earliest and the oldest iniquities of man.
The immediate effect, when he began to re-
cover from his wonder, was a sentiment of pro-
found reverence.
" Mr Walkinshaw," said he, ^^ I have long done
you great injustice;" — and he Wfis proceeding
to say something more as an apology, but Claud
interrupted iiim.
S70
THE ENTAIL
" You hae ne'er done me any manner of wrong,
Mr Keelevin ; but I hae sinned greatly and Ian*;*
against my ain nature, and it's time I sou'd repent.
In a few sorrowful days I maun follow the lamb
I hae sacrificed on the altars o' pride ; speed a'
ye dow to mak the little way I hae to gang to
the grave easy to one that travels wi' a broken
heart. I gie you nae further instructions — your
skill and honest conscience will tell you what is
needful to be done ; and wlien the paper's made
out, come to me. For the present leave me, and
in your way hame bid Dr Denholm come hither
in the afternoon."
" I think, Mr Walkinshaw," replied Mr Keele-
vin, fallin/^ into his professional manner on receiv-
ing these orders, " that it would be as weel for
me to come back the morn, when ye're more
composed, to get the particulars of what ye wish
done."
" Oh, man ! " exclaimed the hoary penitent, "ye
ken little o' me. Frae the very dawn o' life I
hae done nothing but big and build an' idolatrous
image ; and when it was finished, ye saw how I
laid my first-born on its burning and brazen
altar. But ye never saw what I saw : the face
of an angry God looking constantly from behind
a cloud that darkened a' the world like the
shadow of death to me ; and ye canna feel what
I feel now when His dreadful right hand has
smashed my idol into dust. I hae nae langer
part, interest, nor portion in the concerns of this
er of wrong,
tly and Ian;-
ou'd repent.
>w the lamb
ie ; speed a'
to gang to
71 a broken
ctions — your
you what is
laper's made
;ave me, and
come hither
d Mr Keele-
er on receiv-
; as weel for
ye're more
vhat ye wish
enitent, "ye
wn o* Hfe I
n' idolatrous
saw how I
and brazen
w : the face
Tom behind
d like the
na feel what
it hand has
nae langer
:ems of this
THE ENTAIL
271
life ; but only to sign ony paper that ye can
devise to restore their rights to the twa babies
that my idolatry has made fatherless."
" I hope, in mercy, Mr Walkinshaw, that ye'U
be comforted," said the worthy lawyer, deeply
affected by his vehemence.
" I hope so too ; but I seena whar at present
it's to come frae," replied Claud, bursting into
tears and weeping bitterly. " But," he added,
"I would fain, Mr Keelevin, be left to mysel'
— alack ! alack ! I hae been ouer lang left to
mysel'. Howsever, gang away the day, and
remember Dr Denholm as ye pass; — but I'll
ne'er hae peace o' mind till the paper's made
and signed ; so, as a Christian, I beg you to
make haste, for it will be a Samaritan's act of
charity."
Mr Keelevin perceived that it was of no use
at that time to offer any further consolation,
and accordingly he withdrew.
CHAPTER XLIV
JJURING the remainder of the day, alter Mr
Keelevin had left him, Claud continued to sit
alone, and took no heed of anything that
occurred around him. Dinner was placed on the
table at the usual hour ; but he did not join
Walter.
" I won'er, father," said the natural as he was
hewing at the joint, "that ye're no for ony dinner
the day ; for, ye ken, ii a' the folk in the world
were to die but only ae man, it would behove
iiat man to hae his dinner."
To this sage observation the grey-haired peni-
tent made no reply ; and Walter finished his
meal without attempting to draw him again into
conversation.
In the afternoon Claud left his elbow-chair, and
walked slowly and heavily up the path which led
to the bench he had constructed on the rising
ground, where he was so often in the practice of
contemplating the lands of his forefathers ; and
on gaining the brow of the hill he halted, and
once more surveyed the scene. For a moment it
would seem that a glow of satisfaction passed
272
THE ENTAIL
273
'i
Mr
ay, alter
:inued to sit
lything that
placed on the
did not join
ral as he was
or ony dinner
in the world
^ould behove
-haired peni-
finished his
im again into
ow-chair, and
th which led
3n the rising
e practice of
ifathers ; and
halted, and
a moment it
etion passed
over his heart ; but it was only a hectical flush,
instantly succeeded by the nausea of moral dis-
gust, and he turned abruptly round, and seated
himself with his back towards the view which
had afforded him so much pleasure. In this
situation he continued some time, resting his
forehead on his ivory-headed staff, and with his
eyes fixed on the ground.
In t' 3 meantime, Mr Keelevin having called
on the Heverend Dr Denholm, according to
Claud's wish, to request he would visit him in
the afternoon, the venerable minister was on his
way to Grippy. On reaching the house, he was
informed by one of the maid-servants that her
master had walked to his summer-seat on the
hill, whither he immediately proceeded, and found
the old 1 'in still rapt in his moody and mournful
meditations.
Claud had looked up as he heard him approach,
and^ pointing to the bench, beckoned him to be
seated. For some time they sat together without
speaking, the minister appearing to wait in ex-
pectation that the penitent would address him
first ; but observing him still disposed to continue
silent, he at last said —
" Ml Keelevin told me, Mr Walkinshaw, that
ye wished to see me under this dispensation with
which the hand o' a righteous Providence has
visited your family."
*' I'm greatly obligated to Mr Keelevin," replied
Claud thoughtfully; '^he's a frien'ly and a very
VOL. I. s
274.
THE ENTAIL
lonest man. It would liae been happy vri' me
the day, Dr Denhohn, had I put mair confidence
in liim ; but I dout, I doot, I hae been a' my Hfe
a sore hypocrite."
'' 1 was aye o' that notion," said the reverend
doctor, not quite sure whether the contrition so
humbly expressed was sincere or affected ; but
the meek look of resignation with which the
desolate old man replied to the cutting sarcasm
moved the very heart of the chastisv'^r with strong
emotions of sympathy and grief; and he added,
in his kindliest manner —
" But I hope, Mr Walkinshaw, that I may say
to you, ' Brother, be of good cheer ; ' for if this
stroke, by which your first-born is cut off frcm
the inheritance of the years that were in the
promise of his winsome youth, is ta'en and borne
as the admonition of the vanity of setting your
heart on the thin .^s of carnal life, it will prove to
you a great blessing for evermore."
There was something in the words in which
this was couched that, still more painfully than
the taunt, affected the disconsolate penitent, and
he burst into tears, taking hold of the minister's
right hand graspingly with his left, saying, " Spare
me, doctor ! Oh, spare me, an' it be possible ! —
for the worm that never dieth hath coiled itsel'
within my bosom, and the fire that's never
quenched is kindled arourl me. What an* it be
for ever?"
"Ye shouldna, Mr Walkinshaw,"
THE RNTAIL
275
cappy v'l me
lir confiilence
3en a' my life
the reverend
contrition so
affected ; but
h Avhich the
tting sarcasm
r with strong
nd he added,
lat I may say
• ; ' for if this
cut off frcni
were in the
en and borne
setting your
will prove to
rds in which
lainfully than
)enitent, and
he minister's
nng, " Spare
e possible ! —
coiled itsel'
that's never
hat an' it be
replied the
^y
clergyman, awed by the energy and solemnity
of his manner, *^ Ye shouidna entertain such
desperate thouglits, but h()j)e for better things;
for it'^ a blithe thing for your precious soul to be
ac last sensible o' vour own unworthiness."
''Ay, doctor; but alack for me! I was aye
sensible o' that. I hae sinned wi' my een open ;
and I thought to mak up for't by a strict observ-
ance o' church ordinances."
'''Deed, Mr Walkinshaw, there are few shortt'r
roads to the pit than through the kirk-door ; and
many a Christian has been brought nigh to the
death, thinking himsel' cheered and guided by
the sound o' gospel-preaching, when, a' the time,
his car was turned to the sough ^ o' perdition."
" What shall I do to be saved ? " said the old
man, reverentially and timidly.
"Ye can do naething yoursel', Mr Walkin-
shaw," replied the minister ; and he proceeded,
with the fearlessness of a champion and the energy
of an apostle, to make manifest to his under-
standing the corruption of the human heart, and
its utter unworthiness in the pure eyes of Him
who alone can wash away the Ethiopian hue of
original sin and eradicate the leopard spots of
personal guilt.
While he spoke, the bosom of Claud was con-
vulsed, he breathed deeply and fearfully, his
eyes glared, and the manner in which he held
his hands, trembling and slightly raised, showed
1 Sough. A sucking, whistling sound.
27f)
THE ENTAIL
tlijit his wliole inward being was transfixed, as it
were, with a liorriole sense of some tremendous
a])ocaly|)se.
"I fear, I fear, Dr Dcnholm," he exclaimed,
"that I can ^»" o hope!"
The vcneu^o.^ pastor was struck witli the
desjjair of the ex})ressi()n, and, after a short
pause, said, " Dinna let yoursel' despond. Tak
comfort in the mercy of God : surely your life
hasna been blacken't wi' ony great crime ? "
" It has been one continued crime," cried the
penitent. " Frae the first hour that my remem-
brance can look back to, down to the very last
minute, there has been no break or interruption
in the constancy of my iniquity. I sold my
soul to the Evil One in my childhood, that I
might recover the inheritance of my forebears.
Oh, the pride of that mystery ! And a' the time
there was a voice within me that wouldna be
pacified wi' the vain promises I made to become
another man as soon as ever my conquest was
complete."
''I see but in that," said the pious doctor, in
a kind and consoling manner, " I see but in a'
that, Mr Walkinshaw, an inordinate love of the
world ; and noo that ye' re awakened to a sense
of your danger, the Comforter will soon come.
Ye hae aye been reputed an honest man, and
no deficient in your moral duties, as a husband,
a parent, a master, and a friend."
Claud clasped his hands fervently together,
THE ENTAIL
277
isfixed, as it
tremendous
2 exclaimed,
ck with the
Iter a short
jspond. Tak
•ely you^ ^^^^
t crime ? "
ne," cried the
it my remem-
the very last
ir interruption
'. I sold my
dhood, that 1
my forebears.
,d a the time
,t wouldna be
lade to become
conquest was
jious doctor, in
see but in a'
:e love of the
led to a sense
111 soon come,
lest man, and
las a husband,
Intly together,
exclaimin<Tf, " O God ! Thou hast ever seen my
hyj)ocrisy ! I)r Denhohn," — and he took him
firmly by the liand, — '* when I was but a bairn I
kentna what it was to iiae the innocence o' a
young heart. I used to hide the sma' j)resents of
siller I got frae my frien's, even when Maudge
Dobbie, the auld kind creature that brought me
up, couldna earn a sufficiency for our scrim pit
meals ; I didna gang near her when I kent she
was in poortith and bedrid, for fear my heart
would relent, and gar me gie her something out
o' the gathering I was making for the redemption
o' this vile yird (that is mair grateful than nie,
for it repays with its fruits the care o* the tiller).
I stifled the very sense o' loving-kindness within
me ; and, in furtherance of my wicked avarice,
I married a woman — Heaven may forgie the
aversion I had to her, but my own nature never
can
Dr Denholm held up his hands, .• nd con-
templated in silence the humbled and prostrate
spirit that was thus proceeding with the frightful
confession of its own baseness and depravity.
" But," cried the penitent, " I canna hope that
ye're able to thole the sight that I would lay
open in the inner sepulchre of my guilty con-
science — for in a' my rej): obation I had ever the
right before me, when I deliberately preferred
the wrang. The angel of the Lord ceased not,
by night or bv day, to warsle for me ; but I
clung to Baal, and spurned and kicked whenever
278
THE ENTAIL
1 .
the messenger of brightness and grace tried to
tak me away."
The old man paused, and then looking towards
the minister, who still continued silent, regarding
him with C()ni})assionalc amazement, said —
" Doctor, what can I expect ? "
" Oh, Mr Walkinshaw ! but ye hae been a
dure sinner," was the simple and emphatic reply ;
" and I hope that this sense o' the evil of your
way is an admonition to a repentance that may
lead you into the right road at last. Be ye,
therefore, thankful for the warning ye hae now
gotten of the power and the displeasure of God."
" Many a warning," said Claud, " in tokens
sairer than the plagues o' Egypt, which but
grieved the flesh, hae I had in the spirit ; but
still my heart was harden't till the destroying
angel slew my first-born."
'^ Still, I say, b- Tl:ankful, Mr Walkinshaw!
Ye hae received a singui\c manifestation of the
goodness of God. Your s\»ii_, we're to hope, is
removed into a better world. lie's exposed no
more to the temptations of this life ; a' care wi'
him is past, a' sorrow is taken from him. It's no
misfortune to die, but a great risk to be born ;
and nae Christian should sorrow, like unto those
who are without hope, when Death, frae ahint
the black ye It, puts forth his ancient hand and
pulls in a brother or a sister by the skirts of the
garment of flesh. 'J'he like o' that, Mr Walkin-
tihaw, is naething ; but when, by the removal of a
ace tried to
dwi towards
[it, regarding
said —
hae been a
phatic reply ;
evil of your
ice that may
last. Be ye,
p ye hae now
sure of God.
I, " in tokens
t, which but
lie spirit; but
[le destroying
Walkinshaw !
station of the
to hope, is
's exposed no
fe ; a care wi'
him. It's no
to be born;
ke unto those
th, frae ahint
ent hand and
skirts of the
it, Mr Walkin-
,e removal of a
E-ai:
lUi
on liis krec-
o
>78
li
'• of bri^^htne^t' .ind }^rncc tried to
:\WH\
n p;tii'<-(l, ami tlicn lookin;^ toward>^
. r, who ^^11 coutinned Micnt, rc^s^ardii)}^'
liiui with r-.':ntK} rn itna/cnifnt. viid
'^ !.)(). I expect f"
. ,haw I hut ve hae been -.
hi- simple and emphatic replv
.;i.iv this sen>c o' the e\ il of yon r
admonitioii to a n-penlaiue that mi-
li-ad v«»u iTito the ri^vlit road at last. f>c y
therefore, thankful ior the \vaniin«r ye luic no>^
ootteii of the ponor and the displeasure of (iod.'
dill'
M
mv
a warninir,
sairer
H
I an
t)'
stii]
•ved the H'
he?
ujv
sav
lac receive*
Ye I
SToodness o
I
vemov
f God. \<-
ed intt) a lu'ttir v
lid Claud, '•■ in tokei
o' KL'vpt, \vhii-li bu"
! liad in the spirit; bn;
•irdeii't till the destroyi);^^
, Mr Walkinshaw
lanifestation of th'
■'re to hope, i
ic's exposed ii
* 1 ; i i .
niore to the temptation-- of this life; a' care w<
])ini is past, a' sorrow is taken from him. It'h ;•
misfortune to die, but a i;reat risk to he born
and iiae Christian ,<ilio!ild sorrow, hke unto tho-
who are with(mt h"pf. when Death, frac ahi:
th" bhiek yell, ]>uts ibrtlv his ancient hand an«'
pi
dls in a brother or a
i)V
the skirts of tli-
ar
ujent of iiesh, 'I he h.ke o' that, iMr Walk
!!■
bna\\
nacum
Ih
111!' when, b\ tlic removal of
ICC tried t<»
An^ towarcU
it., rcgardiiJj;
}iae been »
phatic rc])l>
evil of ynnr
lluit Ilia;
ast. lie y.
