Grippy passed the interval between the visit and the day appointed
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 plot in
front of which the old man was standing, with 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
inquiring, with more kindness than the occasion required, for the
health of his young wife. Such unusual cordiality tended to confirm
the delusion which the gift of the bank-bill on Sunday had inspired;
but the paroxysm of affection produced by the effort to disguise the
sense which the old man suffered of the irreparable wrong he was so
doggedly resolved to commit, soon went off; and, in the midst of his
congratulations, conscience smote him with such confusion, that he
was obliged to turn away, to conceal the embarrassment which betrayed
the insincerity of the warmth he had so well assumed. Poor Charles,
however, was prevented from observing the change in his manner and
countenance, by Walter appearing at the door in his Sunday clothes,
followed by his mother, with his best hat in her hand, which she was
smoothing at the same time with the tail of her apron.
‘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 ay in the
Trongate on Wednesday; and mind what I hae been telling you, no to put
your hand to pen and ink 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 hansel 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’ your bonny bride, that
your mother’s already forgotten?’
He felt the reproof, and immediately turned and went back to make some
apology, but she prevented him by saying,--
‘See that this is no a Jacob and Esau business, Charlie, and that ye
dinna wrang poor Watty; for he’s an easy good-natured 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, Watty, ye gumshionless
cuif as ever father was plagued wi’; and Charlie, my lad, let us gang
thegither, the haverel will follow; for if it has na the colley-dog’s
sense, it has something like its instinct.’
And so saying, he stepped on hastily towards the gate, swinging his
staff in his right hand, and walking faster and more erectly than he
was wont.
The two sons, seeing the pace at which their father was going forward,
parted from their mother and followed him, Charles laughing and jeering
at the beau which Walter had made of himself.
During the journey the old man kept aloof from them, turning
occasionally round to rebuke their mirth, for there was something in
the freedom and gaiety of Charles’s laugh that reproached his spirit,
and the folly of Walter was never so disagreeable 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
requested 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
power in the law o’ Scotland to undo it. I would, therefore, fain hope
ye’re no doing this out of any motive or feeling of resentment for the
thoughtless 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 catechize me. Ye’re, as I
would say, but the pen in this matter, and the right or the wrong o’t’s
a’ my ain. I would, therefore, counsel you, noo that the papers are
ready, that they should be implemented, and for that purpose, I hae
brought my twa sons to be the witnesses themselves to the act and deed.’
Mr. Keelevin held up his hands, and, starting back, gave a deep sigh as
he said,--‘It’s no possible that Charlie can be consenting to his own
disinheritance, or he’s as daft as his brother.’
‘Consenting here, or consenting there, Mr. Keelevin,’ replied the
father, ‘ye’ll just bring in the papers and read them o’er to me; ye
need na fash to ca’ ben the lads, for that might breed strife atween
them.’
‘Na! as sure’s death, Mr. Walkinshaw,’ exclaimed the honest writer,
with a warmth and simplicity rather obsolete among his professional
brethren now-a-days, however much they may have been distinguished for
those qualities in the innocent golden age; ‘Na! as sure’s death, Mr.
Walkinshaw, this is mair than I hae the conscience to do; the lads are
parties to the transaction, by their reversionary interest, and it is
but right and proper they should know what they are about.’
‘Mr. Keelevin,’ cried the Laird, peevishly, ‘ye’re surely growing
doited. It would be an unco-like thing if witnesses to our wills and
testaments had a right to ken what we bequeathe. Please God, neither
Charlie nor Watty sall be ony the wiser o’ this day’s purpose, as lang
as the breath’s in my body.’
‘Weel, Mr. Walkinshaw,’ replied the lawyer, ‘ye’ll 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’ll 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 this 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, he called them in, with
a sharp and peevish accent, and signed the deeds in their presence.
Charles took the pen from his father, and also at once signed as
witness, while Mr. Keelevin looked the 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; ‘wilt t’ou no do as t’ou’s
bidden?’
‘I’ll do ony other thing ye like, but I’ll no sign that drum-head
paper, without an advantage: ye would na get Mr. Keelevin to do the
like o’t without payment; and what for should ye get me? Have na 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 interpreted the
advantage to which his mother had alluded.
‘Weel, weel,’ said his father, ‘ha’d thy tongue, and t’ou sall 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.