The shipwreck of the third Laird had left an awful impression on the
minds of all the Glengael party, who, immediately after that disaster,
returned to the castle. To Mrs. Eadie it afforded the strongest
confirmation that she had inherited the inspiring mantle of her
maternal race; and her dreams and visions, which happily for herself
were of the most encouraging augury, became more and more frequent, and
her language increased in mystery and metaphor.
‘Death,’ said she, ‘has performed his task--the winds of heaven and
the ocean waves have obeyed the mandate, and the moon has verified her
influence on the destinies of men. But the volume, with the brazen
clasps, has not yet been opened--the chronicled wisdom of ages has not
yet been unfolded--Antiquity and Learning are still silent in their
niches, and their faces veiled.’
It was of no avail to argue with her, even in her soberest moods,
against the fatal consequences of yielding so entirely to the
somnambulism of her malady. Her friends listened to her with a solemn
compassion, and only hoped that, in the course of the summer, some
improvement might take place in her health, and allay that extreme
occasional excitement of her nervous system which produced such
mournful effects on a mind of rare and splendid endowments. In the
hopes of this favourable change, it was agreed, when Mr. Frazer was
called to Edinburgh on professional business, as we have already
mentioned, that the family should, on her account, remain till late in
the year at Glengael.
Meanwhile Walkinshaw and French Frazer were proceeding with their
recruiting; and it was soon evident to the whole party that the latter
had attached himself in a particular manner to Mary. Mrs. Eadie, if not
the first who observed it, was the first who spoke of it; but, instead
of using that sort of strain which ladies of a certain age commonly
employ on such affairs, she boded of bridal banquets in the loftiest
poetry of her prophetical phraseology. The fortunes of Walkinshaw and
Ellen were lost sight of in the mystical presages of this new theme,
till the letters arrived from Mr. Frazer, announcing the discovery of
the provisions in the deed of entail, and requesting his young friend
to come immediately to Edinburgh. ‘The clasped book of antiquity,’ said
Mrs. Eadie, ‘is now open. Who shall dispute the oracles of fate?’
But with all the perspicuity of her second sight, she saw nothing of
what was passing at Kittlestonheugh on the same afternoon in which
these letters reached the castle.
Mr. Pilledge, it will be recollected, immediately after his interview
with the Leddy, proceeded in a post-chaise to see Milrookit; and, as he
was not embarrassed with much professional diffidence, the purpose of
his visit was soon explained. The consternation with which Walky heard
of the discovery will be easier imagined than described; but something
like a ray of hope and pleasure glimmered in the prospect that Pilledge
held out of being able either to break the entail, or to procrastinate
the contest to an indefinite period at an expence of less than half the
rental of the property.
While they were thus engaged in discussing the subject, and Milrookit
was entering as cordially into the views of the Edinburgh writer, as
could on so short a notice be reasonably expected, Mr. Pitwinnoch was
announced. The instinct of birds of a feather, as the proverb says, had
often before brought him into contact with Pilledge, and a few words of
explanation enabled the triumvirate to understand the feelings of each
other thoroughly.
‘But,’ said Pitwinnoch, ‘I am instructed to take immediate steps, to
establish the rights of the heir of entail.’
‘So much the better,’ replied Pilledge; ‘the business could not be
in abler hands. You can act for your client in the most satisfactory
manner, and as Mr. Milrookit will authorize me to proceed for him, it
will be hard if we cannot make a tough pull.’
Mr. Pitwinnoch thought so too, and then amused them with a laughable
account of the instructions he had received from the Leddy, to demand
the surrender of the estate, and the acknowledgment of the heir, in
the course of the following day. Pilledge, in like manner, recounted,
in his dry and pawkie style, the interview which he had himself with
the same ingenious and redoubtable matron; and that nothing might be
wanting to the enjoyment of their jokes and funny recitals, Milrookit
ordered in wine, and they were all as jocose as possible, when the
servant brought a letter--it was from Mr. Whitteret, written at the
suggestion of Mr. Frazer, to whom he had, immediately after parting
from Pilledge in the Register Office, communicated the discovery. It
simply announced, that steps were taken to serve Walkinshaw heir to the
estate, and suggested on account of the relationship of the parties,
that it might be as well to obviate, by an admission of the claim,
the necessity of any exposure, or of the institution of unpleasant
proceedings, for the fraud that had been practised.
Milrookit trembled as he read,--Pitwinnoch looked aghast, for he
perceived that his own conduct in the transaction might be sifted; and
Pilledge, foreseeing there would be no use for him, quietly took his
hat and slipped away, leaving them to their own meditations.
‘This is a dreadful calamity,’ were the first words that Milrookit
uttered, after a silence of several minutes.
‘It is a most unlucky discovery,’ said Pitwinnoch.
‘And this threat of exposure,’ responded his client.
‘And my character brought into peril!’ exclaimed the lawyer.
‘Had you not rashly advised me,’ said Milrookit, ‘I should never for a
moment have thought of retaining the property.’
‘Both your father and yourself, Sir,’ retorted the lawyer, ‘thought
if it could be done, it ought; I but did my duty as your lawyer, in
recommending what you so evidently wished.’
‘That is not the fact, Sir,’ replied Milrookit, sharply, and the
conversation proceeded to become more abrupt and vehement, till the
anger of high words assumed the form of action, and the lawyer and his
client rushed like two bull-dogs on each other. At that crisis, the
door was suddenly opened, and the old Leddy looking in, said,--
‘Shake him weel, Mr. Pitwinnoch, and if he’ll no conform, I redde ye
gar him conform.’
The rage of the combatants was instantly extinguished, and they stood
pale and confounded, trembling in every limb.
It had happened, after the Leddy returned home from Pitwinnoch’s,
that Robina called, in the carriage, to effect, if possible, a
reconciliation with her, which, for reasons we need not mention,
her husband had engaged her that afternoon to do, and she had, in
consequence, brought her, in the spirit of friendship, as she imagined,
out to Kittlestonheugh. The Leddy, however, prided herself on being
almost as dexterous a diplomatician as she was learned in the law, and
she affected to receive her grand-daughter in the spirit of a total
oblivion of all injuries.
‘Ye ken, Beenie, my dear,’ said she, ‘that I’m an aged person, and for
a’ the few and evil days I hae before me in this howling wilderness,
it’s vera natural that I should like to make a conciliation wi’
my grandchilder, who, I hope, will a’ live in comfort wi’ one
another--every one getting his own right, for it’s a sore thing to go
to law, although I hae some reason to know that there are folks in
our family that ken mair o’ the nine points than they let wit--so I’m
cordial glad to see you, Beenie, and I take it so kind, that if ye’ll
gie me a hurl in the carriage, and send me hame at night, I’ll no
object to gang wi’ you and speer for your gudeman, for whom I hae a’
manner o’ respek, even though he was a thought unreasonable anent my
charge o’ moderation for the bed and board.’
But the truth is, that the Leddy, from the moment Robina entered the
room, was seized with the thirst of curiosity to know how Milrookit
would receive the claim, and had, in this eccentric manner, contrived
to get herself taken to the scene of action.