The Sabbath morning 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 partook 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, ay 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. Hows’ever, I fancy dogs are like men--leavened, as Mr.
Kilfuddy says, wi’ the leaven of an ungrateful 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 banes for’t.’
‘Wilt t’ou ne’er devaul’ wi’ thy havering tongue? I’m sure the dumb
brute, in favouring Charlie, showed mair sense than his mother, poor
fellow.’
‘Aye, aye, gudeman, so ye say; but every body knows your most unnatural
partiality.’
‘Thy tongue, woman,’ exclaimed her husband, ‘gangs like the
clatter-bane 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 forward, and beheld, with
some experience of astonishment, 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 damn’d if I do ony sic thing,’ growled the old man, with a
fierceness of emphasis that betrayed apprehension and alarm, while it
at the same time 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 oure to see you, and to speak anent yon
thing.’
‘Hae ye got the papers made out?’
‘Surely--it can never be your serious intent--I would fain hope--nay,
really, Mr. Walkinshaw, ye maunna think o’t.’
‘Hoot, toot, toot; I thought ye had mair sense, Mr. Keelevin. But I’m
sorry we canna gae back wi’ you, for we’re just sae far in the road to
see Charlie and his lady landless.’
‘’Deed are we,’ added Mrs. Walkinshaw; ‘and ye’ll no guess what the
gudeman has in his pouch to gie them for hansel 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 the 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 testament: I redde ye, an he be, see that I’m no
neglekit; and dinna let him do an injustice to the lave 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 need na be fear’t, Mrs. Walkinshaw, I’ll no wrang either you or any
one of the family;’ and he added, looking towards her husband, ‘if I
can help it.’
‘Na, thanks be an’ praise, as I understand the law, that’s no in your
power; for I’m secured wi’ a jointure on the Grippy by my marriage
articles; and my father, in his testament, ordained me to hae a
hundred a year out of the barming o’ his lying money; the whilk, as
I have myself counted, brings in to the gudeman, frae the wadset
that he has on the Kilmarkeckle estate, full mair than a hundred and
twenty-seven pounds; so I would wis both you and him to ken, that I’m
no in your reverence; and likewise, 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 the entail was, in a
great measure, confirmed; so that Mr. Keelevin, instead of pressing the
remonstrance which he had come on purpose from Glasgow that morning to
urge, marvelled exceedingly within himself at the untold wealth of his
client.
In the meantime, Grippy and his Leddy continued 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 circumstance of George, the youngest son, being
preferred in the limitations of the entail to his eldest brother. But
even this admitted of something 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 honest
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. Walkinshaw, 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
mentioned, he was wont to carry his ellwand when a pedlar.