After 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 recognized in Mrs. Gorbals
one of the former visitors at Kittlestonheugh. The figure of Maudge
herself 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 gudedochter. She was a bonny bodie; but frae the time
o’ the sore news, she croynt awa, and her life gied 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,--
‘Ist t’ou ay in Kittlestonheugh’s service, and what’s come o’ him, sin’
his lan’ was roupit?’
Maudge replied respectfully, and with the tear in her eye, that the
Laird was dead.
‘Dead!’ exclaimed Mrs. Gorbals, ‘that’s very extraordinare. I doubt he
was ill off at his latter end. Whar did he die, poor man?’
‘We were obligated,’ said Maudge, somewhat comforted by the
compassionate accent of the lady, ‘to come intil Glasgow, where he
fell into a decay o’ nature.’ And she added, with a sigh that was
almost a sob, ‘’Deed, it’s vera true, he died in a sare 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 intended 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 take compassion 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 father’s
side, and blood’s thicker than water ony day.’
Generosity is in some degree one of the necessary qualifications of a
Glasgow magistrate, and Provost Gorbals being as well endowed with it
as any of his 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, he said affectionately,--
‘Really it was vera thoughtless o’ me, Liezy, my dear; but ye ken I
have na 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 of Providence,’ was the humble answer of honest
Maudge, ‘and a garret-room in John Sinclair’s lan’. 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 gi’e him: a young appetite’s a
growing evil in the poor’s aught.’
The Provost and his wife looked kindly at each other, and the latter
added,--
‘Gudeman, ye maun do something for them. It’ll no fare the waur wi’ our
basket and our store.’
And Maudge was in consequence requested to bring Claud with her that
evening to the Provost’s House in the Bridgegate. ‘I think,’ added
Mrs. Gorbals, ‘that our Hughoc’s auld claes will just do for him; and
Maudge, keep a good heart, we’ll no let thee want. I won’er t’ou did na
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 hae begget on my own account; and how
could I think o’ disgracing the family? Any help that the Lord may
dispose your hearts to gi’e, I’ll accept wi’ great thankfulness, but an
almous is what I hope He’ll ne’er put it upon me 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 business, but, dying suddenly, his circumstances
were discovered to be less flourishing than the world had imagined, and
his widow found herself constrained to abridge her wonted liberality.
Maudge, however, wrestled with poverty as well as she could, till Claud
had attained his eleventh year, when she thought he was of a sufficient
capacity to do something 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 promised, but advised her to make application first to
his relation, Miss Christiana Heritage.
‘She’s in a bien circumstance,’ said Mrs. Gorbals, ‘for her father,
auld Windywa’s, left her weel on to five hundred pounds, and her
cousin, Lord Killycrankie, ane of the fifteen that ay staid in our
house when he rode the Circuit, being heir of entail to her father,
alloos her the use of the house, so that she’s in a way to do muckle
for the laddie, if her heart were so inclined.’
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.