\c liac no\^
lire of God.'
, *' ill tokfi-
, -whieh !>»:"
ic spirit; bu
destroyii'i'
w alkinsliaw
,t.»tion of tl
to liope, ;
'X}K»StMl 11
a' care wi
iiin. It's :•
(> he born
• > unlo tbo>
frae aliii:
'. band am'
;irts of U"'
Mr Walk-
cnioval o't .
>
,V.^VlA'-l*
FalliiiL^ (111 liis kiiee>. Lla->i>ed liis hands tui^etlier.
s
s
t
t
b
t
M
f(
t]
T
SI
fc
IK
Ui
lo
fl(
so
d(
er
THE ENTAIL
279
friend, we are taught to see the error of our way,
it's a great thing for us — it's a blithe thing. And,
therefore, I say unto you again, Brotlicr, be of
good cheer, for in this temporal death of your
son, maybe the Lord has been pleased to bring
about your own salvation."
" And what may be the token whereby I may
venture to take comfort frae the hope ? "
''There's nae surer sign gi'en to man than that
token : when ye see this life but as a pilgrimage,
then ye may set forward in your way rejoicing ;
when ye behold nothing in your goods and gear
but trash and splendid dirt, then may ye be sure
that ye hae gotten better than silver or gold ;
when ye see in your herds and flocks but fodder
for a carnal creature like the beasLs that perish,
then shall ye eat of the heavenly manna ; when
ye thirst to do good, then shall the rock be
smitten, and the waters of life, flowing forth, will
follow you wheresoever you travel in the wilder-
ness of this world."
The venerable pastor suddenly paused, for at
that moment Claud laid aside his hat, and falling
on his knees, clasped his hands together, and
looking towards the skies, his long grey hair
flowing over his back, he said with awful
solemnity, " Father, Thy will be done ! — in the
devastation of my earthly heart, I accept the
erles^ of Thy service."
He then rose with a serene countenance, as if
^ Erics. Earnests.
280
THE ENTAIL
his rigid features had undergone some benignant
transformation. At that moment a distant strain
of wild and holy music, rising from a hundred
voices, drew their attention towards a shaggy
bank of natural birch and hazel, where, on the
sloping ground in front, they saw a number of
Cameronians, from Glasgow and the neighbouring
villages, assembled to commemorate in worship
the persecutions which their forefathers had
suffered there for righteousness' sake.
After listening till the psalm was finished,
Claud and Dr Denholm returned towards the
house, where they found Leddy Grippy had
arrived. The old man, in order to avoid any
unnecessary conversation, proposed that the ser-
vants shoukl be called in, and that the doctor
should pray — which he did accordingly, and at
the conclusion retired.
le benignant
listant strain
n a hundred
is a shaggy
here, on the
I number of
neighbouring
3 in worship
^fathers had
:e.
v'as finished,
towards the
Grippy had
;o avoid any
that the ser-
t the doctor
ngly, and at
CHAPTER XLV
vJN Monday Claud rose early, and, without wait-
ing for breakfast, or heeding the remonstrances
of his wife on the risk he ran in going afield
fasting, walked to Glasgow, and went directly to
the house of his mother-in-law, the aged Leddy
Plealands, now considerably above fourscore. The
natural delicacy of her constitution had received
so great a shock from the death of Charles that
she was unable that morning to leave her room.
Having, however, brought home with her th^
two orphans until after the funeral, their grand-
father found them playing in the parlour, and
perhaps he was better pleased to meet with them
than had she been there herself
Although they knew him perfectly, yet the
cold and distant intercourse which arose from his
estrangement towards their father had prevented
them from being on those terms of familiarity
which commonly subsist between children and
their grandfathers ; and when they saw him enter
the room they immediately left their toys on the
floor, and, retiring to a corner, stood looking at
him timidly, with their hands behind.
9»X
282
THE ENTAIL
The old mfin, without seeming to notice their
innocent reverence, walked to a chair near the
window and sat down. His demeanour was as
calm and his features as sedate as usual, but his
eyes glittered with a slight sprinkling of tears,
and twice or thrice he pressed his elbows into his
sides as if to restrain some inordinate agitation of
the heart. In the course of a few minutes he
became quite master of himself, and looking for
a short time compassionately at the children, in-
vited them to come to him. Mary, the girl, who
was the youngest, obeyed at once the summons ;
but James, the boy, still kept back.
"What for wilt t'ou no come to me .''" said Claud.
" I'll come if ye'll no b rt me," replied the child.
" Hurt thee ! What for, poor thing, should I
hurt thee.''" inquired his grandfather, somewhat
disturbed by the proposed condition.
"I dinna ken," said the boy, still retreating;
"but I am fear't, for ye hurt papa for naething,
and mamma used to greet for't."
Claud shuddered, and in the spasmodic effort
which he made to suppress his emotion he un-
consciously squeezed the little hand of the girl
so hardl)^, as he held her between his knees, that
she shrieked with the pain, and flew towards her
brother, who, equally terrified, ran to shelter him-
self behind a chair.
For some time the old man was so much affected
that he felt himself incapable of speaking to them.
But he said to himself —
icli affected
THE ENTAIL 283
" It is fit that I should enchirc this. I sowed
tares, and maunna expcck wheat."
The children, not finding themselves angrily
pursued, began to recover courage, and again to
look at him.
" I didna mean to hurt thee, Mary," said he
after a short interval. " Come, and we'll mak
it up ; " and turning to the boy, he added, " I'm
very wae that e'er I did ony wrang to your father,
my bonnie laddie, but I'll do sae nae mair."
" That's 'cause ye canna help it," replied James
boldly ; " for he's dead — he's in a soun' soun' sleep
— nobody but an angel wi' the last trumpet at his
vera lug is able to waken him ; and Mary and me,
and mamma — we're a' gaun to lie down and die
too, for there's nobody now in the world that
cares for us."
"I care for you, my lambie, and I'll be kind to
you ; I'll be as kind as your father."
It would appear that these words had been
spoken affectionately ; for the little girl, forgetful
of her hurt, returned, and placed herself between
his knees. But her brother still stood aloof
" Eat will ye be kind to mamma ? " said the
boy, with an eager and suspicious look.
"That I will," was the answer. "She'll ne'er
again hae to blame me, nor hae reason to be
sorrowful on my account."
" But werena ye ance papa's papa } " rejoined
the child, still more suspiciously.
The old man felt the full force of all that was
284
THE ENTAIL
meant by these simple expressions, and he drew
his hand hastily over his eyes to wipe away the
rising tears.
((
And will ye never trust me ? " said he sorrow-
fully to the child, who, melted by the tone in
which it was uttered, advanced two or three steps
towards him.
" Ay, if ye'll say as sure's death that ye'll no
hurt me."
" Then I do say as sure's death," exclaimed
Claud fervently, and held out his hand, which
the child, running forward, caught in his, and
was in the same moment folded to his grand-
father's bosom.
Leddy Plealands had, in the meantime, been
told who was her visitor, and being anxious, for
many reasons, to see him at this crisis, opened
the door. Feeble, pale, and delicate, the vener-
able gentlewoman was startled at seeing a sight
she so little expected, and stood several minutes
with the door in her hand before she entered.
"Come in!" said Claud to her, "come in! I
hae something to say to you anent thir bairns.
Something maun be done for them and their
mother; and I would fain tak counsel wi* you
concernin't. Bell Fatherlans is ouer frush ^ a
heart to thole wi' the dinging and fyke o' our
house, or I would tak them a' hame to Grippy ;
but ye maun devise some method wi' her to mak
their loss as light in worldly circumstances as my
1 Frush. Frail ; brittle.
THE ENTAIL
285
md he drew
pe away the
d he sorrow-
the tone in
r three steps
;hat ye'll no
exclahned
liand, which
in his, and
) his grand-
mtime, been
anxious, for
L'isis, opened
, the vener-
eing a sight
eval minutes
entered.
come in ! I
thir bairns.
1 and their
isel wi' you
er frush ^ a
fyke o' our
to Grippy ;
her to mak
ances as my
means will alloc ; and whatsoever you and her
'gree upon, Mr Keelevin will see executed baith
by deed and paction."
" Is't possible that ye're sincere, Mr Walkin-
shaw.'*" replied the old lady.
Claud made no answer, but disconsolately shook
his head.
"This is a mercy past hope, if ye're really
sincere."
"I am sincere," said the stern old man
severely ; " and I speak wi' humiliation and con-
trition. I hae borne the rebuke of thir babies,
and their suspicion has spoken sermons of re-
proaches to my cowed spirit and broken heart."
" What have ye done } " inquired the lady,
surprised at his vehemence. " What have you
done to make you speak in such a way, Mr
Walkinshaw ? "
" In an evil hour I was beguiled by the Moloch
o' pride and ambition to disinherit their father,
and settle a' my property on Watty, because he
had the Plealands ; but from that hour I hae
never kent what comfort is, or amaist what it
is to hope for heavenly mercy. But I hae lived
to see my sin, and I yearn to mak atonement.
When's that's done, I trust that I may be per-
mitted to lay down my head and close my een
in peace."
Mrs Hypel did not well know what answer
to make. The disclosure seemed to her so ex-
traordinary that she looked at Claud as if she
286
THE ENTAIL
m
distrusted what she heard, or was disposed to
question the soundness of his mind.
"I see," he added, "that, like the orphans, ye
dinna believe me ; but, like them, Mrs Hypel,
ye'll maybe in time be wrought to hae compas-
sion on a humbled and contrite heart. A', there-
fore, that I can say for the present is : Consult
wi' Bell, and confer wi' Mr Keelevin : he has
full power frae me to do whatsoever he may
think just and right; and what ye do, do quickly,
for a heavy hand is on my shouther, and there's
one before me in the shape o' my braw Charlie
that waves his hand and beckons me to follow
him."
Tlie profound despondency with which this
was uttered overwhelmed the feelings of the old
lady. Even the children were affected, and dis-
engaging themselves from his arms, retired to-
gether, and looked at him with wonder and awe.
" Will ye go and see their mother } " said the
lady, as he rose and was moving towards the
door. He halted, and for a few seconds appeared
to reflect ; but suddenly looking round, he replied,
with a deep and troubled voice, —
"No. I hae been enabled to do mair than I
ever thought it was in my power to do ; but I
canna yet — no, not this day — I canna yet venture
there. I will, however, by-and-by. It's a penance
I maun dree,i and I will go through it a'."
And with these words he quitted the house,
^ Dree. Endure.
disposed to
orplians, ye
Mrs Hypel,
lae coinpas-
A', there-
is ; Consult
in : he has
ver he may
, do quickly,
and there's
•raw Charlie
le to follow
which this
;s of the old
id, and dis-
retired to-
r and awe.
? " said the
owards the
ds appeared
, he replied,
nair than I
► do ; but I
yet venture
's a penance
a .
the house.
THE ENTAIL
287
leaving the old gentlewoman and the children
equally amazed, and incapable of comprehending
the depth and mystery of a grief which, mournful
as the immediate cause certain! was, undoubtedly
partook in some degree of religious desj)air.
CHAPTER XLVI
J lETWEEN the interview described in the pre-
ceding chapter and the funeral nothing remark-
able appeared in the conduct of Claud. On the
contrary, those habits of reserve and taciturnity
into which he had fallen from the date of the
entail were apparently renewed, and, to the
common observation of the general eye, he
moved and acted as if he had undergone no
inward change. The domestics, however, began
to notice that, instead of the sharp and con-
temptuous manner which he usually employed
in addressing himself to Walter, his voice was
modulated with an accent of compassion, and
that, on the third day after the death of Charles,
he, for the first time, caressed and fondled the
affectionate natural's darling, Betty Bodle.
It might have been thought that this simple
little incident would have afforded pleasure to
her father, who happened to be out of the room
when the old man took her up in his arms ; but
so far from this being the case, the moment that
Waiter returned he ran towards him and snatched
tlie child away.
288
[
in the pre-
ing remark-
ad. On the
1 taciturnity
date of the
md, to the
i-al eye, he
idergone no
vevitr, began
p and con-
y employed
is voice was
passion, and
of Charles,
fondled the
odle.
this simple
pleasure to
of the room
s arms ; but
[noment that
md snatched
TIIK ENTAIL 28f)
" What for dost t'ou tak the bairn frae me sac
frightedly, Watty ? " said Claud in a mild tone of
remonstrance, entirely different from anything he
had ever before addressed to him.
Walter, however, made no reply, but retiring
to a distant ])art of the room, carefully inspected
the child, and frecpicntly incpiired \vhere she was
hurt, although she was laughing and tickled with
his nursery-like proceedings.
"What gars t'ee think, Watty," rejoined his
father, 'Hhat I would hurt the wean ?"
"'Cause I hae heard you wish that the Lord
would tak the brat to nimsel'."
"An' I did, Watty, it was nae ill wish."
"So I ken, or else the minister lies," replied
Walter ; " but I wouldna like, for a' that, to hae
her sent till Him ; and noo, as they say ye're ta'en
up wi' Charlie's bairns, I jealouse ye hae some end
o' your ain for rookety-cooing wi' my wee lictty
Bodle. I canna understand this new-kvthed ^
kindness — so, gin ye like, father, we'll just be
fair gude-e'en and fair gude-day, as we were
wont."
This sank deeper into the wounded heart of
his father than even the distrust of the orphans ;
but the old man made no answer. W alter, how-
ever, observed him muttering something to him-
self as he leant his head back, with his eyes
shut, against the shoulder of the easy-chair in
which he was sitting ; and rising softly with the
^ Ncio-kythcd. Newly manifested.
