On the same evening on which George and his family visited Mrs. Charles
at Camrachle, and while she was sitting in the manse parlour, Mrs.
Eadie received a letter by the post. It was from her cousin Frazer,
who, as heir-male of Frazer of Glengael, her father’s house, would,
but for the forfeiture, have been his successor, and it was written
to inform her, that, among other forfeited properties, the Glengael
estate was to be soon publicly sold, and that he was making interest,
according to the custom of the time, and the bearing in the minds of
the Scottish gentry in general towards the unfortunate adherents of the
Stuarts, to obtain a private preference at the sale; also begging that
she would come to Edinburgh and assist him in the business, some of
their mutual friends and relations having thought that, perhaps, she
might herself think of concerting the means to make the purchase.
At one time, undoubtedly, the hereditary affections of Mrs. Eadie
would have prompted her to have made the attempt; but the loss of her
children extinguished all the desire she had ever cherished on the
subject, and left her only the wish that her kinsman might succeed.
Nevertheless, she was too deeply under the influence of the clannish
sentiments peculiar to the Highlanders, not to feel that a compliance
with Frazer’s request was a duty. Accordingly, as soon as she read the
letter, she handed it to her husband, at the same time saying,--
‘I am glad that this has happened when we are about to lose for a time
the society of Mrs. Walkinshaw. We shall set out for Edinburgh on
Monday, the day she leaves this, and perhaps we may be able to return
about the time she expects to be back. For I feel,’ she added, turning
towards her, ‘that your company has become an essential ingredient to
our happiness.’
Mr. Eadie was so much surprised at the decision with which his wife
spoke, and the firmness with which she proposed going to Edinburgh,
without reference to what he might be inclined to do, that instead of
reading the letter, he looked at her anxiously for a moment, perhaps
recollecting the unpleasant incident of their former visit to the
metropolis, and said, ‘What has occurred?’
‘Glengael is to be sold,’ she replied, ‘and my cousin, Frazer, is using
all the influence he can to prevent any one from bidding against him.
Kindness towards me deters some of our mutual friends from giving him
their assistance; and he wishes my presence in Edinburgh to remove
their scruples, and otherwise to help him.’
‘You can do that as well by letter as in person,’ said the minister,
opening the letter; ‘for, indeed, this year we cannot so well afford
the expences of such a journey.’
‘The honour of my father’s house is concerned in this business,’
replied the lady, calmly but proudly; ‘and there is no immediate duty
to interfere with what I owe to my family as the daughter of Glengael.’
Mrs. Walkinshaw had, from her first interview, admired the august
presence and lofty sentiments of Mrs. Eadie; but nothing had before
occurred to afford her even a glimpse of her dormant pride and sleeping
energies, the sinews of a spirit capable of heroic and masculine
effort; and she felt for a moment awed by the incidental disclosure
of a power and resolution, that she had never once imagined to exist
beneath the calm and equable sensibility which constituted the general
tenor of her friend’s character.
When the minister had read the letter, he again expressed his opinion
that it was unnecessary to go to Edinburgh; but Mrs. Eadie, without
entering into any observation on his argument, said,--
‘On second thoughts, it may not be necessary for you to go--but I
must. I am summoned by my kinsman; and it is not for me to question
the propriety of what he asks, but only to obey. It is the cause of my
father’s house.’
The minister smiled at her determination, and said, ‘I suppose there is
nothing else for me but also to obey. I do not, however, recollect who
this Frazer is--Was he out with your father in the Forty-five?’
‘No; but his father was,’ replied Mrs. Eadie, ‘and was likewise
executed at Carlisle. He, himself, was bred to the bar, and is an
advocate in Edinburgh.’ And, turning suddenly round to Mrs. Walkinshaw,
she added solemnly, ‘There is something in this--There is some
mysterious link between the fortunes of your family and mine. It has
brought your brother-in-law here to-day, as if a new era were begun to
you, and also this letter of auspicious omen to the blood of Glengael.’
Mr. Eadie laughingly remarked, ‘That he had not for a long time heard
from her such a burst of Highland lore.’
But Mrs. Walkinshaw was so affected by the solemnity with which it had
been expressed, that she inadvertently said, ‘I hope in Heaven it may
be so.’
‘I am persuaded it is,’ rejoined Mrs. Eadie, still serious; and
emphatically taking her by the hand, she said, ‘The minister dislikes
what he calls my Highland freats, and believes they have their source
in some dark remnants of pagan superstition; on that account, I abstain
from speaking of many things that I see, the signs and forecoming
shadows of events--nevertheless, my faith in them is none shaken,
for the spirit has more faculties than the five senses, by which,
among other things, the heart is taught to love or hate, it knows not
wherefore--Mark, therefore, my words, and bear them in remembrance--for
this day the fortunes of Glengael are mingled with those of your
house.--The lights of both have been long set; but the time is coming,
when they shall again shine in their brightness.’
‘I should be incredulous no more,’ replied the minister, ‘if you could
persuade her brother-in-law, Mr. George Walkinshaw, to help Frazer with
a loan towards the sum required for the purchase of Glengael.’
Perceiving, however, that he was treading too closely on a tender
point, he turned the conversation, and nothing more particular occurred
that evening. The interval between then and Monday was occupied by the
two families in little preparations for their respective journeys; Mr.
Eadie, notwithstanding the pecuniary inconvenience, having agreed to
accompany his wife.
In the meantime, George, for some reason best known to himself, it
would appear, had resolved to make the visit of so many connexions a
festival; for, on the day after he had been at Camrachle, he wrote
to his brother-in-law, the Laird of Dirdumwhamle, to join the party
with Mrs. Milrookit, and to bring their son with them,--a circumstance
which, when he mentioned it to his mother, only served to make her
suspect that more was meant than met either the eye or ear in such
extraordinary kindness; and the consequence was, that she secretly
resolved to take the advice of Mr. Keelevin, as to how she ought to
conduct herself; for, from the time of his warsle, as she called it,
with Pitwinnoch for the aliment, he had regained her good opinion. She
had also another motive for being desirous of conferring with him, no
less than a laudable wish to have her will made, especially as the
worthy lawyer, now far declined into the vale of years, had been for
some time in ill health, and unable to give regular attendance to his
clients at the office: ‘symptoms,’ as the Leddy said when she heard it
‘that he felt the cauld hand o’ Death muddling about the root o’ life,
and a warning to a’ that wanted to profit by his skill, no to slumber
and sleep like the foolish virgins, that aloo’t their cruises to burn
out, and were wakened to desperation, when the shout got up that the
bridegroom and the musickers were coming.’
But the worthy lawyer, when she called, was in no condition to attend
any longer to worldly concerns,--a circumstance which she greatly
deplored, as she mentioned it to her son George, who, however, was far
from sympathizing with her anxiety; on the contrary, the news, perhaps,
afforded him particular satisfaction. For he was desirous that the
world should continue to believe his elder brother had been entirely
disinherited, and Mr. Keelevin was the only person that he thought
likely to set the heirs in that respect right.