VOL. I. T
290
THE ENTAIL
child in his ,irms, walked cautiously behind tlie
chair, and bent forward to listen. But the words
were spoken so inwardly and thickly that nothing
could be overheard. While in this position, the
little girl jilayfully stretched out her hand and
seized her grandfather by the ear. Startled from
his prayer or his reverie, Claud, yielding to the
first impulse of the moment, turned angrily round
at being so disturbed, and, under the influence
of his old contemptuous regard for Watty, struck
him a severe blow on the face ; but almost in
the same instant, ashamed of his rashness, he
shudderingly exclaimed, throbbing with remorse
and vexation, —
<( Forgie me, Watty, for I know not what I do ! "
and he added, in a wild ejaculation, " Lord ! Lord !
Oh, lighter, lighter lay the hand o' Thy anger upon
me ! The reed is broken 1 Oh, if it may stand wi'
Thy pleasure, let it not thus be trampled in the
mire ! But why should I supplicate for any favour?
Lord of justice and of judgment, let Thy will be
done ! "
Walter was scarcely more confounded by the
blow than by these impassioned exclamations, and
hastily quitting the room, ran, with the child in
his arms, to his mother, who happened at the
time, as was her wont, to be in the kitchen on
household cares intent, crying —
" Mother I mother ! my father's gane by hiiiV
sel' ; he's aff at the head ; he's daft, and ta'cn
to the praising o' the Lord at this time o' day."
THE ENTAIL
291
But, excepting this trivial incident, nothing,
as we have already stated, occurred between the
interview with Leddy Plealands and the funeral
to indicate, in any degree, the fierce combustion
of distracted thoughts which was raging within
the unfathomable caverns of the penitent's bosom.
All without, save but for this little effusion, was
calm and stable. His external appearance was as
we have sometimes seen Mount Etna in the sul-
lenness of a wintry day, when the chaos and fires
of its abyss uttered no sound, and an occasion;:!
gasp of vapour was heavily breathed along the
grey and gloomy sky. Everything was still and
seemingly steadfast. The woods were silent in all
their leaves ; the convents wore an awful aspect of
unsocial solemnity ; and the ruins and remains of
former ages appeared as if permitted to moulder
in unmolested decay. The very sea, as it rolled
in a noiseless swell towards the black promon-
tories of lava, suggested strange imageries of uni-
versal death, as if it had been the pall of the
former world heavily moved by the wind. But
that dark and ominous tranquillity boded neither
permanence nor safety : the traveller and the
inhabitant alike felt it as a syncope in nature,
and dreaded an eruption or a hurricane.
Such was the serenity in which Claud passed
the time till Saturday, the day appointed for the
funeral. On the preceding evening, his wife went
into Glasgow to direct the prejiarations, and al)()ut
noon he followed her, and took his scat, to receive
292
THE ENTAIL
the guests, at the door of the principal room ar-
ranged for the company, with James, the orphan,
at his knee. Nothing uncommon passed for some
time ; he went regularly through the ceremonial of
assistant chief mourner, and in silence welcomed,
by the customary shake of the hand, each of the
friends of the deceased as they came in. When
Dr Denholm arrived, it was observed that his limbs
trembled, and that he held him a little longer by
the hand tlian any other ; but he too was allowed
to pass on to his seat. After the venerable minister,
Mr Keelevin made his appearance. His clothes
were of an old-fashioned cut, such as even still
may occasionally be seen at West-country funerals,
among those who keep a special suit of black
for the purpose of attending the burials of their
friends ; and the sort of quick, eager look of
curiosity which he glanced round the room, as
he lifted his small cocked hat from off his white,
well-powdered, Ionic curled tie-wig, which he
held firm with his left forefinger, provoked a
smile, in despite of the solemnity of the occasion.
Claud grasped him impatiently by the hand,
and drew him into a seat beside himself. " Hae
ye made out the instrument .^" said he.
"It's no just finished," replied Mr Keelevin;
" but I was mindit to ca' on you the morn, though
it's Sabbath, to let you see, for approbation, what
I have thought might be sufficient."
"Ye ou,;ht to hae had it done by this time,"
said Claud, somewhat chidingly.
THE ENTAIL
293
pal room ar-
, the orphan,
;sed for some
ceremonial of
le welcomed,
, each of the
5 in. When
that his limbs
;tle longer by
) was allowed
able minister,
His clothes
as even still
mtry funerals,
suit of black
urials of their
ascer look of
the room, as
oiF his white,
ig, which he
provoked a
the occasion,
by the hand,
[nself. " Hae
he.
Mr Keelevin;
morn, though
obation, what
by this time,"
'^ 'Deed should I," was the answer; "but ye
ken the lords are coming to the town next
week, and I hae had to prepare for the defence
of several unfortunate creatures."
"It's a judgment- time indeed," said Claud;
and, after a pause of several minutes, he added,
" I would fain no be disturbed on the Lord's day,
so ye needna come to Grip})y, and on Monday
morning I'll be wi' you betimes ; I liope a' may
be finished that day, for, till I liae made atone-
ment, I can expeck no peace o' mind."
Nothing further was allowed at that time to
pass between them ; for the betherals employed
to carry round the services of bread and wine ^
came in with their trays, and Deacon Gardner,
of the WTights, who had charge of the funeral,
having nodded to the Reverend Dr John Hamil-
ton, the minister of the Inner High Church, in
the district of which the house was situated, the
worthy divine rose, and put an end to all further
private whispering by commencing the prayer.
When the regular indoor rites and ceremonies
were performing, and the body had, in the mean-
time, been removed into the street and placed
on the shoulders of those who were to carry it to
the grave, Claud took his grandson by the hand,
and followed at the head, with a firmly knotted
countenance, but with faltering steps.
In the procession to the churchyard no particular
expression of feeling took place ; but when the
^ See Note A, Annals of the Parish.
294.
THE ENTAIL
first shovelful of earth rattled hollowly on the
coffin, the little boy, who still held his grand-
father by the finger, gave a shriek, and ran to
stop the gravedigger from covering it up. But
the old man softly and composedly drew him
back, telling him it was the will of God, and
that the same thing must be done to everybody
in the world.
'^And to me too.'*" said the child, inquiringly
and fearfully.
" To a' that live," replied his grandfather ; and
the earth being by this time half filled in, he
took off his hat, and looking at the grave for a
moment, gave a profound sigh, and again cover-
ing his head, led the child home.
CHAPTER XLYII
Immediately after the funeral, Claud re-
turned home to Gripi)y, where he continued
during the remainder of the day secluded in his
bed-chamber. Next morning, K^eing Sunday, he
was up and dressed earlier than usual ; and after
partaking s i.v : ly of breakfast he walked into
Glasgow, ana went straight to the house of his
daughter-in-law.
The widow was still in her own room, and not
in any state or condition to be seen; but the
children were dressed for church, and when the
bells began to ring he led them out, each holding
him by the hand, innocently proud of their new
black clothes.
In all the way up the High Street and down
the pathway from the churchyard gate to the
door of the cathedral he never raised his eyes ;
and during the sermon he continued in the same
apparent st'ite of stupor. In retiring from the
church, the little boy drew him gently aside from
the path to show his sister the spot where their
father was laid ; and the old man, absorbed in his
own reflections, was unconsciously on the point
295
295
THE ENTAIL
of stepping on the grave, when James checked
him —
"It's papa — dinna tramp on him."
Aghast and recoiling, as if he had trodden
upon an adder, lie looked wildly around, and
breathed quickly and with great difficulty, but
said nothing. In an instant his countenance
underwent a remarkable change : his eyes be-
came glittering and glassy, and his lips white.
His whole frame shook, and appeared under the
influence of some mortal agitation. His presence
of mind, however, did not desert him, and he
led the children hastily home. On reaching the
door, he cave them in to the servant that onened
it without sjieaking, and immediately went to
Grippy, where, the moment he had seated him-
self in his elbow-chair, he ordered one of the
servants to go for Mr Keelevin.
" What ails you, father ? " said Walter, who
was in the room at the time ; " ye speak unco
drumly ^ — hae ye bitten your tongue ? " But
scarcely had he uttered these words when the
astonished creature gave a wild and fearful shout,
and, clasping his hands above his head, cried,
" Help ! help ! something's riving my father in
pieces ! "
The cry brought in the servants, who, scarcely
*ess terrified, found the old man smitten with a
universal paralysis, his mouth and eyes dreadfully
distorted, and his arms powerless.
^ Drumly. Thickly.
les jhecked
lad trodden
Li'ound, and
fficulty, but
countenance
is eyes be-
lips white.
:1 under the
lis presence
lim, and he
eaching the
:hat ODened
]y went to
seated him-
one of the
Salter, who
speak unco
Lie ? " But
> when the
;arful shout,
head, cried,
y father in
lo, scarcely
tten with a
i dreadfully
THE ENTAIL
297
In the alarm and consternation of the moment,
he was almost immediately deserted : every one
ran in quest of medical aid. Walter alone
remained with him, and continued <^azing in his
face with a strange horror, which idiocy rendered
terrific.
Before any of the servants returned the violence
of the shock seemed to subside, and he appeared
to be sensible of his situation. The moment that
the first entered the room he made an effort to
speak, and the name of Keelevin was two or
three times so distinctly articulated that even
Walter understood what he meant, and imme-
diately ran wildly to Glasgow for the lawyer.
Another messenger was despatched for the leddy,
who had, during the forenoon, gone to her
daughter-in-law, with the intention of spending
the day.
In the meantime a doctor was procured ; but
he seemed to consider the situation of the patient
hopeless. He, however, as in all similar cases,
applied the usual stimulants to restore energy,
but without any decisive effect.
The weather, which all day had been lowering
and hazy, about this time became drizzly, and
the wind rose, insomuch that Leddy Grippy, wlio
came flying to the summons, before reaching
home was drenched to the skin, and was for some
time, both from her agitation and fatigue, in-
capable of taking any part in the bustle around
her husband.
298
THE ENTAIL
Walter, who liad made the utmost speed for
Mr Keelevin, returned soon after his mother, and
on appearing before his father, the old man eagerly
spoke to him, but his voice was so thick that few
of his words were intelligible. It was evident,
however, that he inquired for the lawyer ; for he
threw his eyes constantly towards the door, and
several times again was able to articulate his
name.
At last Mr Keelevin arrived on horseback, and
came into the room, dressed in his trotcosey,^
the hood of which, over his cocked hat, was
drawn so closely on his face that but the tip of
his sharp aquiline nose was visible. But, forgetful
or regardless of his appearance, he stalked with
long strides at once to the chair where Claud was
sitting ; and taking from under the skirt of the
trotcosey a bond of provision for the widow and
children of Charles, and for Mrs Milrookit, he
knelt down, and began to read it aloud.
''Sir," said the doctor, who was standing at the
other side of the patient, " Mr Walkinshaw is in
no condition to understand you."
Still, however, Mr Keelevin read on ; and when
he had finished he called for pen and ink.
" It is impossible that he can write," said the
doctor.
" Ye hae no business to mak ony sic observa-
tion," exclaimed the benevolent lawyer. " Ye
should say nothing till we try. In the name of
^ Trotcosey. A woollen covering for shoulders and head.
THE ENTAIL
299
5t speed for
mother, and
man eagerly
ick that few
vas evident,
'^yer ; for he
16 door, and
•ticulate his
rseback, and
5 trotcosey,^
id hat, was
it the tip of
Jut, forgetful
stalked with
e Claud was
skirt of the
; widow and
lilrookit, he
loud.
nding at the
inshaw is in
; and when
ink.
;e," said the
sic observa-
wyer.
fC
Ye
the name of
rs and head.
justice and mercy, is there nobody in this house
that will fetch me pen and ink ? "
It was evident to all present that Claud per-
fectly understood what his friend said ; and his
eyes betokened eagerness and satisfaction; but
the expression with which his features accom-
panied the assent in his look was horrible and
appalling.
At this juncture Leddy Grippy came rushing,
half dressed, into the room, her dishevelled grey
hair flying loosely over her shoulders, exclaiming — •
" What's wrang noo ? What new judgment has
befallen us } Whatna fearfu' image is that, like a
corpse out o' a tomb, that's making a' this rippet ^
for the cheatrie instruments o' pen and ink, when
a dying man is at his last gasp } "
" Mrs Walkinshaw, for Heaven's sake be quiet !
Your gudeman," replied Mr Keelevin, opening the
hood of his trotcosey and throwing it back, taking
off, at the same time, his cocked hat, " Your gude-
man kens very weel what I hae read to him. It's
a provision for Mrs Charles and her orphans."
" But is there no likewise a provision in't for
me } " cried the leddy.
" Oh, Mrs W^alkinshaw ! we'll speak o' that here-
after ; but let us get this executed aff-hand," ^ re-
plied Mr Keelevin. " Ye see your gudeman kens
what we're saying, and looks wistfully to get it
done. I say, in the name of God, get me pen
and ink."
^ Rippet, Small uproar. 2 Jff.hand. Straight away.
300
THE ENTAIL
"Ye's jL^et neither pen nor ink here, Mr
Keele\in, till my ri«^hts are cognost in a record
o' sederunt and session."
"Hush !" exclaimed the doctor.
All was silent, and every eye turned on the
patient, whose countenance was again hideously
convulsed. A troubled groan struggled and
heaved for a moment in his breast, and was
followed by short quivering through his whole
frame.
"It is all over!" said the doctor.
At these words the Icddy rushed towards the
elbow-chair, and, with frantic cries and gestures,
flew on the body, and acted an extravagance of
sorrow ten times more outrageous than grief. Mr
Keelevin stood motionless, holding the paper in
his hand ; and, after contemplating the spectacle
before him for about two or three minutes, shook
his head disconsolately, and replacing his cocked
hat, drew the hood of the trotcosey again over
his face, and left the house.
CHAPTER XLVIII
jrVS soon as the nature of tlie settlement which
Claud had made of his property was known, Leddy
Plealands removed Mrs Charles and the children
to her own house, and earnestly entreated her
daughter, the leddy, who continued to reside at
Grippy, managing the household cares there as
usual, to exerf; her influence with Walter to
make some provision for his unfortunate relations.
Even George, who, engrossed by his business and
his own family, cared almost as little as any man
for the concerns of others, felt so ashamed of his
father's conduct that, on the Sunday after the
funeral, he went to pay a visit of condolence to
his mother, and to join his exhortations to hers,
in the hope that something might be done. But
Walter was inexorable.
"If my father," said he, "did sic a wicked
thing to Charlie as ye a' say, what for would ye
hae me to do as ill and as wrang to my bairn }
Isna wee Betty Bodle my first-born, and, by
course o' nature and law, she has a right to a' 1
hae; what for, then, would ye hae me to mak
away wi' onything that pertains to her ? I'll no
be guilty o' ony sic sin."
301
302
tup: entail
"But yoii know, Walter," replied GeorjOje,
" that our father did intend to make some })ro-
vision both for Mrs Charles, her family, and our
sister, and it's really a dis<rraee to us all if nothinrj
be done for them. It was but a ehance that the
bond of provision wasna signed."
" Ye may say sae, Geordie, in your craeks at
the Yarn Club, ouer the punch-bowl, but I think
it was the will of Providence ; for, had it been
ordain't that Bell Fatherlans and her weans were
to get a part o' father's gear, they would Iiae
gotten't ; but ye saw the Lord took him to
Abraham's bosom before the bond was signed,
which was a clear proof and testimony to me that
it doesna stand wi' the pleasure o' Heaven that
she should get onything. She'll get nothing
frae me."
"But," again interposed George, "if you will do
nothing in consideration of our father's intention,
you ought in charity to think of her distress."
" Charity begins at hame, Geordie ; and wha
kens but I may be brought to want if I dinna
tak care i* "
" I'm sure," replied the merchant sharply, " that
many a one has who less deserved it."
"How do ye ken what I deserve?" cried
the natural, offended. " It's speaking ill o' the
understanding o' Providence to say I dinna
deserve what it has gi'en me. I'm thinking,
Geordie, Providence kens my deserts muckle
better than you."
THE ENTArr.
303
Ix^cldy Grippy, who (hirin«r this conversation
was sitting at the tahle in all the j)onip of hrr
new widow's weeds, with the bi«r Hihle before
her, in whieh slie was tryiii";- to read that edi-
fying chapter, the tenth of Neheniiah, here
interposed —
"Wheesht, wneesnt, Watty, and dinna blas-
pheme," said she; "and no be overly condii-
macious. Ye ken your father was a good man,
and nothing but the dart o' death prevented
him frae making a handsome provision for a' his
family, forbye you ; and no doubt, when ye hue
gotten the better o' the sore stroke o' the sudden
removal of the golden candlestick o' his life from
among us, ye' 11 do everything in a rational and
just manner."
"'Deed I'll do nae sic things, mother," was
the re{)ly ; " I'm mindit to hand the grip I liae
gotten."
"But ye're a Christian, Watty," resumed the
leddy, still preserving her well-put-on mourning
equanimity ; " and it behoves you to refleck that
a' in your power is gi'en to you but as a steward."
"Ye needna tell me that. But wha's steward
am I ? Isna the matter a trust for my bairn ? I'm
wee Betty Bodle's steward, and no man shall up-
braid me wi' being unfaithfu'," replied Walter.
" Ay, ay, Watty, that's very true in a sense,"
said she; "but whosoever giveth to the poor
lendeth to the Lord."
" That's what I canna comprehend ; for the
304
THE ENTAIL
Lord lias no need to borrow. He can mak a
world o' gold for the poor folk if He likes ; and
if He keeps them in poortith. He has His ain
reasons for't."
" Ah, weel I wat ! " exclaimed the lady pathe-
tically : " noo I fin' to my cost that my cousin,
Rinfi,:^n Gilhaise, the Mauchline maltster, had the
rights o't when he plea't my father's will, on
account of thy concos montis ; and, but for auld
pawky Keelevin, he would hae gotten the pro-
perty that's sae ill wair't on thee."
All this, however, made no impression ; but
George, in walking bach to Glasgow, several times
thought of what had fallen from his mother
respecting the attempt which had been made to
set aside her father's settlement, on the score of
Walter's idiocy ; and once or twice it occurred to
him that the thing was still not impracticable,
a^d thnt, being next heir of entail and nearest
male relative, it might be of advantage to his
own ' iHiily to get the management of the estate.
Thus, by a conversation intended to benefit the
disinherited heirs, the seed w^as sown of new
plans and proceedings worthy of the father's son.
From that period George took no further interest
in the affairs of his sister-in-law ; but his visits
became unusually frequent to Grippy, and he was
'generally always attended by some friend, whom
he led into conversation with his brother, calcu-
lated to call forth tlie least equivocal disclosures
of the state of Walter's muid.
THE ENTAIL
305
can mak a
likes; and
las His ain
lady pathc-
my cousin,
ter, had the
r's will, on
)ut for auld
en the pro-
ession ; but
everal times
his mother
len made to
the score of
occurred to
ipracticable,
and nearest
itage to his
f the estate.
benefit the
^wn of new
father's son.
ther interest
ut his visits
, and he was
riend, whom
other, calcu-
1 disclosures
But whatever were his motives for these visits
and this kind of conduct, he kept them close
within his own breast. No one suspected him of
any sinister desi<]fn, but many applauded his filial
attentions to his mother, — for so his visits were
construed, — and they were deemed the more
meritorious on account of the state of his own
family, his wife, after the birth of her twin
daughters, having fallen into ill-health. Indeed,
he was in general contemplated with sentiments
of compassion and respect. Everybody had heard
of his anxiety, on tlie death of his father, to pro-
cure some provision for his deceased brother's
family, and sympathised with the regret which
he expressed at finding Walter so niggardly and
intractable, for not a word w^as breathed of his
incapacity. The increased thoughtfulness and
reserve of his manner, which began, we may say,
from the conversation quoted, was in consequence
attributed to the effect of his comfortless domestic
situation ; and the public sympathy was consider-
ably augmented when, in the course of the same
year in which his father died, he happctied to
lose one of his daughters.
There were, however, among his friends, as
there are ahvavs about most men, certain shrewd
and invidious characters, and some among them
did not give him credit for so much sensiliility as
their mutual acquaintance in common j)arlance
ascribed to him. On the contrary, they openly
condemned his indelicacy in so often exposing
VOL. 1.
u
306
THE ENTAIL
the fooleries of his brother ; and those who had
detected the well-hidden sordid meanness of his
disposition wondered that he had so quietly
acquiesced in Walter's succession. But they had
either forgotten or had never heard of the cir-
cumstance to which his mother alluded with re-
spect to her relation's (the Mauchline maltster)
attempt to invalidate her father's will, and, of
course, were not aware of the address requisite to
prove the incapacity of a man whose situation had
been already investigated, and who, by a solemn
adjudication, was declared in the full possession
of all his faculties. Their wonderment was not,
however, allowed to continue long ; for an event
which took place within a little more than three
months after tlie death of his daughter ended all
debates and controversies on the subject.
e who had
ness of his
so quietly
t they had
3f the cir-
d with re-
3 maltster)
ill, and, of
requisite to
;uation had
Y a solemn
possession
it was not,
r an event
than three
r ended all
2t.
CHAPTER XLIX
X^EATH, it is said, rarely enters a house without
making himself familiar to the inmates. Walter's
daughter, a premature child, had from her birth
been always infirm and delicate. In the course
of the spring after her grandfather's death she
evidently grew worse, and towards the end of
summer it was the opinion of all who saw her
that she could not live long. The tenderness and
solicitude of her father knew no bounds. She
was, indeed, the sole object that interested him
in life ; he doted over her with the most single
and entire affection ; and when she died, he would
not believe, nor allow himself to think, she had ex-
pired, but sat by the bedside, preserving silence,
and preventing her from being touched, lest it
should awaken her from a slumber which he
fondly imagined was to establish her recovery.
No inducement could be contrived to draw him
from his vigilant watch, nor by any persuasion
could permission be obtained to dress her corpse.
George, in the meanwhile, called several times at
the house, and took occasion, in going there one
day, to ask the Reverend Doctor Denholm to
307
308
THE ENTAIL
I '
accompany lYti, under the pretext that perliaps
he mi^ht prevail with Walter to allow the body to
be removed, as it was beginning to grow offensive.
But when they reached the house Walter was
missing ; he had suddenly and unobserved quitted
the room where the corpse lay, and his mother,
availing herself of his absence, was busily pre-
paring for the interment.
They waited some time in e oectation of his re-
turn, believing he had only walked into the fields,
in consequence of the air of the chamber having
become intolerable ; but after conversing upwards
of an hour on general topics, some anxiety began
lo be expressed for his appearance, and his mother
grew so alarmed that servants were despatched in
all directions in quest of him. They had not,
however, proceeded far, when he was met on the
Glasgow road, coming with his niece Mary in his
arms, followed by Leddy Plealands' maid-servant,
loudly remonstrating with him for carrying off the
child, and every now and then making an attempt
to snatch it from his arms.
"What hae ye been about.'*" cried his mother
as she saw him approaching towards the house.
He, however, made no answer ; but, carrying the
child into the nursery, he immediately stripped it
naked, and dressed her in the clothes of his own
daughter, caressing and pleasing her with a thou-
sand fond assurances — calling her liis third Betty
Bodle, and betraying all the artless delight and
satisfaction with which a child regards a new toy.
THE ENTAIL
309
Dr Denholm happening to be among those who
wondered that his brother had permitted him to
succeed his father unmolested, on seeing this in-
disputable proof of idiocy according to the notions
of society, said —
'' I canna refrain, Mr George, from telling you
that I think it's no right to alloo such a fine pro-
perty as your father left to be exposed to wastrie
and ruination in the possession of such a haverel.
It's neither doing justice to the world nor to your
ain family ; and I redde you look about you — for
wha kens what he may do next ? "
Such an admonition, the involuntary incitement
of the moment, was not lost. George, in fact, had
been long fishing for something of the kind ; but
nothing had occurred to provoke so explicit an
opinion of Walter's obvious incapacity. He, how-
ever, replied cautiously —
" Some allowance, doctor, must be made for the
consternation of his sorrow ; and ye should know
that it's a kittle point of law to determine when a
man has or has not his sufficient senses."
"'Deed, Dr Denholm," added Lady Grippy,
who happened to be present, ^'what ye say is
very true ; for I can ne'er abide to think that
Watty's as he ought to be, since he refused to
make good his honest father's kind intents to
the rest o' the family. Here am I toiling and
moiling frae morning to night for his advantage ;
and would ye believe me, doctor, when I tell
you that he'll no alloo a blatk bawbee for any
310
THE ENTAIL
.
needful outlay ? and I'm obligated to tak frae
my ain jointure-money to pay the cost o' every-
tliing the house stands in need of."
"Not possible!" said George, with every in-
dication of the sincerest astonishment.
" Whether it's possible or whether it's pro-
bable I ken best mysel'/' replied the leddy.
" And this I ken likewise : that what I say is
the even-down truth ; and nae farther gane than
Mononday was eight days I paid Deacon Paul,
the Glasgow mason, thirteen shillings, a groat,
and a bawbee for the count o' his sklater that
pointed the skews ^ o' the house at Martinmas ;
and though I would supplicate, an' it were on my
knees, like Queen Esther, the dure Ahasuerus,
that he is, has no mercy. Indeed, I'll be nana
surprised gin he leaves me to pay a' the charge
o' his bairn's burial, which will be a black shame
if he does."
"This must not be endured," said George
gravely ; " and I am surprised, mother, ye never
spoke of such treatment before. I cannot sit
patient and hear that ye're used in such a cruel
and unnatural manner."
"It would be a blot on your character, Mr
George," rejoined the 'minister, "if ye did. Your
brother has been from his youth upward an evi-
dent idiot ; and ever since the death of his wife,
ony little wit he had has been daily growing less."
^ Sklater that pointed the skews. Slater who pointed tho
oblique parts of tho gable.
THE ENTAIL
311
lack shame
i pointed tho
" What ye say, doctor," resumed the leddy, " is
no to be controverted ; for, poor lad, he certainly
fell intil a sore melancholic at that time ; and it's
my conceit he has ne'er ri^^'itly got the better
o't ; for he was — hegh, sirs !- ae was till that time
the kindest o' a' my bairns ; bu* irae the day and
liour that his wife took her departel in childbed
he has been a changed creature. Ye'll mind
how outstrapolous and constipated he was at her
])urial ; and — it's wi' a heavy heart that I maun
say't — when his kind father, soon after, wanted to
mak a will and testament to keep us a' right and
comfortable, he was just like to burn the liouse
aboon our heads wi' his condumacity."
" I am well aware of the truth of much that
you have said ; but it's a painful thing for a man
to think of taking steps against the capacity of
his brother," replied George. " For, in the event
of not succeeding, he must suffer great obloquy
in the opinion of the world ; and you know that,
with respect to Walter, the attempt was once
made already."
"And everybody said," cried the leddy, "that
but for the devices of auld draughty ^ Keelevin,
he would hae been proven as mad as a March
hare ; and nae doubt, as he kens how he jookit
the law afore, he might be o' an instrumentality
were the thing to gang to a revisidendo. No that
I would like to see my bairn put into bedlam ; at
the same time, Dr Denholm, I wouldna be doing
» 1 Draughty. Artfiil.
312
THE ENTAIL
a Christian and a parent's part to the lave o' my
family an' I were to mak a mitigation against it."
"I do not think/' replied George, looking in-
quiringly at the reverend doctor, " that when a
man is proved incapable of condu:?ting his affairs
it is necessaiy to confine him."
" Oh, no ! not at all, Mr George," was the un-
suspicious minister's answer. " It would mak no
odds to your brother : it would only oblige you to
take the management of the estate."
" That," replied George, " would be far from
convenient, for the business of the counting-house
requires my whole attention. Ye can have no
notion, Dr Denhohn, how much this rebellion in
America has increased the anxieties of merchants.
At the same time, I would be greatly wanting
in duty and respect towards my mother were I
to allow her to remain any longer in such an
unhappy state, — to say nothing of the manifest
injustice of obliging her to lay out her own
proper jointure in repairs and other expenses of
the house."
Little more passed at that time on the subject;
but, in the course of walking back to Glasgow,
George was fortified in his intentions by the con-
versation of the doctor, or, what is perhaps more
correct, he appeared so doubtful and scrupulous
that the guileless pastor thought it necessary to
argue with him against allowing his delicacy to
carry him too far.
CHAPTER L
le far from
After the minister and George had left the
house, the cares — we should say the enjoyments —
of the leddy were considerably increased when
she had leisure to reflect on the sinjjular trans-
action by which Walter had supplied himself
with another child. What with the requisite
preparations for the funeral of his daughter next
day, and ''this new income," as she called the
adopted orphan, "that, in itself, was a handling
little short o' a birth," she had not, from the
death of her husband, found herself half so
earnestly occupied as on this sorrowful occasion.
The house rang with her admonitions to the ser-
vants, and her short quick steps, in consequence
of walking with old shoes down at heel, clattered
as cleverly as her tongue. But all this bustle and
prodigality of anxieties suffered a sudden suspen-
sion by the arrival of Mrs Charles Walkinshaw in
quest of her child. The little girl, however, was
by this time so delighted with the fondling and
caresses of her uncle that she was averse to return
home with her mother.
"I won'er," said Ltddv GripDv. "how
Lt'ddy Grippy,
ane
314
THE ENTAIL
in your straitened circumst.ince. Bell Fatherlans,
canna be thankfu' for sie a ^ratus almous as this.
Watty's a kintl-hearteo reature ; and ye may be
sure that neither scaitii iior scant ^ will be alloo't
to come near the wean while it stays in this house.
For my part, I think his kidnapping her has been
nothing less than an instigation o' Providence,
since he wouldna be constrained, by any reason
or understanding, to settle an aliment on you."
'^ I cannot, however, part with my child to him.
You know there are many little peculiarities about
Mr Walter that do not exactly fit him for taking
charge of children."
" But since he's willing to bear the cost and
charge o' her," said the leddy, ''^ye should mak no
■objeck, but conform ; for ye ken I'll hae the direc-
tion o' her edication ; and I'm sure ye wouldna
wish to see her any better brought up than was
our Meg, Mrs Milrookit, who could once play seven
tunes and a march on the spinet, and sewed a
f.atin piece at Embro, of Adam and Eve eating
the forbidden fruit under the tree of life, the like
of which hadna before been seen in a' this kintra-
side. In short. Bell, my dear, it's my advice to
you to let the lassie bide wi' us ; for, unless Watty
is put out o' the way, it may prove a great thing
baith for her and you, for he's a most 'conomical
creature, and the siller he'll save belyve will be
just a portion."
"W^hat do you mean," replied the
1 Siaith nor scant. Hurt nor want.
young
THE ENTAIL
315
Fatlu.'rlaiis,
lous as this.
ye may be
11 be alloo't
I this house,
er has been
Providence,
any reason
on you."
hi Id to him.
irities about
1 for taking
le cost and
)uld mak no
le the direc-
ye wouldna
ip than was
e play seven
nd sewed a
Eve eating
ife, the like
this kintra-
ly advice to
nless Watty
great thing
; 'conomical
yve will be
the young
widow eagerly, "about putting him out of the
way ?
" Ah, Bell Fatherlans ! " exclaimed the leddy in
her most pathetic manner, '^ little ken ye yet what
it is to hae a family. This has, indeed, been a
house o' mourning the day, even though we hadna
a body in it waiting for interment. The minister
has been here wi' Geordie, and it's his solid opinion
— we a' ken what a man o' lair and judgment Dr
Denholm is, — he thinks that Watty's no o' a faculty
to maintain the salvation of the family property ;
and when your gude-brother heard how I hae been
used, he said that neither law nor justice should
oblige him to let his mother live any longer in
this house o' bondage and land o' Egypt ; so that,
when we get the wean put aneath the ground,
there aiblins will be some 'terrogation as to the
naturality of Watty's capacity, which, ye may be
sure, is a most sore heart to me, his mother, to hear
tell o'. But if it's the Lord's will, I maun submit;
for really, in some things, Watty's no to be thole't;^
yet for a' that. Bell, my dear, I would let him tak
his own way wi' your bairn, till we see what's to
be the upshot. For, and though I maun say it who
is his parent, it canna be weel denied that he's a
thought daft by course o' nature ; he may, never-
theless, be decreetit douce ^ enough by course o
law. Therefore, it's neither for you nor me to
mak or meddle in the matter, but gather the haws
afore the snaws, betide whatever may betide."
1 Thole I. Endured. 2 j)oicce. Sensible.
316
THE ENTAIL
We cjiniiot venture to say that Mrs Charles
Walkinshaw was exaetly what we should call sur-
prised at this information. She knew enough of
the characters of her mother-in-law and of George
to hear even more extraordinary communications
from the former unmoved. We need scarcely add,
however, that the leddy's argument was not calcu'
lated with her to produce the effect intended ; on
the contrary, she said —
" What you tell me only serves to convince me
of the impropriety I should be guilty of in leaving
my child with W^alter."
But their conversation was interrupted at this
juncture by the entrance of Walter, leading Mary.
" I'm come," said he, " Bell Fatherlans, to tell
you that ye're to gang away hame, and bring
Jamie here to stay wi' us. The house is big
enough to hand us a', and it'll be a grand ploy to
my mother — for ye ken she has such a heart for
a thrangerie ^ but and ben, that, rather than want
wark, she'll mak a baby o' the beetle,^ and dance
tiirt, cracking her thumbs, and singing —
* Dance to your deddie, my bonny leddie ;
Jink through the reelie ; jook round the wheelie ;
Bob in the setting, my bonny lamb ;
And ye's get a slicie o' a dishie nicie —
Red-cheekit apples and a mutton ham.'
So just gang hame at ance. Bell, and bring your
^ Thrangerie. A condition of constant employment for all
in the household. See Annals of the Paris'i, vol. i, p. 196.
■■* Beetle. The heavy wooden mallet used in mangling.
Tin-: ENTAIL
31
convince me
laddie, and we'll a' live tho^ithor, and rookctycoo
wi' ane anither like doos in a doocot."
But aIthou«:^h Leddy Grippy certainly did like
a bustle with all her heart and spirit, she had
still that infirmity which ever belongs to human
nature gifted with similar proj)ensities, namely, a
throbbing apprehension at the idea of it, such
as mankind in general sufFir in the prosj)ect of
enjoying pleasure ; and the expression of this
feeling with her took commonly the form and
language of repugnance and reluctance ; yea,
sometimes it even amounted to refusal.
''What say ye?" cried she to Walter, under a
strong impression of it at the moment. ''Are
ye utterly bereave't o' your senses, to speak o'
bringing the lade o' another family on my
hands ?"
"I'm sure," was his answer, "if ye dinna like
to tak the pleasure o't, ye're free to set up your
jointure-house, and live the life o' dowager-
duchess, for me, mother. But Bell Fatherlans
and her bairns are to come here, — for this is my
house, ye ken — settled on me and mine, past a'
power o' law, by my father — and what's my ain
I'll mak my ain."
" Wha would hae thought o' sic outcoming o'
kindness as this ! " replied the leddy. " I fancy.
Bell, ye'U hae to come and resident wi' us ? "
" An' she doesna," said Walter, " I'll gang away
■where never one kent me, and tak lier wee Mary
on my back in a basket, like Jenny Nettles, —
318
THE ENTAIL
that's what I v/ill ; so put the matter to your
knee and straight it."
" I'll niak a bargain, Mr Walter," replied Mrs
Charles. " I'll leave Mary to-night, and come*
after the burial to-morrow, with James, and stay
a few days."
'^Ye'll stay a' your days," exclaimed Walter;
"and as ye're a leddy o' niair genteelity than my
mother, ye shall hae the full rule and pov. er o'
the house, and mak jam and jelly; — a' the cast
o* her grace and skill gangs nae farther than
butter and cheese."
His mother was confounded, and unable for
some time to utter a word. At last, putting her
hands firmly into her sides, she said —
" My word, but tliou's no blate ! But it's no
worth my while to gang in'il a passion for a born
idiot. Your reign, my lad, 's no ordaint to be
lang, if there's either law or gospel among the
Fifteen at Embro. To misliken his mother ! To
misuse me as I were nae better than an auld
bachle,^ and, in a manner, to turn me out the
house ! "
"Oh, don't disturb yourself!" interposed Mrs
Charles ; " they were but words of course. You
know his humour, and need not be surprised at
what he says."
The indignant mother was not, however, soon
appeased : her wrath for some time burnt fiercely,
and it required no little dexterity on the part of
1 Bachle. Old shoe.
THE ENTAIL
319
/
her daughter-in-law to allay the altercation which
ensued ; but in the end her endeavours proved
successful, and the result was an arrangement
that the child should be left for a day or two,
to ascertain whether Walter's attachment ^^as
dictated by caprice or a transfer of liis affections.
Ami in order to preserve quiet, and to prevent
any extravagance that might be injurious to the
little girl, it was also arranged that her mother
and brother should likewise spend a few weeks
at Grippy.
\
CHAPTER LI
J. HE news of the arrangement, wlien com-
municated to Dr Denholm and George at the
funeral next day, produced on them very opposite
effects. Tlie minister, who was naturally of a
warm and benevolent disposition, persuaded him-
self that the proposal of Walter to receive his
sister-in-law and her family was dictated by a
sense of duty and of religion, and regretted that
he had so hastily expressed himself so strongly
respecting his incapacity. Indeed, every one who
heard the story put upon it nearly the same sort
of construction, and applauded the uncouth kind-
ness of the natural as brotherly and Christian.
George, however, saw it perhaps more cor-
rectly ; but he was exceedingly disturbed by the
favourable impression which it made on the minds
of his acquaintance, and hesitated to indulge his
desire to obtain the management of the estate.
But still he continued his visits to Grippy, and
took every opportunity of drawing the attention
of his friends to the imbecility of his brother.
Nothing, however, occurred to further his wishes
till the term of Martinmas after the incident
320
THE ENTAIL
321
len corn-
mentioned in the foregoing chapter, when, on
receiving his rents, he presented his sister-in-law
with a ten-pound note, at the same time counting
out, to the calculation of a halfpenny, the balance
he owed his mother of her jointure, but absolutely
refusing to repay her any of the money she had in
the meantime disbursed for different little house-
hold concerns and repairs, — saying that all she
had laid out was nothing in comparison to what
she was due for bed tmd board. This was the un-
kindest cut of all; for slie justly and truly esti-
mated her services to him as of far more value.
However, she said nothing ; but next day, on the
pretext of going to see her mother, who was now
very infirm, and unable to quit her chamber, she
went to Glasgow and called on George, to whom
she made a loud and long complaint of the insults
she had received, and of the total unfitness and
unwortliiness of his brother to continue uncon-
trolled in the possession of the estate.
George sympathised with her sorrows and her
sufferings like a dutiful son, and comforted her
with the assurance that he would lose no time in
taking some steps for her relief and the preserva-
tion of the property ; and, as she consented to
remain that day to dinner, it was thought that,
considering the disposition Walter had shown to
squander his gifts on his sister-in-law, without
any consideration for the rest of the family, it
might be as well to consult Mr Keelevin on the
occasion. A message accordingly was des|)atched
VOL. r. X
322
THE ENTAIL
to the honest lawyer, besfc^inc^ him to call after
dinner ; in short, every demonstration was made
by Geor<re to convince his mother how much
better her worth was appreciated by him than by
his brother. And she was not only consoled, but
delighted with the sincerity of his attentions.
In due time Mr Keelevin made his appear-
ance ; and the leddy began a strong representa-
tion of all the indignities which she had endured,
but her son softly and mildly interposed, saying —
''It is of no use, my dear mother, to trouble
Mr Keelevin with these things ; he knows the
infirmities of Walter as well as we do. No doubt,"
he added, turning to the lawyer, ''you have
heard of the very extraordinary manner in which
my brother took Mrs Charles and her family to
Grippy."
" I really," replied the honest-hearted man,
" had no idea that he possessed so nmckle feeling
and common-sense, but I was very happy to heart.
For, his own wean being no more, I'm sure he
can do nothing better than make up to the dis-
inherited orphans some portion of that which, but
for your father's sudden death, would hae been
provided for them."
George knew not what reply to make to this ;
but his mother, who, like the rest of her sex,
had an answer for all subjects and occasions
ever ready, said —
" It's weel to ca't sense and feeling, but if I
were obligated to speak the truth, I would baptize
THE ENTAIL
32.3
it wi' another name. It's no to be rehearsed by
•
the tongue o' man, Mr Keelevin, what I hae borne
at the hands of the haverel idiot since the death
of him that's awa — vour auld friend, Mr Keelevin.
He was a man of a capacity, and had lie been
spared a comfort to me, as he was, and aye sae
couthy ^ wi' his kindness, I wouldna kent what it
is to be a helpless widow. But surely there maun
be some way o' remeid for us a' in thir straits .'*
It's no possible that Walter can be alloo't to
riot and ravage in sic a most rabiator-like
manner — for I needna tell you that he's ganc
beyond all counsel and admonition. Noo, do ye
think, Mr Keelevin, by your knowledge and skill
in law, that we can get him cognost, and the
rents and rule o' the property ta'en out of his
hands ? For, if he gangs on at the gait he's
going, I'll be herri't, and he'll no leave himself
ae bawbee to rub on anither."
" What has he done } " inquired the lawyer a
little thoughtfully.
" Done ! What has he no done .'* He gied
Bell Fatherlans a ten-pound note, and was as
diire as a smith's vice in the grip when I wantit
him to refund me a pour o' ready-money that I
was obligated to lay out for the house."
George, who had watched the lawyer's counte-
nance in the meantime, said —
'^ I doubt, mother, few will agree in thinking
of that in the way you do. My sister-in-law
1 Couthy. Affectionate.
^HH
324
THE ENTAIL
stands in need of his kindness ; but your jointure
is more than you require, for, after all your terrible
outlays," and he smiled to Mr Keelevin as he said
the words, "you have already saved money."
" But what's that to him ? " exclaimed the leddy.
" Isna a just debt a just debt ? — wasna he bound to
pay what I paid for him ? — and is't no like a daft
man and an idiot to say he'll no do't ? I'm sure,
Mr Keelevin, I needna tell you that Watty was
ne'er truly concos-montes. How ye got him
made sound in his intellectuals when the law-
plea was about my father's will ye ken best
yoursel' ; but the stramash ^ that was thereanent
is a thing to be remembered."
Mr Keelevin gave a profound sigh, adding^ in a
sort of apologistic manner, —
" But Walter has maybe undergone some change
since that time } "
"Yes," said George; "the grief and conster-
nation into which he was thrown by the sudden
death of his wife had undoubtedly a great effect
on his mind."
" He was clean dementit at that time," cried
the leddy ; " he would neither buff nor stye - for
father nor mother, friend nor foe ; a' the king's
forces wouldna hae gart him carry his wife's head
in a wiselike manner to the kirkyard. I'm sure,
Mr Keelevin — for ye were at the burial — ye may
1 Stranmsh. Uproar.
2 Buff nor stye. A peculiar uso of the term, that may be
rendered, " One thing nor another."
our jointure
^'our terrible
n as he said
loney."
d the leddy.
he bound to
) like a daft
? I'm sure,
Watty was
^e got him
;n the law-
e ken best
thereanent
adding,, in a
)Ome change
md conster-
the sudden
great effect
time/' cried
lor stye - for
the king's
wife's head
I'm sure,
ial — ye may
n, that may be
THE ENTAIL
325
mind that her fither, Kilmarkccklc, had to do't,
and lost his canary snuff by a twirl o' the wind
when he was taking a pinch, as they said, after
lowering her head intil the grave, which was
thought, at the time, a most unparcnt-like action
for any man to be about at his only dochter's
burial."
Mr Keelevin replied, '^ I will honestly confess
to you that I do think there has of late been signs
of a want about Mr Walter ; but in his kindness
to his poor brother's widow and family there's
great proof and evidence both of a sound mind,
reason, and a right heart. Ye'll just, Mrs Walkin-
shaw, hae to fight on wi' him as well as ye can ;
for, in the conscience o' me, I would, knowing
what I know of the family, be wae and sorry
to disturb such a consolatory manifestation of
brotherly love."
"That's just my opinion/* said George, "and I
would fain persuade my mother to put up with
the slights and ill-usage to which she is so dis-
tressingly subjected ; at the same time, I cannot
say but I have my fears that her situation is likely
to be made worse rather than better, for Walter
appears disposed not only to treat her in a very
mean and unworthy manner, but to give the whole
dominion of the house to Mrs Charles."
" Na," exclaimed the leddy, kindling at this
dexterous awakening of her wrongs. " He did
far waur ; he a'maist turned me out o' the house
by the shouthers."
■^W'
*^ ''*i^
3y(i
THE ENTAIL
tt
Did he lay hands on you, his motlier ? " in-
quired Mr Keeievin witli his })rofessional accent
and earnestness. But George prevented her from
replyin<r, by sayin<if tliat liis mother naturally felt
much molested in receiving so harsh a return
for the particular partiality with which she had
always treated his brother ; and was proceeding
in his wily and insidious manner to fan the flame
he scijK^.ed so anxious to smother. Mr Keeievin,
bf vr^^/i- ■ of a sudden appeared to detect his drift,
ant ^ave jv.m such a rebukinj; look that he became
confused and embarrassed, during which the honest
lawyer rose and wished them good afternoon ;
saying to George, who accompanied him to the
door, —
" The deil needs baith a syde cloak and a wary
step to hide his cloven foot. I'll say nae mair,
Mr George ; but dinna mak your poor brother's
bairns waur than they are ; and your mother
shouldna be eggit on in her anger, when she
happens, poor body, to tak the dods now and then
— for the most sensible of women hae their turns
o' tantrums, and need baith rein and bridle."
CHAPTER LII
X HOPE and trust," said Leddy Grippy as
George returned from conducting the lawyer to
the door, "that ye'll hae inair compassion for your
mother than to be swayed by the crooked counsels
o' yon quirkie bodie. I could see v« a eel that
he has a because o' his ain for keej ng 'bs thumb
on Watty's unnaturality. But, Geordie, he's no
surely the only lawyer in the town ? I wat there
are scores baith able and willing U " ak the business
by the hand ; and if there should be nane o' a
sufficient capacity in Glasgow, just tak a step in
till Embro', where, I hae often heard my honest
father say, there are legions o' a capacity to con-
test wi' Belzebub himsel'."
" I am very anxious, mother, to do everything
to promote your happiness," was the reply ; " but
the world will be apt to accuse me of being
actuated by some sinister and selfish motive. It
would be most disgraceful to me were I to fail."
" It will be a black-burning shame to alloo a
daft man any longer to rule and govern us like a
tyrant wi' a rod o' iron, pooking and rooking me,
liis mother, o' my ain lawful jointure and honest
32H
THE ENTAIL
li.'iininf]fs,^ forbye skailini^ and scattcriniij his in-
Iieritaiice in a manner as if tcn-poiuul notes were
tree-leaves at Hallowe'en."
" I am quite sensible of the truth and justice of
all you say ; but you know the uncertainty of the
law/' said George, "and the consequences would
be fatal to me were we not to succeed."
*' And what will be the consequences if he were
taking it in his head to marry again ? He would
mak nae scruple of sending me off frae (Jrippy at
an hour's warning."
This touched the keenest nerve of her son's
anxieties; and he was immediately alarmed by a
long vi»sionary vista of unborn sons, rising between
him and the succession to the estate ; — but he only
appeared to sympathise with his mother.
" It's not possible/' said he, " even were he to
many again, that he could be so harsh. You have
lived ever since your marriage with my father at
Grippy. It's your home, and endeared to you by
many pleasing recollections. It would be extreme
cruelty now, in your declining years, to force you
to live in the close air, and up the dirty turnpike
stairs o' Glasgow."
" It would soon be the death o' me," exclaimed
the leddy, with a sigh, wiping one of her eyes with
the corner of her apron. " In short, Geordie, if
ye dinna step out and get him put past the power
o' marrying, I'll regard you as little better than
art and part in his idiocety. But it's time I were
1 Hainlnys. Earnings,
THE ENTAIL
:V29
yiuir his in-
nott's were
1(1 justice of
linty of the
*nces would
^ if he were
He would
e CJrippy at
f her son's
irmed by a
ig between
but he only
r.
were he to
You have
ly father at
1 to you by
be extreme
force you
y turnpike
exclaimed
r eyes with
Geordie, if
the power
etter than
nie I were
taking the road, for they'll a' be marvelliii<if what
keeps me. There's, however, ae thiii;^ I would
advise you, and that is ; Tak (rmlc care and no
mint what we hae been spi'akin*; o' to living
creature ; for nobody can tell what detriment the
born idiot niii;lit do to us baith were he to ^et an
inkliujL!; before a's ready to put the strait-waistcoat
o' the law on him ; so I redde you set about it in
a wary and wily manner, that he may hae nae cause
to jealouse your intent."
There was, however, no great occasion for the
latter part of this speech, Cieorge being perfectly
aware of all the difficulties and delicacies of the
case ; but he said —
" Did he ever attempt actually to strike you .'* "
" Oh, no ! " rej)lied his mother ; " to do the fool
thing justice, it's kindly enougb in its manner;
only it will neither be governed nor guided by
me as it used to be, which is a sore trial."
"Because," rejoined George, "had he ever
dared to do so, there woukl then have been less
trouble or scruple in instituting proceedings
against him."
" Na ; an' it's ony way to commode the business,
we might soon provoke him to lift his hand ; but
it's a powerful creature, and I'm fear't. However,
Geordie, ye might lay yoursel' out for a bit slaik
o' its paw ; so just come ouer the morn's morning
and try, for it'll no do to stand shilly-shallying, if
we hope to mak a right legality o't."
Cowardice is the best auxiliary to the police;
330
THE ENTAIL
and George had discretion enougli not to risk
the d.'in«]jer of rousinj^ the slcej)in«if lion of his
brother's Herculean sinews. Ikit, in other re-
spects, he t(K)k his mother's advice ; and, avoid-
ing the guilt of causing an offence, in order that
he might be able to prosecute the offender, he
applied to Gabriel Pitwinnoch, the writer, from
whose character he expected to encounter fewer
scruples and less scrutiny than with Mr Keelevin.
In the meantime the leddy, who had returned
home to Grippy, })reserved the most entire reserve
upon the subject to all the inmates of" the family,
and acted her j)art so well that even a much
more suspicious observer than her daughter-in-
law would never have suspected he." of double
dealing. Indeed, any change that could be per-
ceived in her manner was calculated to lull every
suspicion ; for she appeared more than usually
considerate and attentive towards Walter, and
even condescended to wheedle and coax him on
different occasions, when it would have been
more consonant to her wonted behaviour had she
employed commands and reproaches.
In the course of a week after the interview
with Mr Keelevin, George went to Edinburgh,
and he was accompanied in his journey by the
■wary Gabriel Pitwinnoch. What passed between
them on the road, and whom they saw and what
advice they received in the intellectual city, we
need not be particular in relating ; but the result
was that, about a week after their return, Gabriel
TIIK ENTAIL
Slil
not to risk
lion of his
1 other re-
nm\, Hvoid-
order tliat
jfrender, he
writer, from
unter fewer
Ir Keck'vin.
.1(1 reiurned
itire reserve
the family,
en a much
lau^hter-in-
■ of double
uld be per-
;o lull every
han usually
»Valter, and
oax him on
have been
our had she
B interview
Edinburgh,
ney by the
ed between
V and what
•al city, we
: the result
rn, Gabriel
came to Orippy, accompanied by a stranger, of
whose conse(juenee and rank, it would appear,
the leddy had some previous knowledge, as she
deported herself towards him with a degree of
ceremonious deference very unusual to her habits.
The str^mger, indeed, was no less a personage
than Mr Threeper, the advocate, a gentleman of
long standing and great practice in the I*arliament
House, and much celebrated for his shrewd per-
ception of technical Haws and clever discrimina-
tion of those nicer points of the law that are so
often at variance with justice.
It happened that, when this learned doctor of
the Caledonian Padua arrived with his worthy
associate, Mrs Charles W'alkinshaw was in the
fields ; but, the moment her son James saw him,
he was so struck with his aj)j)earance that he
ran to tell her. Walter also followed him, under
the influence of the same feeling, and said —
"Come in. Hell Fatherlans, and see what a
warld's w(jn'er Pitwinnoch the writer has brought
to our house. My mother says it's a haudthecat,
and that it g-'ings about the town o' Embro', walk-
ing afore the Lords in a black gown, wi' a wig
on'ts head. I marvel what the creature's come
here for. It has a silver snuff-box, that it's aye
pat-patting ; and ye would think, to hear it
speak, that King Solomon, wi' a' his hundreds o'
wives and concubines, was but a fool to him."
Mrs Charles was alarmed at hearing of such a
visitor ; for the journey of George and Pitwiniioch
332
THE ENTAIL
to E(linhuri]!;li immediately occurred to her, and
a feelinpf of compassion, minified with f^ratitude
for the kindness which Walter had lately shown
to herself and her children, su'.^gested that she
ought to put him on his guard.
"Walter," said she, "I would not advise you
to go near the house while the two lawyers are
there — for who knows what they may do to you ?
But go as fast as ye can to Glasgow, and tell Mr
Keelevin what has happened ; and say that I
have some reason to fear it's a visit that bodes
you no good, and therefore ye'll stand in need of
his advice and assistance."
The natural, who had an instinctive horror of
the law, made no reply, but, with a strong expres-
sion of terror in his countenance, immediately
left her, and went straight to Glasgow.
o her, and
li gratitude
tcly shown
d that she
advise you
awyers are
do to you ?
ind tell Mr
say that I
that bodes
in need of
e horror of
m<r expres-
nmediately
CHAPTER LlII
XJURIXG the journey of George and Pitwinnoch
to Edinburgh, a Brief of Cliancery liad been
(juietly obtained, directing the sherilf of the
county to summon a jury, to examine into the
alleged fatuity of Walter ; and the visit of the
latter with Mr Threeper, the advocate, to Gri})py,
was to meet George, for the purpose of deter-
mining with respect to the evidence that it might
be requisite to adduce before the inquest. All
this was conducted, as it was intended to appear,
in a spirit of the greatest delicacy towards the
unfortunate y <'//</ //.v, consistent with the administra-
tion of public justice.
" I can assure you," said our friend Gabriel to
Mr Threeper as they walked towards the house
— the advocate perusing the ground as he poked
his way along with his cane, and occasionally
taking snuff — '' I ciin assure you that nothing but
the most imperious necessity could have induced
Mr George Widkinshaw to institute these j)ro-
ceedings ; for he is a gentleman of the utmost
respectability, and, to my knowledge, has been
long and often urged in vain to get his br jlher
334>
THE ENTAIL
cognost; but, until the idiot's conduct became
so intolerable that his mother could no longer
endure it, lie was quite inexorable."
" Is Mr Creorge in affluent circumstances ? " said
the advocate dryly.
'' He is but a young man ; the house, however,
in which he is a partner is one of the most
flourishing in (ilasgow," was the answer.
" He has, j)erhaps, a large family' } "
" Oh dear, no ! only one daughter ; and his
wife," said Gabriel, ^'is, I understand, not likely
to have any more."
"She may, however, have sons, Pitwinn^ch,"
rejoined the advocate wittily, at the same time
taking snuff. '' But you say it is the mother that
has chiefly incited Mr Walkinshaw to this action."
" So he told me," replied the writer.
" Her evidence Avill be most important ; for it
is not natural that a mother would urge a process
of such a nature without very strong grounds
indeed, unless she has some immediate or distinct
prospective interest in the result. Have you any
idea that such is the case } "
"I should think not," said Gabriel.
" Do you imagine that such allowance as the
Court might gr.int for the custody of the fafuus
would have any influence with her?" inquired Mr
Threeper, without raising his eyes from the road.
" I have always understood," was the reply,
"that she is in the possession, not onlj' of a hand-
some jointure, but of a considerable provision.
THE ENTAIL
3.Sr)
ct became
IK) longer
ces ? " said
', liowever,
the most
; and his
not likely
winnf^ch/'
5ame time
other that
is action."
mt ; for it
! a process
J grounds
3r distinct
e you any
ce as the
;he fatuus
jnired Mr
the road,
lie reply,
f a hand-
provision,
specially disponed to her by the will of old Plea-
lands, her father."
" Ah ! was she the dauq-hter of old Plealands ? "
said the advocate. " It was in a cause of his that
I was first retained. He had the spirit of litiga-
tion in a very zealous degree."
In this manner the two redressers of wrongs
chattingly proceeded towards Grippy, by appoint-
ment, to meet George ; and they arrived, as we
have related in the foregoing chaj)ter, a few
minutes before he made his appearance.
In the meantime Watty hastened with ra])id
steps, goaded by a mysterious apprehension of
some impending danger, to the counting-house
of Mr Keelevin, whom he found at his desk.
" Weel, Mr Walter," said the honest writer,
looking up from a deed he was perusing, some-
what surprised at seeing him, '^ What's the best
o' your news the day, and what's brought you
frae Grippy ? "
" Mr Keelevin," replied Walter, going towards
him on tiptoe and whispc^ring audibly in his ear,
^^ril tell you something, Mr Keelevin ; — twa gleds^
o' the law hae lighted yonder ; and ye ken, by
your ain ways, that the likes o' them dinna flee
afield for naething."
"No possible!" exclaimed Mr Keelevin; and
the recollection of his interview with (ieorge and
the leddy flashing upon him at the moment, he
at once divined the object of their visit, and
^ Glcds. Kites.
336
THE ENTAIL
added, " It's most abominable ; — but ko' \ e what
they're seeking, Mr Walter?"
" No/' said he. " But Bell Fatln /l-irs bade me
come and tell you ; for she thought I might need
your counsel."
"She has acted a true friend's part, and I'm
glad yc're come," replied the lawyer; "and, for
her and her bairns' sake, I hope we'll be ;ible to
defeat tlieir plots and devices. But I would
advise you, Mr Walter, to keep out o' harm's
way, aiid no gang in the gait o' the gleds, as
ye ca' them."
" Hae ye ony ark or amrie, Mr Keclevin, where
a body might den himsel' till they're out o' the
gait and away ? " cried Walter timidly, and look-
ing anxiously round the room.
"Ye shouldna speak sic havers, Mr Walter,
))ut conduct yourself mair like a man," said his
legal friend grievedly. " Indeed, Mr Walter,
as I hae some notion that they're come to
tiik down your words, — maybe to spy your con-
duct, and mak iiae jijude report thereon to their
superiors, — tak m}' advice, and speak as little as
possible."
"I'll no say ae word; I'll be a dumbie ; I'll sit
as (juiet as ony anc o' the images afore liailie
Glasford's house at tlie head o' the Stoekwell.
King William himsel', on his bell-metal horse at
the Cross, is a ])oj)idar preacher, Mr Keelevin,
compared to what I'll be."
The sim})licity and sincerity with which this
\
\ e Avhat
IPS bade me
might need
rt, and I'm
•; *'and, for
he ;ible to
ut I would
t o' Iiarm's
le gleds, as
evin, where
5 out o' the
y, and look-
Mr Walter,
n/' said his
Mr Walter,
?, come to
r' your con-
on to their
as little as
hie : I'll sit
ifore Bailie
Stockwell.
tal horse at
• Keelevin,
M'hich this
THE ENTAIL
33T
was said moved the kind-hearted hnvy^r at once
to smile and sigh.
"There will, I hope, Mr Wjilter," said he, "be
no occasit)n to put any restraint like that upon
yoursel' ; only it's my advice to you, as a friend,
to enter into no conversation with any one you do
not well know, and to dress in your best clothes,
and shave yoursel', and in a' things demean and
deport yoursel' like the laird o' Kittlestoiihcugh
and the representative of an ancient and respected
family."
" Oh, I can easily do that ! " replied the natural ;
"and I'll tak my father's ivory-headed cane, with
the gold' n virl, and the silver e'e for a tassel, frae
ahint the scrutoire, where it has f«ve stood since
his death, and walk up nnd down i.ie front of the
house like a Glasgow magistrate."
" For the love o' heaven, Mr Walter," exclaimed
the lawyer, " do nae sic mad-like action ! The like
o' that is a' thev want."
" In whatna otiier way, then, ' said Walter
helplessly, " can I behave like a gentleman, or a
laird o' yird and stane, wi' the retinue o' an ancient
pedigree like my father's, Walkinshaw's o' Kittle-
stonheugh } "
" 'Deed," said Mr Keelevin com|>assionately,
"I'm wae to say't — but I doot, I (loot, it's past
the compass o' my power to advise v<)«u."
"I'm sure," exclaimed Walter (U'spairingly,
"that THE Maker was ill alf for a turn when lie
took to the creating o' lawyers. The deils are but
VOL. I.
Y
338
THE ENTAIL
'prentice work compared to them. I diiina ken
what to do, Mr Keelevin — I wisli that I was
dead; but I'm no Hke to dee, as Jenny says in
her wally-wac about her fatlier's cov/ and auld
Robin Gray."
" Mr Walter/' said his friend, after a pause of
several minutes, " go you to Mrs Hypel, your
grandmother, for the present, and I'll out to
Grippy and sift the meaning o' this visitation.
When I have gathered what it means, we'll hae
the better notion in what way we ought to figlit
with the foe."
" I'll smash them like a forehammer," exclaimed
Walter proudly. " I'll stand ahint a dike, and gie
them a belter ^ wi' stanes till I haena left the
souls in their bodies — that's what I will, if ye
ap{)rove o't, Mr Keelevin."
" Weel, wcel, Mr Walter," was the chagrined
and grieved reply, " we'll see to that when I
return ; but it's a terrible thing to think o' prov-
ing a. man uoii conipofi mvulis for the oidy sensible
action he ever did in all his life. Nevertheless,
I will not let myself despond ; and I have only
for the present to exhort you to get yoursel' in
a'i order and fitness to appear as ye ought to be,
for really, Mr Walter, ye alloo yoursel* to gang
pao like a divor that I dinna wonder ye liae been
X&ti\ notice o'. So I counsel you to mak yoursel'
trig, nnd no to play ony antics."
Waiter assured him that his advice would in
' Belter. Blows rc'iieatcd.
THE ENTAIL
339
dinna ken
hut I was
my says in
J and auld
a pause of
y])el, your
['11 out to
visitation.
;, we'll liae
;ht to fi^lit
exclaimed
ie, and gie
la left the
will, if ye
chagrined
t when I
ik o' prov-
ly sensible
vertheless,
have only
y'oursel' in
ight to be,
r to gang
I hae been
ik yoursel'
every respect be followed, and, leaving the office,
he went straight to the residence of his grand-
mother ; while Mr Keelevin, actuated at once by
his humanity and professional duty, ordered his
horse, and reached Grippy just as the advocate,
Mr Pitwinnoch, and George were on the point
of coming away, after waiting in vain for the
return of Walter, whom Mr Threeper was de-
sirous of conversing with personally.
would in
CHAPTER LIV
J. HE triumvirate and Ledtly Grij)py were dis-
concerted at the appearance of Mr Keelevin, — for
at that moment the result of Mr Threeper's in-
quiries among the servants had put them all in
the most agreeable and unanimous o])inion with
respect to the undoubted certainty of poor Watty's
fatuity. ''We have just to walk over the course,"
the advocate was saying, when Oeorge, hap})ening
to glance his eye towards the window, beheld the
benevolent lawyer coming up the avenue.
"Good heavens!" said he, "what can that old
pest Keelevin want here } "
" Keelevin ! " exclaimed the leddy. " That's a
miracle to me. I think, gentlemen," she added,
"ye had as weel gang away by the back-door, for
ye wouldna like, maybe, to be fashed wi' his con-
fabbles. He's no a man, or I'm far mista'en,
that kens muckle about the ])erjinketies o' the
law, though he got the j)oor daft creature harl't
through the difiiculties o' the plea wi' my cousin
Gilhaise, the Mauchline maltster. I'm very sure,
Mr Threeper, he's no an accjuaintance ye would
like to cultivate, for he hasna the talons o' an
340
THE ENTAIL
341
ic course,
advocate versed in the devices o' the courts, but
is a quirkie body, capable o' making law no law
at a', accordin^:^ to the best o' my discernment, —
which, to be sure, in matters o' locutorie>> and de-
creets, is but that o' a hamely household woman.
So I would advise you to eschew his company at
this present time."
Mr Threeper, however, saw farther into the
latly's bosom than slie suspected ; and as it is
never contrary to the interest of either advocate
or agent to avoid having causes contested, espe-
cially when there is, as was in this case, substance
enough to support a long and zealous litigation,
that gentleman said —
"Then Mr Keelevin is the agent who was em-
ployed in the former action ? "
"Just sae," resumed the leddy ; "and ye ken
he couldna, wi' ony regard to liimsel', be art and
part on this occasion."
" Ah, but, madam," re])lied the advocate ear-
nestly, " he may be agent for the fatuus. It is
therefore highly proper we should set out with
a right understanding respecting that point ; for,
if the allegations are to be controverted, it is im-
possible to foresee what obstacles may be raised :
although, in my opinion, from the evidence I have
heard, there is no doubt that the fatuity of your
son is a fact which cainiot fail to be in the end
substantiated. Don't you think, Mr Pitwinnoch,
that we had as well see Mr Keelevin.''"
*• Certainly, " said Gabriel. " And indeed, con
34ii
THE ENTAIL
sidi rin'( tli.it, by tlic brief to tlic shcriflT, the laird
is a party, perhaps even though Mr Keelevin should
not have been employed, it would be but fair, and
look well towards the \\orld, were he instrueted to
take up this case on behalf of the J atuus. What
say you, Mr Walkinshaw ? "
Cieor^e did not w ell know what to say, but i •
replied that, for many reasons, he was desirous
the whole affair should be managed as jn'ivately
as possible.
" If, however, the forms of the procedure re-
quire that an agent should act for Walter, I have
no objection ; at the same time, i do not think
Mr Keelevin the fittest {)erson."
''Heavens and earth!" exclaimed the leddy,
"here's a respondenting and a hearing, and the
Lord Ordinary and a' the Fifteen Lords frae Embro*
come to herry us out o* house and hall. Gentle-
men, an' ye'U tak my advice, who, in my worthy
father's time, had some inkling o' what the cost o'
law-pleas are, ye'll hae naething to do wi' either
Keelevin, Gardevine, or ony other vines in the
shape o' pro forma agents, but settle the business
wi' the slieriff in a douce and discreet manner."
Mr Threeper, looking towards Mr Pitwinnoch
and George, rapped his ivory snuff-box, rimmed
and garnished with gold, and, smiling, took a pinch
as Mr Keelevin was shown into the room.
" Mr George," said Mr Keelevin sedately, after
being seated, " I am not come here to ask need-
less questions, but, as man of business for your
THE ENTAIL
3Ui
:ho laird
in should
fair, and
ructcd to
What
y, but i •
desirous
j)rivately
cdure re-
ir, I have
lot think
le leddy,
, and the
le Ernbro'
Gentle-
\y worthy
he cost o'
A'i' either
?s in the
: business
inner."
twinnoch
, rimmed
>k a pinch
ely, after
isk need-
for your
brother, it will be necessary to serve me with
the proper notices as to what you intend."
Mr Threeper a<Tain had recourse to his box,
and Ciabriel looked in()uinn«rly at his client,
who could with difficulty conceal his confusion,
while the old lady, who had much more presence
of mind, said —
" May I be sae bold, Mr Keelevin, as to speer
wha sent you hero at this time }"
" I came at Mr Walter's own particular and
personal request," was the reply ; and he turned
at the same time towards the advocate, and added,
"That does not look very like fatuity."
" He never could hae done that o' his own free-
will. I shouldna wonder if the interloper. Bell
Fatherlans, sent him; but I'll soon get to the
bottom o't ! " exclaimed the leddv, and she im-
mediately left the room in cpiest of Mrs Cha"les,
to inquire. During her absence Mr Keelevin
resumed —
" It is not to be contested, Mr Threeper," for
he knew the person of the advocate, " that the
laird is a man o* singularities and oddities — we a'
hae our foibles ; but he got a gude education, and
his schoolmaster bore testimony on a former occa-
sion to his capacity ; and if it can be shown that
he does not manage his estate so advantageously
as he might do, surely that can never be objected
against him, when we every day see so many o' the
wisest o' our lairds, and lords, and country gentry,
falling to pigs and whistles, frae even-doun inatten-
'H'.
i>
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^«>
O^^^
IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)
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y
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WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580
(716) 872-4503
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iV
k
^9)
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6^
344
THE ENTAIL
tion or prodigality. I think it will be no easy
thing to prove Mr Walter incapable o' managing
his own affairs, with his mother's assistance."
" Ah, Mr Keelevin ! with his mother's assist-
ance ! " exclaimed the acute Mr Threeper. '^ It's
time that he were out of leading-strings, and
able to take care of himself, without his mother's
assistance — if he's ever likely to do so."
At this crisis the Icddy returned into the room
flushed with anger. " It's just as I jealoused,"
cried she ; " it's a' the wark o' my gude-dochter
— it was her that sent him : black was the day
she e'er came to stay here ; many a sore heart in
the watches o' the night hae I had sin' syne for
my poor, weak, misled lad ; for if he were left to
the freedom o' his own will, he wouldna stand on
stepping-stanes, but, without scrupulosity, would
send me, his mother, to crack sand, or mak my
leeving where I could, after wastering a' my
jointure."
This speech made a strong impression on the
minds of all the lawyers r)resent. Mr Keelevin
treasured it up, and said nothing. Our friend
Gabriel glanced the tail of his eye at the advo-
cate, who, without affecting to have noticed the
interested motive which the leddy had betrayed,
said to Mr Keelevin —
"The case, sir, cannot but go before a jury;
for, although the J atuus be of a capacity to repeat
any injunction M'liich he may have received, and
is not inconsistent M'ith a high degree of fatuity.
be no
easy
managing
istance."
ler's assist-
per. '' It's
trings, and
is mother's
o the room
jealoused/'
ide-dochter
as the day
>re heart in
n' svne for
vere left to
la stand on
isity, would
^r mak my
ing a' my
lion on the
r Keelevin
Our friend
the advo-
loticed the
■ betrayed^
re a jury;
y to re})eat
•eived^ and
of fatuity.
THE ENTAIL
345
it does not therefore follow that he is able to
originate such motions or volitions of the mind
as are requisite to constitute what may be deno-
minated a legal modicum of understanding, the
possession of which in Mr Walter W alkinshaw is
the object of the proposed inquiry to determine."
"Very well, gentlemen, since such is the case/'
replied Mr Keelevin, rising, "as I have under-
taken the cause, it is unnecessary for us to hold
any further conversation on the subject. I shall
be prepared to protect my client."
With these words he left the room, in some
hope that possibly they might induce (ieorge still
to stay proceedings. But the cupidity of George's
own breast, the views and arguments of his
counsel, and the animosity of his mother, all
co-operated to weaken their v^flact ; so that, in the
course of as short a time as the forms of the judi-
cature permitted, a jury was empannelled before
the sheriff, according to the tenor of the special
brief of Chancery which had been procured for
the purpose, and evidence as to the state of poor
Watty's understanding and capacity regularly
examined : — some account of which we shall pro-
ceed to lay before our readers, premising that Mr
Threeper opened tiie business in a speech replete
with eloquence and ingenuity, and all that meta-
physical refinement for which the Scottish Bar
was then, as at present, so justly celebrated.
Nothing, indeed, could be more subtile, or less
applicable to the coarse and daily tear and wear
346
THE ENTAIL
of human concerns, than his definition of what
constituted '^the minimum of understanding, or
of reason, or of mental faculty in general, which
the law, in its wisdom, required to be enjoyed
by every individual claiming to exercise the func-
tions that belong to man, as a subject, a citizen,
a husband, a father, a master, a servant — in one
word, to enable him to execute those different
essential duties which every gentleman of the
jury so well knew, and so laudably, so respectably,
and so meritoriously performed."
But we regret that our limits do not allow us
to enter upon the subject ; and the more so as it
could not fail to prove highly interesting to our
fair readers, in whose opinion the eloquence of
the Parliament House of Edinburgh, no doubt,
possesses many charming touches of sentiment
and amiable pathetic graces.
[on of what
ptanding, or
leral, which
be enjoyed
3e the fune-
|t, a citizen,
mt — in one
|se different
lan of the
respectably,
ot allow us
ore so as it
ting to our
oquence of
no doubt,
sentiment
CHAPTER LV
JL HE first witness examined was Jenny Purdie,
servant to Mr George Walkinshaw. She had pre-
viously been several y«ars in the service of his
father, and is the same who, as our readers
will perhaps recollect, contrived so femininely to
seduce half-a-crown from the pocket of the old
man when she brought him the news of the birth
of his son's twin daughters.
^^What is your opinion of Mr Walter Walkin-
shaw ? " inquired Mr Threeper.
"'Deed, sir," said Jenry, "I hae but a sma'
opinion o' him. " He's a daft man, ar d has been
sae a' his days."
" But what do you mean by a daft man ? "
" I thought everybody kent w hat a daft man
is," replied Jenny. "He's just silly, and tavert,^
and heedless, and o' an inclination to swattle in
the dire like a grumphie."
"Well, but do you mean to say," interrupted
the advocate, "that, to your knowledge, he has
been daft all his days ? "
" I never kent him ony better."
1 Tavert. Senseless.
S47
.348
THE ENTAIL
tf
But you have not known him all his days ;
therefore, how can you say he has been daft all
his days ? He might have been wise enough
when you did not know him."
" I dinna think it," said Jenny; '' I dinna think
it was ever in him to be wise ; he's no o' a nature
to be wise."
" What do you mean by a nature .'* Explain
yourself."
''I canna explain mysel' ony better/' was the
answer; "only I ken that a cat's no a dog, nor
o' a nature to be — and so the lairc could ne'er
be a man o' sense."
"Very ingenious indeed," said Mr Threeper ;
"and I am sure the gentlemen of the jury must
be satisfied that it is not possible to give a clearer,
a more distinctive, impression of the deficiency of
Mr Walkinshaw's capacity than has been given by
this simple and innocent country girl. But, Jenny,
can you tell us of any instance of his daftness ? "
"I can tell you o' naething but the sic-like
about him."
"Cannot you remember anything he said or
did on any particular day ?"
" Oh ay ! atweel I wat I can do that. On the
vera day when I gaed hame frae my service at the
Grippy to Mr George's, the sheep were sheared,
and Mr Watty said they were made sae naked
it was a shame to see them, and took one o' his
mother's flannen polonies to niak a hap lo Mall
I oup-thr>Dike, the auld ewe, for decency."
THE ENTAIL
349
all his days ;
been daft all
wise enough
dinna think
o o' a nature
't->
Expl
ain
er," was the
o a dog, nor
could ne'er
r Threeper;
le jury must
ve a clearer,
deficiency of
;en given by
But, Jenny,
laftness?"
the sic-like
he said or
it. On the
rvice at the
re sheared,
sae naked
one o' his
ip to Mall
icy."
Jenny was then cross-questioned by Mr Queerie,
the able and intelligent advocate employed for the
defence by Mr Keelevin ; but her evidence was
none shaken, nor did it appear that her master
had in any way influenced her. Before she left
the box the Sheriff said jocularly —
" I'm sure, from your account, Jenny, that Mr
Walkinshaw's no a man ye would like to marry } "
"There's no saying," replied Jenny. "The
Kittlestonheugh's a braw estate ; and mony a
better born than me has been blithe to put up
wi' houses and lan's, though wit and worth were
baith wanting."
The first witness thus came off with considerable
eclat, and indeed gained the love and affections, it
is said, of one of the jurors, an old bien carle, a
bonnet-laird, to whom she was, in the course of a
short time after, married.
The next witness was Mr Mordecai Saxheere,
preses and founder of that renowned focus of
sosherie the Yarn Club, which held its periodical
libations of the vintage of the Colonies in the
buxom Widow Sheid's tavern, in Sour-Milk John's
Land, a stately pile that still lifts its lofty head in
the Trongate. He was an elderly, trim, smooth,
Quaker-faced gentleman, dressed in drab, with
spacious buckram-lined skirts that came round
on his knees, giving to the general outline of his
figure the appearance of a cone supported on
legs in white worsted hose. He wore a highly
powdered horsehair wig, with a long queue,
350
THE ENTAIL
buckles at the knees and in his shoes, present-
ing, in the collective attributes of his dress and
appearance, a respect-bespeaking epitome of com-
petency, good eating, honesty, and self-conceit.
He was one of several gentlemen whom the long-
forecasting George had carried with him to Grippy
on those occasions when he was desirous to pro-
vide vdtnesses, to be available when the era should
arrive that had now come to pass.
"Well, Mr Saxheere," said the Edinburgh ad-
vocate, " what ha>'e you to say with respect to
the state of Mr Walter Walkinshaw ? "
"Sir," replied the preses of the Yarn Club,
giving that sort of congratulatory smack with
which he was in the practice of swallowing and
sending round the dram that crowned the sub-
stantial, and was herald to what were called the
liquidities of the club, — " Sir," said Mordecai Sax-
heere, " I have been in no terms of intromission
with Mr Walkinshaw of Grippy, 'cept and except
in the way of visitation ; and on those occasions I
always found him of a demeanour more sportive
to others than congenial."
" You are a merchant, I believe, Mr Saxheere,"
said Mr Threeper; "you have your shop in the
High Street, near the Cross. On the market-day
you keep a bottle of whisky and a glass on the
counter, from which, as I understand, you are in
the practice of giving your customers a dram —
first preeing or smelling the liquor yourself, and
then handing it to them. Now, I would ask you.
THE ENTAIL
351
es, present-
is dress and
jnie of corn-
self' conceit.
nn the long-
m to Grippy
rous to pro-
le era should
inburgh ad-
i respect to
Yarn Club,
smack with
llowing and
ed the sub-
B called the
ordecai Sax-
intromission
and except
occasions I
ore sportive
Saxheere/'
ihop in the
market-day
:iass on the
you are in
i a dram —
)urself, and
Id ask you.
if Mr Walkinshaw were to come to your shop
on the market-day, would you deal with him ?
Would you, on your oath, smell the glass, and
then ha: '^ it across the counter, to be by him
drunk off?
The advocate intended this as a display of
his intimate knowledge of the local habits and
usages of Glasgow, though himself but an Edin-
burgh man, in order to amaze the natives by his
cleverness.
"Sir," replied Mr Saxheere, again repeating his
habitual congratulatory smack, " much would rely
on the purpose for which he came to custom. If
he offered me yarn for sale, there could be no
opponency on my side to give him the fair price
of the day ; but if he wanted to buy, I m.ight
undergo some constipation of thought before
compliance."
" The doubtful credit of any wiser person might
produce the same astringency," said the advocate
slyly.
" No doubt it would," replied the preses of the
Yarn Club ; " but the predicament of the laird
of Grippy wouldna be under that denominator,
but because I would have a suspection of him in
the way of judgment and sensibility."
"Then he is not a man that you would think
it safe to trade with ar a customer ? " said the
Sheriff, desirous of putting an end to his prosing.
"Just so, sir," replied Mordecai; "for, though it
might be ^\afe in the way of advantage, I could not
352
THE ENTAIL
think myself, in tlie way of character, free from an
imputation were i to intromit with him."
It was not deemed expedient to cross-question
this witness ; and anotlier was called, a celebrated
professor of mathematics in the University, the
founder and preses of a club called the '' Anderson
Summer Saturday's." The scientific attainments
and abstract genius of this distinguished person
were undisputed ; but his simplicity of character
and absence of mind were no less remarkable.
The object that George probably had in view in
taking him, as an occasional visitor, to see his
brother was, perhaps, to qualify the professor to
bear testimony to the arithmetical incapacity of
Walter. And certainly the professor had always
found him sufficiently incapable to have warranted
him to give the most decisive evidence on that
head ; but a circumstance had occurred at the last
visit, which came out in the course of the investi-
gation, by which, it would appear, the opinion of
the learned mathematician was greatly shaken.
" I am informed, professor, that you are ac-
quainted with Mr Walter Walkinshaw. Will you
liave the goodness to tell the Court what is your
opinion of that gentleman } " said the advocate.
" My opinion is that he is a very extraordinary
man ; for he put a question to me when I last saw
liim which I have not yet been able to answer."
The advocate thought the professor said this in
irony, and inquired, with a simper, —
" And pray, what might that question be } "
THE ENTAIL
353
•• 1 was 'trying if he could calculate the alicjuot
parts of a j)ouiul ; and lie said to me, C'ould I
tell him the rccason that there were but four-
and-twenty bawbees in a shilling ? "
" You may retire," said the advocate, discon-
certed ; and the professor innuediately withdrew ;
for still the counsel in behalf of Walter declined
to cross-question.
'' The next witness that I shall produce,"
resumed Mr Threeper, '^is one whom I call with
extreme reluctance. Every man nuist sympa-
thise with the feelings of a mother on such
an occasion as this, and will easily comj)rehend
that, in the questions which my duty obliges
me to put to Mrs Walkinshaw, I am, as it
were, obliged, out of that sacred respect which
is due to her maternal sensibility, to address
myself in more general terms tlian I should other-
wise do."
The leddy was then called ; and the advocate,
with a solemn voice and pauses of lengthened
sadness and commiseration, said —
" Madam, the Court and the jury do not expect
you to enter into any particular description of the
state of your unfortunate son. They only desire
to know if you think he is capable of conducting
his affairs like other men."
" Him capable ! " exclaimed the leddy. '^ He's
no o' a capacity to be advised."
She would have proceeded further; but Mr
Threeper interposed, saying, " Madam, we shall
VOL. I. z
354
THE ENTAIL
not distress you further; the Court and the Jury
nui.>t be satisfied."
Not so was Mr Keelevin, who nodded to Mr
Qiieerie, the counsel for Walter ; and he innne-
d lately rose.
''I wish/' said he, "just to put one question to
the witness. How lon<^ is it since your son has
been so incapable of acting for himself.''"
" I canna gie you day nor date/' replied the
leddy ; " but he has been in a state of condu-
macity ever since his dochter died."
"Indeed!" said Mr Queerie ; "then he was
not always incapable } "
"Oh no!" cried the leddy; "he was a most
tractable creature, and the kindliest son/* she
added, with a sigh ; " but since that time he's
been neither to bind nor to hand, threatening
to send me, his mother, a-garsing ^ — ^rring me
lay out my own lawful jointure on the house, and
using me in the most horridable manner — waster-
ing his income in the most thoughtless way."
Mr Threeper began to whisper to our friend
Gabriel, and occasionally to look, with an afflicted
glance, towards the leddy.
Mr Queerie resumed —
" Your situation, I perceive, has been for some
time very unhappy ; but, I suppose, were Mr
Walkinshaw to make you a reasonable compen-
sation for the trouble you take in managing his
1 Garbing. To turn out, as a horse to grass when of no
more use ; to turn out of office.
THE ENTAIL
:i55
tliejury
I to Mr
e inime-
Jstion to
son has
ic'd the
condu-
he Wcas
a most
n," she
nie he's
;atening
ring me
jse, and
waster-
y-
' friend
ifflicted
r some
re Mr
»mpen-
ng his
n of no
house, you would have no objections still to con-
tinue with him ? "
''Oh ! to be surely," said the leddy ; "only it
would need to be something worth while ; and
my gude-dochter and her family would recjuire
to be obligated to gang hame."
" Certainly what you say, madam," is very
reasonable," rejoined Mr Queerie ; ''and I have
no doubt that the Court perceives that a gn^at
part of your distress, from the idiotry of your son,
arises from his having brought in ihc lady alluded
to and her family."
"It has come a' frae that," replied the witness,
unconscious of the force of what she was saying ;
" for, 'cepting his unnaturality to me about them,
his idiocety is very harmless."
" Perhaps not worse than formerly } "
A look from George at this crisis put her on
her guard ; and she instantly replied, as if eager
to redeem the effects of what she had just said, —
" 'Deed, sir, it's no right to let him continue in
the rule and power o* the property, for nobody
can tell what he may commit."
At this juncture Mr Queerie, perceiving her
wariness, sat down ; and the Reverend Dr Den-
holm, being called by Mr Threeper, stated in
answer to the usual question —
" I acknowledge that I do not think Mr
Walkinshaw entirely of a sound mind • but he
has glaiks ^ and gleams o' sense about him that
1 Glaiks. Rays.
356
THE ENTAIL
mak me very dootful if I could judicially swear
that he canna deport himself wi' sufficient
sagacity."
"But," said the advocate, "did not you your-
self advise Mr George Walkinshaw to institute
these proceedings?'*
"I'll no disown that," replied the doctor; "but
Mr Walter has since then done such a humane
and a Christian duty to his brother's widow and
her two defenceless and portionless bairns that I
canna, in my conscience, think now so lightly of
him as I once did."
Here the jury consulted together; and, after
a short conference, the foreman inquired if Mr
Walkinshaw was in court. On being answered
in the negative, the Sheriff suggested an adjourn-
ment till next day, that he might be brought
forward.
KNU OF VOL. I.
ally swear
sufficient
you your-
institute
tor; ''but
I humane
idow and
•ns that I
lightly of
md, after
ed if Mr
answered
adjourn-
brought