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| author | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-08-16 02:10:48 -0700 |
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| committer | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-08-16 02:10:48 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f57f44 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text +*.htm text +*.html text +*.png binary +*.jpg binary +*.svg text +*.pdf binary +*.bmp binary +*.zip binary +*.midi binary +*.mp3 binary diff --git a/79373-0.txt b/79373-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cfebfbf --- /dev/null +++ b/79373-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5366 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79373 *** + + + + + SAINT MUNGO’S CITY + + A Novel + + BY SARAH TYTLER + + AUTHOR OF ‘THE BRIDE’S PASS,’ ‘WHAT SHE CAME THROUGH,’ + ‘BEAUTY AND THE BEAST,’ ETC. + + [Illustration: colophon] + + IN THREE VOLUMES + VOL. III. + + + London + CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY + 1884 + + [_All rights reserved_] + + + + + CONTENTS OF VOL. III. + + +CHAPTER PAGE + +XXVII. THE MISS MACKINNONS’ HARMONIOUS +LITTLE ARRANGEMENT 1 + +XXVIII. THE OFFICERS OF JUSTICE IN ST. +MUNGO’S SQUARE--CLARIBEL DRYSDALE +STANDS BY HER COLOURS 19 + +XXIX. ‘LOVE WILL VENTURE IN WHERE +WISDOM AINCE HAS BEEN’ 40 + +XXX. A HORRIBLE SUSPICION ASSAILS AULD +TAM 58 + +XXXI. THE SUSPICION BECOMES A CERTAINTY 84 + +XXXII. IN THE BALANCE 111 + +XXXIII. A DROWNING MAN’S STRAWS 128 + +XXXIV. AULD TAM ‘FEY’ 150 + +XXXV. SIR HUGO LAYS HIMSELF AND WILLOUGHBY +COURT AT YOUNG EPPIE’S +FEET 180 + +XXXVI. THE SEAL TO SIR HUGO’S SUIT 201 + +XXXVII. A CHARMED SAIL 216 + +XXXVIII. THE LAST OF RORY OF THE SHELTIES--DR. +PETER ON THE SCENT 248 + +XXXIX. THE SACRIFICE 263 + +XL. A NEW CALCULATION 292 + +XLI. ATHOLE MURRAY SKETCHES A MODERN +FUGGEREI--THE MISS MACKINNONS’ +ULTIMATUM 317 + + + + +SAINT MUNGO’S CITY. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +THE MISS MACKINNONS’ HARMONIOUS LITTLE ARRANGEMENT. + + +To begin with, something closed the Miss Mackinnons’ lips on this point, +and not a word was said among them of the defrauding of Miss Mackinnon +and Miss Janet to enrich Miss Bethia, sitting with downcast eyes, +wringing the hands hidden in her lap. + +At last Miss Janet said, not so much bitterly as with forced gaiety: + +‘You are up in the buckle [exalted], Betheye--an heiress; you’ll no be +speaking to me and Meye.’ + +‘Oh, Janet!’ burst out Miss Bethia, breaking down and sobbing with +mingled pain and shame. ‘Do you think I would touch the money? I’ll gie +it back, every penny, to you and Meye, the moment I’ve got it into my +fingers.’ + +‘But there’s twa and whiles three at a bargain-making,’ said Miss Janet, +with wounded pride in her voice. ‘Do you think we would tak’ from +anither--though she happened to be our sister--what was ours, but had +been wulled awa’ from us?’ + +‘But that would be cruel!’ protested Miss Bethia, in still greater +distress. ‘How could I help it? An ill-kinded man! Gude guide us!’ +pausing in horror; ‘to think that I should speak ill of him, and him +hardly in the mools. But I never set een on him, never.’ + +‘You gowk, what does that signify?’ Miss Janet was provoked into +treating the heiress with little courtesy. + +‘What ails her?’ cried Miss Mackinnon wrathfully. ‘Is she pretendin’ to +greet for the man, now that he has left her the maist of his money? I +cannot stand such hypocrisy.’ + +Miss Bethia wept on, regardless of the good fortune, which was +misfortune to her, and equally unrestrained by the manner in which her +sorrow was misunderstood. + +‘What can I do?’ she lamented. ‘I never wanted your shares; I never +thocht money would come between me and you and Meye.’ + +Miss Janet was a little softened. + +‘You can do nothing--as long as the paper stands, the money’s yours. But +we’re no blaming you, save for being silly--and we’ll tak’ the will for +the deed.’ + +‘Oh, thank you! thank you, Janet!’ said Miss Bethia gratefully. ‘If only +Meye and you will not tak’ me for a traitor and hypocrite--and me never +to have seen the man!--I’ll no mind so muckle. But is there no way to +gie back the money, and share and share alike as we should have done? +Why can I not do as I like with my ain, as he did?’ + +‘You’re fast enough with your ain,’ said Miss Janet, in fresh +displeasure. ‘It has not been yours mair than an hour. I’ll tell you +what, Betheye,’ the speaker relapsed into a sardonic mood, ‘it’s a’ very +weel to say what you’ll do or not do the noo; but it’s as likely as not +that the word o’ the sillar will bring some fair-spoken blackguard of a +man after you. You’ll marry him fast; then Meye and me will be left in +the lurch, and he’ll help you to spend the money that should have been +ours.’ + +‘Never!’ declared Miss Bethia; and she failed to simper as of old, but a +dull-red rose in her lined face and spread over it. She had, as she +would have said, given up all thought of a man for many a day; but +mercenary as were the notions attributed to this man, the sudden revival +of the vision brought a shy, guilty sense of gratification, which the +next moment covered poor Miss Bethia with confusion and remorse. Would +she sacrifice her sisters even for the best man that ever breathed? ‘I +wonder at you, Janet!’ she said, so vehemently that there was a +suspicion of weakness and fear in the vehemence; ‘an auld maid like me.’ + +‘There’s nae fules like old anes,’ said Miss Janet jauntily; ‘and you’ll +cease to be an auld maid when the scamp has made you a young wife. Ye +ken you’ll be young among the mawtrons, though you’re auld among the +maidens.’ + +‘It’s cruel,’ repeated Miss Bethia, with an ominous intensity of +distress in the kindling fire of temptation. ‘Oh! I wish I had the +horrible money to fling it into the fire, or cast it into Clyde.’ + +‘What good would that do?’ demanded the matter-of-fact Miss Janet, +‘unless you wanted him to loup in and fish it out.’ + +Miss Bethia groaned. + +‘Stop her greetin’,’ broke in Miss Mackinnon, in greater disgust than +before. ‘I canna bide sic false pretences, Betheye; it’s like haudin’ an +ingan [onion] to your een. Hoo can ye try sic a trick upon Janet and +me?’ + +‘I wull greet,’ Miss Bethia suddenly turned upon her sisters; ‘I have +cause to greet. I thocht my ain sisters liked and trusted me, and I was +prood to slave wi’ them and for them; but I find I was mista’en when +they’re ready to misdoubt me, for nae faut o’ mine, and to tant me +because of the wrongdoing of another.’ + +Miss Janet was taken aback by this new attitude of Miss Bethia, and the +feelings reflected on her face were quickly caught up by her elder +sister. They both paused, irresolute what to say next. + +‘We dinna misdoubt you, Betheye,’ said Miss Janet, in a more subdued +tone. ‘But you maun grant this has been a shock as well as a hardship to +us--the younger to be served out of the elders’ portions--the elder to +be dependent on the younger’s generosity, or whatever you like to ca’t.’ + +‘Oh, it is maist abominable!’ admitted Miss Bethia, with all her heart. +‘But it is no generosity--it’s justice which ocht to be done; and surely +I’ll be helped to do’t, though I’ve to get the Queen to back me.’ + +‘It’s an expensive road to the Queen, though her Majesty is very gude +and kind,’ said Miss Janet, not affording any encouragement to the +scheme, but refraining from the strong derision she had been practising. +The next moment she added: ‘I think there may be an easier plan--it has +just flashed upon me--if you’re in earnest, Betheye, as I do not +question.’ + +‘Try me,’ said Miss Bethia, with trembling eagerness. + +‘Weel, I apprehend there’s just this parchment binding you doon--I said, +as long as the paper stands we’ve but to submit. But what is to hinder +us from making awa’ wi’t? The wull concerns nane but oorsel’s and the +servants--that dour, sly jaud of a housekeeper and her man. We are +perfectly agreed, and we can easily settle wi’ servants; we’ll pay them +every bawbee of their legacy, though it’s twice as muckle as it need +have been--and that is all they’ll care for. What need is there to keep +the paper and fash our heads with it? We’ll tear it up, and think nae +mair o’t, while we divide Jean Mackinnon’s money fair among oorsel’s.’ + +‘The very thing,’ said Miss Bethia, with a great sigh of relief and of +lurking regret that the legacy had not been ten thousand or ten hundred. +In that case, even the third fraction of it might have constituted her +an heiress, with all an heiress’s privileges and trials. She might have +been courted, she might have needed to stand firm, to decline to be +wooed, to give her suitors a dignified yet amiable dismissal. There was +glamour in the prospect, but it was not for Miss Bethia. ‘To destroy the +wull,’ she hammered on at Miss Janet’s project, ‘which deals just with +the servants, to whom we can make their legacy gude, while we are fully +agreed on a fresh division of Jean Mackinnon’s money, is so easy and +natural. I wonder it did not occur to us at aince. Let us do it this +minute, Janet, before Mr. Mair or ony of the gentlemen come back.’ Miss +Bethia was opposed to the least delay. ‘Shall I tak’ out the paper and +tear it?’ she cried. + +‘On second thochts, it had better be brunt, and then there will be no +trouble with the fragments,’ said Miss Janet, gratified with having been +the originator of a good idea, and full of importance in putting it into +execution. ‘I believe I have heard,’ continued Miss Janet dogmatically, +‘that, when a wull is brunt in this way, the parties interested stand +round a can’le, and each holds a corner of the dockiment over the lowe, +so as to mak’ sure they’re all consenting to the destruction; then if +any wyte [blame] is incurred, it will fa’ on all alike.’ + +‘But is there ony fear o’ wyte?’ asked Miss Bethia, startled. ‘Maybe, +after a’, we had better wait and ask Mr. Mair.’ + +‘Maybe, after a’, we had better let the wull stand,’ said Miss Janet +scornfully, for the resource hit upon had by this time recommended +itself thoroughly to her. It would restore her own and Miss Mackinnon’s +birthright, by the curl of a flame, if not by the stroke of a pen, and +thus immediately wipe out the insult and loss inflicted upon them. And +the act would prevent any danger of Miss Bethia’s wavering in her +design, or being overborne by the arguments of others. + +Not only was the plan Miss Janet’s, and therefore right in her eyes; she +was proud of it, and sought to keep it in her own possession, and carry +it out independently for herself and her sisters. She enjoyed the notion +of astonishing and discomfiting Mr. Mair by her sharpness and +promptitude. In fact, Miss Janet had got out her head, and was bent on +‘running her own road.’ + +‘You ken I did not mean to let the wull stand,’ said Miss Bethia, hurt, +and reproachful. ‘But you’ll speak to Mr. Mair after. You’ll tell him +what you’ve done with the wull he gave up to you.’ + +‘I’ll speak to Mair when he speaks to me,’ said Miss Janet, full of +refractoriness. ‘What has he, ony mair than his clerk, to do with Fenton +of Strathdivie’s wull, that was made on our account? Mair drew it up, as +ony ither writer micht have done; but it was not his wull, or yours +either, Betheye, as ane micht think, to hear ye speak. You’ve sune +learnt to tak’ a great deal upon you. You seem to forget, because you’ve +been preferred without reason, that we’re your elders, and Meye’s the +head of the hoose.’ + +‘I dinna forget,’ said Miss Bethia, with a full heart. + +Miss Janet went on harshly: + +‘If you’re in earnest in makin’ reparation by being willin’ to join Meye +and me, in what we’ve had cause to suppose you had fixed to do, ye’ll +say no more about it.’ + +Miss Bethia said no more. + +When it was put to Miss Mackinnon whether she would support her sisters +in their spirited measure, she replied with hoarse emphasis, +‘Certainly!’ and looked about for a matchbox. + +There was a wax taper by the inkstand, and Miss Janet was in such a +hurry that she would not wait to ring for a candle, though it seemed +doubtful at the first glance whether the little light could effectually +consume the two or three broad-margined, widely-written, crackling pages +of which the will was composed. + +‘We’ll tak’ it leaf by leaf,’ said Miss Janet methodically. ‘There are +only three o’ us; but I’ll haud twa corners, while you and Meye can tak’ +the other twa, ane each.’ + +The process was a slow one. Miss Janet and Miss Mackinnon stood +unflinchingly, braving the little wreaths of smoke which seemed to rise +out of all proportion to the performance, even daring the yellow tongues +of flame that darted across the paper, and threatened the bony fingers. + +Miss Bethia shook fitfully, disturbing the balance of the arrangement, +and shrank nervously from the burning, as if it had been Archie Fenton +putting forth fiery fingers to execute vengeance upon her for her +contemptuous treatment of his will. + +The whole fantastic incident--witnessed under the solemn splendour of a +moorland sunset, which shone in through a western window; the three big, +gaunt, hard-featured old women, in more or less fixed theatrically +tragic attitudes, the right hand extended, grasping the sheet of paper; +Miss Janet’s dauntless, impassive face; Miss Mackinnon’s glittering, +restless eyes, lit up by an imprisoned spirit; Miss Bethia’s features +working with anxiety and dread; the shrivelling, blackening paper; the +jets of flame, the smoke--all bore a marvellous, grotesque resemblance +to the witches’ incantations of the Middle Ages. Fenton of Strathdivie’s +will might have been one of those bonds, written in letters of blood, +that sold souls to the foul fiend, and could no more be burnt in fire, +which was their natural element, than the devil could perish in his own +hell. + +Towards the close of the strange proceeding there was a slight creaking +of the door and rustling of something behind it, which caused Miss +Bethia to look round in fresh terror; but the trifling noise ceased +almost instantly. The charred fragments of the will dropped on the +floor, and were carefully collected by Miss Janet in the fire-shovel and +deposited in the empty grate. Another match was lit and applied to them, +and she was soon warranted in the triumphant announcement: + +‘There’s naethin’ left but white aiss [ashes], let Mair or wha like mak’ +what they can oot o’t. We’ve snapped our fingers at Fenton o’ +Strathdivie, in what was his ain hoose, too.’ + +‘Oh! wheesht, Janet, wheesht!’ implored the appalled Miss Bethia. + +But Miss Janet did not heed her younger sister. + +‘We’re free to do what we like wi’ our ain,’ she proclaimed exultingly. + +Indeed, the Miss Mackinnons were not disturbed in their harmonious +little arrangement, either on that night or before their departure next +morning. + +Mr. Mair, in his character of host, sat later over the funeral dinner +than was prudent, with regard to catching the train by which he could +reach that night the bosom of his family, in the market-town where he +practised as a solicitor. He left in such a hurry that he declined a +parting interview with Mrs. Todd, and contented himself with sending his +clerk to fetch the desk from the study, and take leave for him of the +Miss Mackinnons. Indeed, Mr. Mair had not been very favourably impressed +by the ladies. He considered rightly that he had done all in his power +for their comfort, and as a poor return, he had been forced to bear a +considerable amount of rudeness from Miss Janet. He was a long-suffering +man, but endurance has its limits. + +The ladies, on their part, had not thought of leaving Strathdivie the +very day after the funeral, but had rather meditated an indefinite +stay--a sort of taking possession till their claims were settled, with +the deliberate investigation of that ‘stoucherie’ [collection of goods +in an old family house], all or part of which they had fondly hoped +would have fallen to their share. But the sisters were compelled to +understand that the place and everything it contained belonged to the +late owner’s New Zealand cousins, among whose property the women had no +excuse for prowling, however natural their regretful curiosity. At the +same time they had every reason to distrust any prolonged civilities +from Mrs. Todd, the housekeeper, who was again mistress of the +situation, having been appointed by the lawyer to continue in her former +place till the term should bring a new tenant to the old house. + +And Miss Janet, in spite of her supreme confidence in her own powers, +was a little doubtful what step to take next in the acquirement of the +money, the division of which she had already altered in a summary +fashion. It might be necessary for the sisters again to have that +respectable family adjunct--a man of business; and if so, the sooner +they applied to him the better on all these counts. Miss Janet and Miss +Mackinnon filled Miss Bethia’s heart with thankfulness, by deciding to +quit Strathdivie the following forenoon. + +But another person was before the Miss Mackinnons. Mrs. Todd, in her new +mourning, accompanied by her canny lout of a husband, in his Sunday +suit, had slipped out of the house, leaving a deputy in charge, by break +of day. Ten minutes afterwards, the late Fenton of Strathdivie’s +confidential servant might have been seen at the little railway station, +starting on a journey by the early Parliamentary train. + +In the course of the day, Mr. Mair appeared again on the scene--not +coming quietly by train this time, but driving in hot haste across the +country, arriving at Strathdivie to find the birds flown, if he came in +search of the Miss Mackinnons, who had departed for Glasgow a quarter +of an hour before. The lawyer was in an excited, disturbed frame of mind +when he heard that the ladies were gone. He turned the head of his +reeking horse without giving it either rest or refreshment, saying to +himself: + +‘There is nothing for it but an application to the fiscal; and I doubt +if I’ll come out clear in the business. I should not have been so +careless; but who would have thought the old beldames were capable of +such a trick? But, good Heavens! to think what will be the upshot, and +how the wretched old women will be served for their desperate deed!’ + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + THE OFFICERS OF JUSTICE IN ST. MUNGO’S SQUARE--CLARIBEL DRYSDALE + STANDS BY HER COLOURS. + + +The Miss Mackinnons, arriving at home towards the close of the day, +required more than the following night’s rest to restore them to their +normal condition. They felt as if they had gone on a long and perilous +expedition, and encountered many exciting adventures. The journey had +not been altogether fruitless, and there was at the end of it that happy +restoration to the grey old house in St. Mungo’s Square, which caused +Miss Bethia to cry out fondly, ‘Eh! hame is kindly,’ and Miss Janet to +sniff the thick air as if it were her own special property. She gloried +in the reek. Still, it could not be expected that the travellers would +at once master the shocks and fatigue of so unusual an experience. The +ladies were not in trim for visitors, which was unfortunate, since they +had for their share that day, not only the Lieutenant, who had started +from Oban on hearing the news of Fenton of Strathdivie’s death, but, of +all people in the world, Claribel Drysdale. + +Clary had come up to town from Lochgoilhead, unattended by any other +member of the family except young Tam, on his way to his office. She had +meant to do a little shopping, remain for the night in the house of +friends of the Drysdales, and sail back again next day. She had taken it +into her head, for some reasons known only to herself, to call, for the +first time in her life, on the Miss Mackinnons, knowing nothing of their +recent absence, or, for that matter, of Fenton of Strathdivie, and +believing Eneas Mackinnon to be still with the Semples at Oban. Could +it be that Clary, so calm and cool and sufficient for herself in all +circumstances, had simply pined for her absent lover, who was not to be +thought of as a husband for her, and, yearning to have tidings of him, +had suddenly conceived the idea of calling on his old grand-aunts, the +indigent gentlewomen who were her father’s _protégées_? + +Anyhow, there was Claribel behaving herself very graciously, looking a +wonderful specimen of youth and beauty, in an expensively quiet and +suitable walking-dress; a hat with hardly any trimming, from Paris; +sober gloves and boots, also from Paris; a little exquisite embroidery +on the collar and cuffs of her gown. She formed a striking figure among +the others in the dull, dingy room, and won golden opinions from its +usual occupants. Yet one would have thought that Claribel, with her +natural and acquired elegance, was too well regulated a person in +everything, had too high and at the same time too conventional a +standard to meet the Miss Mackinnons’ views; that she would not be +smart or bouncing, or, on the other hand, deferential enough for those +her seniors. However, they were paying her homage not merely with +ulterior motives on their grand-nephew’s account, or because of some +regard for what her father, Tam Drysdale, had done for them first and +last. It was principally because this well-assured, courteous, composed +example of maidenhood--maidenhood among the upstart, wealthy, +influential ‘dirt’ of modern trade, that Miss Janet was wont to +despise--took the old lady by surprise--took away her breath in some +occult manner, and rendered her nearly subdued, and almost well-bred. + +There was Eneas, by far the most uncomfortable of the party, in some +degree consoled by what in its turn amazed him--that is to say, the +unexpectedly commonplace civility of his kinswomen. + +Neither could the Lieutenant altogether resist a throb of what he knew, +at the bottom of his heart, to be idiotic hope occasioned by Claribel’s +voluntary uninvited presence in St. Mungo’s Square--Claribel with her +innate refinement and dignity, sitting apparently happy, and at her +ease, among his queer, plain old aunts. Was it for his sake? Could it be +for his sake? Yet, if it were so, how could he--penniless, without +the most distant prospect of rising to any purpose in his +profession--propose to accept gratefully, and repay richly, such rare +generous devotion? + +A ring at the door-bell--not loud, but prolonged, as if delivered from +weighty considerations--startled the party, and Miss Bethia vanished to +perform the office of the servant who had never been replaced. + +‘Tradesmen are very forward and pushing for orders,’ remarked Miss +Janet. ‘Does not your mammaw find it so, Miss Drysdale?’ + +‘Well, we’re rather out of the way of shop-boys in the country; and my +mother is so fond of marketing when she gets the opportunity, that she +never complains,’ answered Clary, with a pleasant laugh. + +At that moment Miss Bethia looked in with a face grown pale, a dazed +look, and a paper in her hand. + +‘Will you come here and speak, Eneas?’ + +She summoned him mysteriously. He rose slowly to grant her request. + +‘What is’t, Betheye? Speak out. What’s a’ the hullaballoo?’ demanded +Miss Janet, her imperious curiosity, together with her clear conscience, +getting the better of her late decorous politeness. + +Thus adjured, Miss Bethia did not know how to refuse replying. Besides, +she, too, was destitute of any serious apprehension, and regarded the +affair--which no doubt had given her a little fright, in spite of its +absurdity--as a foolish mistake. + +‘It’s twa shirra-officers, I think, come in a cab, sayin’ they have a +warrant for us.’ + +‘A warrant!’ cried Eneas, horrified; ‘an arrest for debt, you mean? I +had no idea of this. Yes, I will speak to the men, of course,’ he +continued, in some agitation. ‘But I must see you out first, Miss +Drysdale. This--this misfortune, of which I had no conception, is not a +thing for you to be mixed up with.’ + +‘Don’t mind me, Mr. Mackinnon,’ said Clary, still mistress of herself, +though she looked startled. ‘I shall go in a minute, if you wish it; but +can I be of no use? My father is not in town, but my brother is at the +office. Could he do nothing?’ + +‘Debt!’ shrieked Miss Janet, who had been struck dumb by the unfounded +accusation. ‘We do not owe a sillar saxpence. We never did, when we were +near starvation--ladies though we were: that you did not ken of, Eneas, +you that have evened us to debt!’ + +‘I have no wish to intrude,’ the civil enough, but grave-sounding voice +of the constable spoke from the hall. The speaker followed the voice +with his person, punctiliously removing his hat as he entered the room, +but making good his entrance. ‘I must come in to do my duty. I had +better explain this is not an arrest for debt; it is a warrant from the +fiscal to take the three auld leddies before a magistrate.’ + +The outrage was so inconceivable that Miss Janet laughed aloud, while +Miss Bethia’s vague terror returned, and Miss Mackinnon appealed +helplessly: + +‘Wha is he? The drummer? But whaur’s his drum? Did we lose onything +yesterday, Janet--Betheye?’ + +‘What on earth is the pretence for this extraordinary proceeding? There +must be some huge blunder,’ insisted Eneas. ‘These are my aunts--the +Miss Mackinnons--who have lived here for more than half a century. They +are well known in Glasgow--hundreds will speak to their respectability. +Good heavens! who has doubted it?’ + +‘I have nothing to say against it, sir,’ answered the inflexible servant +of the law. ‘I presumed these were the Miss Mackinnons, and I have a +warrant to take them up.’ + +‘On what charge?’ + +‘The charge I am ready to tell you. It is the wilful and malicious +burning of the will of the late Archibald Fenton of Strathdivie, at +Strathdivie, on the 11th of this month, by May Mackinnon, Janet +Mackinnon, and Elizabeth or Bethia Mackinnon. I have to caution the +prisoners against saying anything.’ + +‘The thing is preposterous,’ protested the Lieutenant. ‘It is true my +aunts have just returned from Strathdivie, where they went for the +funeral of their relative, but you may as well accuse them of setting +fire to his house as of burning his will. What do you say, Aunt Janet?’ +asked Eneas almost cheerfully, his confidence re-established by the +incredibility of the charge. + +‘That we brunt it, sure enough, and what for no?’ demanded the undaunted +woman. ‘The wull had no concern with onybody save oursel’s, unless it +were a couple of servants. Archie Fenton had got out his spite at me and +Meye by making an eldest dochter--or, as some say, an eldest son--of +Betheye, who would not lend hersel’ to sic treachery, so we agreed among +oursel’s to turn the tables upon the man by burning the wull and +dividing the money fair. We’ll see that the servants have their legacy, +which is mair than ane of them deserves--an impident hizzie--but that’s +neither here nor there. Now what have you to say against it, Lieutenant? +There’s no fraud or wrang done; it was to prevent wrang; neither law nor +gospel can object to that. I cannot tell what the man means. I suppose +the writer body was angered at not getting a job. But I’ve explained,’ +ended Miss Janet, in perfect assurance that her explanation was +satisfactory. + +Miss Mackinnon and Miss Betheye were equally convinced. Miss Betheye was +again shaking off her alarm, and feeling some amount of complacency for +the part she had played in the matter. + +‘I would not have touched a farthing of what should have been Meye’s +and Janet’s,’ she added her version of the story; ‘and as long as the +wull was there, they wouldna tak’ their ain from me, at my pleasure, and +me the youngest. There was nothing for it but to destroy the paper, +which had only to do with our business, and mak’ a new settlement.’ + +As for Miss Mackinnon, she darted her hawk’s glance all around, and +actually chuckled. + +Eneas Mackinnon stood the picture of despair. + +‘How could you be so mad?’ he broke out, with passion that was strange +in the man. ‘I thought even old women had more sense.’ + +Claribel Drysdale touched him on the arm, and drew him a little aside. + +‘Don’t you see, your aunts meant no harm,’ she whispered; ‘it was an +accident. Don’t undeceive them yet. It would be barbarous. I’ll go with +them to the magistrate.’ + +‘Impossible!’ he exclaimed. ‘What would your father think? You are an +angel of goodness, but---- ’ + +‘No, no,’ she said, with a faint smile; ‘I am not very good. I am only +an idle girl up in town for a day, and I have nothing particular to do +when nearly all my friends are away.’ + +‘But your father---- ’ + +‘My father has the greatest respect for your aunts as worthy +representatives of one of the old Glasgow families. He would be glad +that I should do anything for them in an awkward dilemma.’ + +‘I know I ought not to allow it,’ he began to hesitate; ‘it would be +very unpleasant for you; and where would be the use?’ + +‘The magistrate may be an acquaintance of mine, or he may know my +name--my father has some influence. Go for my brother, and try what he +can do. You must not seek to prevent me from accompanying the Miss +Mackinnons, if the men will let me, and I think we can manage that. +There is no other woman to go with them, and they may break down when +they learn the truth.’ + +Eneas stood and looked at Claribel like a man struck dumb and +fascinated. He had always guessed that she was wise and capable, but he +had never known what she could do when there was a call for the exercise +of her powers. He obeyed her--nay, Miss Janet obeyed her, after she had +cried out violently that the magistrate might come to her--she would not +stir a foot to go to him. Let them put a finger on her if they daured. +The Lieutenant would take care of that, though he had to send for his +swurd to strike a blow for his aunties, and for social order in their +persons. + +‘But we are all going, Miss Janet,’ said Claribel calmly. ‘All we ladies +are going. You will not refuse to accompany your sisters and me.’ + +‘Weel, if you are proposin’ to mak’ a ploy o’t,’ yielded Miss Janet +doubtfully, ‘if you want to tak’ a ride through the streets to see the +toon--only you can do that ony day from your mammaw’s carriage.’ + +‘But I have not you or the other Miss Mackinnons to bear me company,’ +said Clary promptly. + +‘Nor Eneas here,’ said Miss Janet, falling into the trap. ‘There will be +room for him on the dickie.’ + +‘No,’ said Claribel, with the same clear decision that was apt to carry +everything before it at home and abroad. ‘He is going for my brother, to +help to put an end to this little difficulty; but they will join us +immediately.’ + +By sheer force of character, and by taking the lead--a proceeding +unlooked for and extraordinary where her age and sex were concerned, but +warrantable when there was no one else to stand in the breach--since the +man entitled to act was stupefied and sick to the bottom of his soul +with affront and dismay--Clary grasped the situation, controlled the +other actors in it, and did the best that could be done under the +circumstances. She gave Eneas a hint of what he was to try to do in +another brief aside. + +‘You know, Mr. Mackinnon’--she allowed him credit for knowledge which +had not yet come to him--‘your aunts must not be detained a moment +longer than can be helped. Somebody must find bail for them. Oh! it will +be very easy--my father, if he could be got in time, Dr. Peter +Murray--oh! dozens of people will be willing.’ + +He departed instantly to fulfil her behests. He had not her quick, +practical brain, her unfaltering self-reliance, her moral courage; but +he had, at least, the merit of appreciating them when he found them. He +was ready to worship her, to make her his guiding star, to be twice the +man with her that he would have been without her. + +All Glasgow rang with the news when it was noised abroad that the Miss +Mackinnons, of St. Mungo’s Square, had been taken before a magistrate +on a charge of felony. Some laughter, but far more horror and pity, were +called forth. As Claribel Drysdale had said, dozens of citizens were +willing to be bail for the unfortunate ladies. They were not detained +more than an hour, during which Miss Janet was so smoothed down and held +in check by Clary’s peculiar tact and firmness, that the chief offender +refrained from adding to her foolish vindication of her heinous +misdemeanour the fresh offence of gratuitously insulting the magistrate. + +The Miss Mackinnons were at home again without having incurred much +harm. The misfortune was that the business could not rest there. The +case, on the face of it, must be sent for trial. No exercise of interest +on the ladies’ behalf could prevent the necessity for them to take their +places where other offenders had stood before them, in the public court, +and run the risk of a sentence which, to old women, born and bred as +they had been, was all but synonymous with death. Tam Drysdale was at +his wits’ end, and with many another kindly Glasgow man, full of Glasgow +spirit, was willing to spare neither time, trouble, nor expense to help +his townswomen in the strait into which their ignorance and rashness had +brought them. The best counsel would be got, every available witness +procured, and every extenuating circumstance receive a full hearing, as +if the old Virginian Mackinnon were still making Glasgow ‘trim’le’ at +the wag of his finger. + +Tam made no objection to Claribel’s remaining in town, and going often +to St. Mungo’s Square. He was proud to think that one of his daughters +had shown such presence of mind, and been able to prove her loyalty to +ladies in adversity. If it was any comfort to them for Clary to call on +them, to do what she could to cheer and counsel them, they were heartily +welcome to the comfort, so far as he and mother were concerned. Clary +was only a girl, but the Miss Mackinnons might listen to less sensible +encouragement and advice, though he said it who, perhaps, should not say +it. + +For any delicate reason why Claribel ought not to be conspicuously mixed +up with the Mackinnons and their affairs, auld Tam could dismiss it +without another consideration. He was entirely of opinion that this +calamity to the whole Mackinnon family would knock on the head the +wildest pretensions of the ‘offisher lad’ to Clary’s favour. He could +never be so base--Tam had almost said--even if she would listen to him, +as to propose to connect himself with the Drysdales, after the fellow’s +aunts had rubbed shoulders with the hulks, and after what he--Tam +Drysdale--was striving to do to avert the catastrophe. The thing was +clean out of the question. + +Stout-hearted as Miss Janet was, the trial hanging over her, with the +restlessness of Miss Mackinnon, the lamentations of Miss Bethia, the +stern remonstrances and injunctions of the lawyers, broke her down, +comparatively. While she still stuck to the point that she and her +sisters had meant no ill and were morally entitled to pursue the course +they had adopted, she ceased to indulge in hectoring. Nay, on the great +day when she had to face judge, jury, and crowded court, she was brought +to the extreme length of not speaking till she was spoken to. And when +Miss Janet was tamed, all were tamed, though Miss Mackinnon struggled +painfully with her infirmity, and Miss Bethia looked well-nigh +distracted. + +Claribel Drysdale was present, but she did not sit near the old ladies. +That place was for their agitated, handsome nephew from the Barracks. +But it was she who had suggested to him to take it, and it was she who +had induced Lady Semple to come with Dick and express her sympathy with +her son’s friend. Moreover, Claribel admitted that she was in the Court +at once to maintain the spirits of her singular charge, and to do what +she could to keep them in order. + +The judges were in their seats. The jury were sworn in. The Miss +Mackinnons had surrendered to their friends’ bail, and pled guilty; the +case was argued in earnest on both sides. It was no mere form or piece +of mockery for as simple and ridiculous a transgression as ever the law +laid hold of. On the one hand were ranged the insubordination of the +proceeding, the aggravation of its committal by persons of birth, +education, and mature years, its evil as a precedent. On the other hand +were marshalled the absence of criminal intent on the part of the +offenders, their stupid but honest ignorance of the law, their frank and +full admission of what they had done the moment the question was put to +them, with the crowning extenuation that they had not devised wrong to +any human being by their lawless act; they had merely agreed among +themselves to divide, as they judged, more fairly the money which had +come to them by right. The law might say that this was a lame defence, +but what right-minded man could refuse to admit its cogency? + +All unseemly demonstrations of curiosity and amusement were put down +while the verdict was in suspense. As a matter of fact there could only +be one--that of guilty--to which indeed the Miss Mackinnons had pled. +The question was, what would be the relative mildness or severity of the +sentence the judge must deliver? The trespass against authority had been +as audacious as trespass could be; but in consideration of the freedom +from malice, and the sex and age of the trespassers, justice was +tempered with mercy. + +One month’s imprisonment, without hard labour, in Glasgow Gaol, was +awarded to the three Miss Mackinnons. + +‘My lord---- ’ said Miss Janet, recovering from her dumbness and +stumbling to her feet. But she was denied a last protest. She and her +sisters were surrounded and hurried out of Court. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +‘LOVE WILL VENTURE IN WHERE WISDOM AINCE HAS BEEN.’ + + +Clary was the first to utter a modified congratulation. The result might +have been so much worse. + +‘Never mind, Miss Janet; a month will soon be over. Everybody knows you +meant no harm. It was all that horrid Fenton of Strathdivie, with his +ridiculous will. Your friends will come and see you on all the +visiting-days.’ + +‘Lassie,’ said Miss Janet, for she had grown familiar with her young +ally, ‘do you think I would demean mysel’ to mak’ a moan, though we’ve +been waur tret than thieves and vagabonds--hiz that have paid our +taxes, the police-tax among them--every shillin’ to the Queen and +country, since the year that my father died? I was only going to tell +the judge that there had been word of our great-grandfather being sent +to the Tooer of London, for although he was not just out with Prince +Charlie, there was no doubt that the Mackinnon of that day waited on the +Prince at Shawfield House. It would better have become the Croon to give +his descendants lodgings in the Tooer, if so be we were to suffer +imprisonment for settin’ wrang richt, than to send us to the common +jile.’ + +‘Oh, Janet,’ Miss Bethia wailed, ‘think of the journey for Meye! They +may put irons on us in the jile, but they cannot bring us to the block +there.’ + +‘The block!’ cried Miss Janet. ‘It would be the hangman’s wuddie +[gallows].’ + +‘No, no,’ Clary interposed fearlessly. ‘Why do you frighten your sister, +Miss Janet, and slander the powers that be? You will only have to stay +in comfortable rooms where you can have books and work and anything you +wish, till you come out and return to your own house in St. Mungo’s +Square, in the course of four weeks.’ + +When the Miss Mackinnons had tasted the penalties of modern captivity, +had survived the first shock, and found themselves not fatally injured +by it, they were heard to say that prisoners did not know what it was to +live. If they had learnt to deny themselves, and to fare as ladies and +gentlemen had often to fare, they would think little of +imprisonment--rather, they would count it, if they had done no wrong of +which they ought to repent and be ashamed, a very decent sort of refuge! +Certainly folk could not get out when they wanted, but then they did not +want to go out in rainy weather--and when did it not rain in the west? +There was never a loss without a compensation. As for anything else--bed +and board, fuel and light, the sufferers by the law’s severity were bold +to complain. It was the innocent people that had to keep up comfortable +gaols who were entitled to cry out, and perhaps it was but just that +some time or other they should reap the benefit of what they had long +contributed to maintain. + +Unquestionably the Miss Mackinnons, in the philosophic spirit at which +they had arrived, had all the alleviations which could be procured for +them in their peculiar circumstances. Among these were the constant +visits of Claribel Drysdale, who never missed a visiting-day. She had +taken the Miss Mackinnons regularly under her protection. How and why +she endured what was so antagonistic to her own taste, nobody could +tell. The fact remained that she did it. She knew, as Maggie Craig had +known before her, that the eccentric old ladies were come of the cream +of old Glasgow; that in reality, some of their objectionable qualities +were the growth of the arrogance and irreproachability of their ancient +social claims. But then Claribel Drysdale had cared nothing for any +cream of Glasgow, old or new; she had appeared to build her hopes and +ambitions on a different foundation. Was it that, having been drawn into +the use of her finer faculties, she enjoyed the exercise too keenly to +be willing to relinquish it, or to consent to forego its reward? Was it +that the rage of conquest came over her, conquest of elements the most +opposed to those in her own character, conquest of herself as well as of +others; a proud determination to show that she was equal to any +difficulty, and mistress of it before she had done? Was it simply that +deep down in Claribel Drysdale’s calm, strong, well-balanced nature, +there was a fountain of self-devotion, and one had unlocked the spring? +He possessed other and more evident attractions for her; but was the +most potent attraction of all really what was helpless and hopeless in +him, which, in place of provoking and repelling her, appealed +irresistibly to her strength of purpose, her instinct of ruling, and +talent for making the best of things? + +Among Clary’s tastes had not been the rustic one of early rising, which +had been found in her sister Eppie. Yet Claribel was, at this time, +repeatedly the first at the breakfast-table at Drysdale Hall, which, as +in all similar establishments, was regulated with a view to the men of +the house setting off for business before the idler world was stirring. +Clary would make the most unfaltering request for the use of the +carriage at an unheard-of hour in the morning. Neither did she make the +smallest concealment of her object. She was going to drive in to +Glasgow, to the City prison, to see the Miss Mackinnons. She wished to +be there as soon as the gates were opened. + +Eppie junior marvelled; young Tam stared; Eppie senior looked troubled, +but shrank from interfering. Auld Tam was blind. He even glanced up from +his ham and egg to express his approbation. + +‘It’s very gude of you, Clary, to think of the auld leddies in the +trouble, in which there is no disgrace--none to forbid your going among +them, even without your mither, at this hour. Still, it is very mindful +and pretty of you, my dear.’ + +‘Not at all,’ said Claribel, turning her handsome face, unmoved in its +clear paleness, on her father; ‘I go to please myself. I have taken the +Miss Mackinnons under my care. They are my old ladies now.’ + +Plenty of people were remarking significantly on Miss Drysdale’s +extraordinary attentions to three old, unattractive women, the victims +of their idiotic conceit and silliness. Mrs. Drysdale well knew this, +though she could not bring herself to transfer the knowledge to a +quarter from which it might be energetically acted upon. Ill-natured +tongues even went so far as to say that Lady Semple was enough a woman +of the world to keep herself out of the entanglement. She had shown a +little kindliness on her own account to the Miss Mackinnons because they +had really become objects of pity, and her son had been in the same +regiment and on intimate terms with young Mackinnon. But she had taken +care never to accompany Claribel Drysdale to the gaol--Claribel +Drysdale, who had been so particular and had not thought any man in +Glasgow fit for her! She must have been engaged beforehand to the +nephew--a penniless officer. Why had auld Tam Drysdale permitted it? Why +did he not interfere now and put a stop to the engagement, when it was +almost certain that Mr. Mackinnon must leave the army, and no longer +retain his claim to as much as a subaltern’s rank and a starvation +income? A fine end to Claribel Drysdale’s proud pretensions! + +But auld Tam was possessed by another idea, and saw nothing of what was +passing before his very eyes. + +The last time Clary drove, before women like her were to be seen abroad, +to that strange destination for a girl in the upper classes, and waited +in the carriage till the time to enter, she caught a glimpse of Eneas +Mackinnon, with a similar intention, standing where he could best escape +observation. Even from the little she could see of him, she could judge +that he looked ill and dejected. The next moment she alighted and walked +towards him, coming up behind him and making him turn, startled by the +quiet mention of his name--‘Mr. Mackinnon.’ + +He shook hands with her in silence, colouring highly as he did so. + +‘Why don’t you say “well met”?’ she rallied him. + +‘Well met here!’ he exclaimed with more desperate sadness than +bitterness, for he was hardly ever a bitter man. + +‘Yes; why not here, when it is for the last time? Your aunts will be +free in three days.’ + +‘Well, I suppose for their sakes I ought to rejoice,’ he said with an +effort; ‘as I should thank you for your great kindness to them.’ + +‘No, indeed; no thanks. I told my father that already this morning. I +come to please myself. I have taken the old ladies under my wing.’ + +He looked at her wistfully, but when he spoke again he had dropped her +out of the conversation. + +‘I ought not to grudge them their release, poor old souls,’ he said +slowly. ‘They brought me up, and have always cared for me a hundred +times more than I deserve, and I have not been able to do anything for +them. I know now, though I was a dolt at the time, that when my aunt +Bethia had fever, the whole family might have died of starvation, but +for the help which your father and Dr. Murray gave them. I may well +forgive the most egregious of their blunders--of course they did not +know the mischief they were doing to themselves or any other person. But +they have put the finishing-touch to my disadvantages--to the gross +mistake which stranded me in the army--not that I have any reason to +suppose I could have done much good in any other profession. I had +better walk into the Clyde at once, and save myself and my friends +further trouble which will be ill repaid.’ + +‘You--a soldier!’ she said, in her low distinct voice. + +‘I shall not be a soldier much longer,’ he declared. ‘Why should I bring +a slur upon the service to which I have been a small gain at the best, +by continuing in it after the pass to which my people have brought +themselves and me?’ and he looked up at the prison walls. ‘This is a +little incident in my family history which will not be forgotten.’ + +‘Don’t seek that it should be forgotten--a foolish, I grant you very +foolish, but perfectly guileless mistake of three old ladies--why, it +was a thing innocent children might have done. I wish your brother +officers may have nothing worse to reveal in the histories of their +families,’ she said fearlessly. + +‘You are too good,’ he told her again. ‘But the very absurdity of the +affair will perpetuate its memory. I do not wish to blame anybody, I do +not wish to crave pity from you; but it is the last straw which breaks +the camel’s back.’ + +‘Then the camel should get somebody else to help to bear it.’ + +‘Who would?’ he asked quickly. ‘I have nothing to offer in return but +the miserable pittance of a lieutenant in a marching regiment, which I +can only make pay my own expenses by scraping and saving. Miss Drysdale, +you can’t tell what a manager I am,’ he said, with a little bitterness +this time; ‘how I save up my stores and make my old clothes do double +duty, like an old woman. What would the rich young Glasgow fellows think +if they saw behind the scenes? They have a tolerably accurate knowledge, +indeed, that I am impecunious, but wouldn’t they laugh awfully at my +dodges?’ + +‘The rich young Glasgow fellows,’ she said, with scorn, ‘would half +empty their purses to be like you in some respects, and they would do +well to make the little sacrifice. But I know more of the rich young +Glasgow girls. I suppose you would say we were very extravagant; at +least, so Lady Semple tells me. We would give more for a lace flounce, +or a fur trimming, than would keep a poor, respectable middle-class +family for a year. And it is not all in bad taste, some of us dress +tolerably well--confess it, Mr. Mackinnon,’ she demanded--gaily for +Clary, who was generally too dignified to be gay. + +‘Your dress, like everything else about you, is perfection; and that’s +what drives poor devils to destruction,’ he muttered, half-piqued, +half-puzzled. + +‘I have always liked to dress well, and to dress in a way that becomes a +rich man’s daughter; but do you suppose I should care to do it if--if I +were a poor man’s wife? Don’t you see it would no longer be in keeping? +It is not so much the dress as the sense of fitness I mind.’ + +‘But you would not be in your right place as a poor man’s wife,’ he said +in agitation; ‘no penniless wretch of a subaltern would presume.’ + +‘We were not talking of subalterns,’ she said demurely; ‘and as for +presumption, could it be presumption if the person most concerned did +not think so?’ + +‘Claribel!’ he said. + +‘Eneas!’ she answered. + +‘It would be dishonourable in me to take advantage of your generosity.’ +He struggled to act up to his conception of the character of a +gentleman. ‘I can hardly keep myself--we should have to be dependent on +your father. He would never consent. I have felt before now that he +desired to hold me at arm’s length--that you might have nothing to say +to me, though lately he has not thought it worth his while to use such +precautions. He has been a good friend to my poor old aunts in their +trouble; but I have sunk fathoms in his estimation, socially.’ + +She listened without contradicting him; indeed, she admitted candidly: + +‘I don’t say you are wrong. My father has a greater respect for the old +than for the young Mackinnons. He does not think you are a match for a +Drysdale.’ It was plain speaking, and he winced. She went on--‘But when +I marry, it will be I who marry, and not my father. No one knows that +better than he, and he is good and kind, as well as clever and +successful. He is respected for more than his wealth and social +position. I am sure he could not be utterly inconsistent if he tried.’ + +‘I have no doubt your father is all you say,’ said the Lieutenant, but +in anything rather than an assured tone. + +‘He’s not a small tyrant,’ insisted Claribel. ‘He is neither unfair nor +cruel. He may disapprove, but he will not long dispute my right of +choice, or refuse me a daughter’s portion, when he is convinced that I +am in earnest.’ + +‘I trust you are right,’ he said nervously; ‘but it seems too +splendidly good news to be true; I cannot believe it. I fear I must be +taking a mean advantage of your---- ’ + +‘Simplicity,’ she finished his sentence for him with a laugh. ‘No, don’t +treat me as a simpleton, and please don’t distress yourself on my +account, as if I had become your prey--for it is really too good of you. +I have always known what I was about--always seen and taken what suited +me best; and if I find, on mature consideration, that you suit me--why +need you object? You don’t really, else I should not have said what I +have--I should not be here at all, I dare say.’ + +‘Object!’ he exclaimed, in a tone which carried conviction with it. + +‘There is one advantage of being come of the people,’ she proceeded +calmly. ‘Have you never observed how much the rich Glasgow girls manage +their own lives and settle their fortunes? I am not a great admirer of +the causes which have led to such a result, but I have always claimed +my independence, and prized it, and my father would be the last to seek +to deprive me of it.’ + +‘I hope you are right,’ he said emphatically. + +‘I am right,’ she told him; ‘neither my father nor my mother are, even +in theory, aristocratic parents. They would never dream of coercing +their children--at least, not their daughters. I am not certain whether +my father might not have been tempted to use indirect influence where my +brother was concerned, to get him to enter the business, my father’s +heart was so set upon it. But that is quite another thing from +interfering with his daughters in what is their affair. If my father is +not altogether willing, I don’t think your aunts will find fault,’ she +said, with a womanly archness that was both wonderful and charming in +Clary. + +‘No, indeed; but how shall I ever thank you?’ + +‘By believing and trusting me. Don’t you see that will be your duty and +privilege henceforth?’ + +Thus, in the raw morning, in that doleful place, where miserable men and +women were wont to meet and part, two hearts went together and sang +their song of joy, as if they had been in Eden. At the gate of Glasgow +Gaol, Claribel Drysdale, the proudest girl in Glasgow, plighted her +troth and resigned her liberty--if that could be called resigning, which +was in fact taking Eneas Mackinnon under her protection, and determining +to make the most of him, as of herself, in all time to come. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +A HORRIBLE SUSPICION ASSAILS AULD TAM. + + +What was auld Tam about, that he could permit his eldest daughter, his +‘edicate, handsome, tochered lass,’ to throw herself away on a cool +beggar of a penniless soldier--a man without the brains to keep his old +relations from a deed which had landed them in Glasgow Gaol, and +awakened the mingled laughter and pity of the whole city, the whole +country? The very monstrousness of such a conjecture, the very audacity +of Eneas Mackinnon’s continuing to have hopes and claims, served to put +Tam off his guard. He never dreamt that any precautions were necessary +after the Miss Mackinnons had done for themselves and their grand-nephew +effectually. + +There was more than magnanimity and good feeling in Tam’s exertions on +the old ladies’ behalf--there was a certain serious conviction that in +making them, all danger from that quarter was over. And auld Tam would +have been right if he had not left Clary out of his calculations--if he +had not failed to make allowance for a tenacity of purpose and power of +getting her own way by bending everything and everybody, including the +chief obstacles to her will, and the very persons who ought to have had +the deciding vote, to do her bidding. + +With Clary to overrule circumstances and constrain Eneas Mackinnon to +follow her lead, Tam ought never to have been sure of what might or +might not happen. But in addition to his false security in the +persuasion that the ‘offisher lad’ would not have the face any longer to +look at Clary, and that the girl herself had listened to reason and was +actuated by motives of mere philanthropy, Tam Drysdale’s attention was +suddenly violently distracted and held fast in another direction. A +crowd of interests of greater importance--nay, of vital moment--pressed +upon him, till the question of Clary and her settlement in life dwindled +into a drop in the bucket, a speck on the horizon. + +On the very day that Claribel’s future was settled at the gaol-door, her +father had gone to the office of a solicitor named Greig, who had been +employed in the Miss Mackinnons’ case, whose bill auld Tam had taken it +upon him to discharge. The bill was not longer than he had expected, and +he was not the man to grudge it, so that he was in a placid enough frame +of mind. Having come a little distance, he felt inclined to tarry a +moment and talk at his ease, particularly as the owner of the office was +an exceptionally pleasant old gentleman, possessed of a good deal of +curious professional information, beyond what was of a private and +confidential nature, which he had no objection to air for the benefit of +his clients. + +‘As I told you, Mr. Drysdale,’ said Mr. Greig--a stout, bald-headed man +who sat facing his visitor, slightly flourishing a pencil and laying +down the law, which was in a manner his own property--‘the ladies may be +thankful they got off as they did. It is an old story, the contract +which gave them a claim on Strathdivie. I’m not quite clear that Fenton +might not have disputed it; you see, there was a certain power vested in +the Fentons, which was in itself something of a flaw. But marriage +contracts are, like the marriages they represent, not things to parry +with. They are about as bad as trusteeships; and I consider that it must +be a most extraordinary will which gives more trouble and brings more +grist to the lawyer’s mill, than these two other devices of the enemy.’ + +‘Do you say so, sir?’ answered Tam, who did not at the moment care much +about the statement, but who had a shrewd, intelligent man’s general +desire to receive trustworthy information on any subject, not to say on +one which cropped up periodically in most family histories. ‘I had no +marriage contract, for the very good reason that I had little enough to +settle on my wife when I got her. But after a man has made some money, +and has dochters belonging to him, it may be as well for him to ken what +is necessary on the subject. Now that I come to think of it, I have a +marriage settlement which came accidentally into my possession not very +long syne.’ Some feeling of delicacy and not of craftiness prevented +auld Tam from saying whose marriage settlement it was. He only added, +after an instant, while the lawyer listened as if he were on the alert +for what might concern himself, ‘I had almost forgotten the existence of +the paper, in place of putting it into the hands of the person who has +most richt to it.’ + +‘Then this is a most fortuitous conversation,’ said Mr. Greig briskly. +‘Take my advice, sir, and do not let the grass grow on your forwarding +the deed to its proper destination. You are not aware what weighty +issues may hang on its contents.’ + +‘Houts, Mr. Greig!’ exclaimed Tam, a little impatiently. ‘It has not to +do with any living creature. Both of the contracting parties are dead, +after having cleverly disposed of what they contracted for, mair than +twenty years syne.’ + +‘That does not matter a brass farthing,’ insisted Mr. Greig, as if he +enjoyed the irrelevancy of the protest, and the superiority of marriage +contracts to such trifles as death and the making away with worldly +goods. ‘Marriage contracts have to do with generations unborn, whom they +fetter beforehand. They are no joke, Mr. Drysdale. Why, the very +settlement that led indirectly to the act of which the Miss Mackinnons +were guilty, might have opened your eyes alike to the security and the +danger of marriage contracts.’ + +Tam was startled; but he failed as yet to see what might be the full +significance of the communication to him. + +‘I understand about a charge like that on the estate of Strathdivie,’ he +said deliberately; ‘but you do not mean to say that a dead man, by the +stroke of a pen, could control sale and purchase, and hinder the +business of the world where his bairns’ bairns, or heirs farther off +still, were in question? Let us suppose a case,’ he continued, warming +to the dispute, and feeling a thrill, as it were, of premonition pass +through him when he gave with double consciousness his imaginary +example. ‘A bargain has been made without heed to an existing marriage +contract, maybe without the knowledge of sic a trap, though, according +to your tale, it is binding on both the bargainers; do you mean to tell +me that the paction will be broken and some innocent man condemned to +loss, because he had the misfortune to be ignorant of what was out of +his way? What justice would there be in that?’ + +‘I’m not prepared to say about the justice,’ said Mr. Greig cautiously. +‘There may be two sides to the question, and a good deal of argument on +either side. But I can speak for the law--_that_ goes as far as you +say.’ + +‘Then I take leave to say I’ll have a poorer opinion of the law from +this day,’ said Tam stiffly. ‘I was wont to think that law and justice +in this country were as nearly ane as human frailty would alloo; but, if +I’m to trust a legal authority, I’ve been in error.’ + +‘I beg your pardon, my dear sir; there are limits to marriage +contracts,’ said Mr. Greig, stroking his own bald head softly. He did +not wish to offend an influential client, neither did he like--to his +credit--to wound an honest man. + +‘I should hope so,’ said Tam sharply. + +‘We have been speaking vaguely,’ went on the other, with increasing +suavity; ‘we have been implying, for one thing, that there are +descendants to profit by the contract, which, by-the-bye, is registered +and placed where all men may read it, if they will.’ + +‘Humph!’ said Tam, ‘and what if they are not readers of sic +documents? What if they never heard tell of sic a privilege or +needcessity--whichever you may like to call it.’ + +Mr. Greig began again to smooth down the crown of his head tenderly, as +if it had been the man he was addressing. + +‘You’ve had enough to do with heritable property, Mr. Drysdale, to be +well acquainted with the nature of title-deeds. You know that every +prudent man--I may say, every man in his sober senses--will desire to +see such deeds before he invests in the lands or the houses that the +papers represent. Well then, marriage contracts are not so far out of +the category. A purchaser who has any reason to suppose there may have +been such a contract, or indeed without supposing at all, for the +greater assurance of himself and his family, is bound to apply for a +warrant, called “a search,” to satisfy himself that there is no prior +obligation to interfere with his future rights.’ + +‘That is to say,’ said Tam, with a fine flavour of irony, ‘he should +prepare for falling among thieves.’ + +‘He might do worse,’ said the lawyer, with a laugh, declining to make a +personal application of the remark. ‘I am aware that the precaution is +often neglected among acquaintances and friends, but it ought not to be. +You know the Spanish proverb, about not trusting your own father to +count money.’ + +‘It is a blackguard saying!’ cried Tam indignantly. + +‘I am afraid it is,’ admitted Mr. Greig candidly. ‘But apart from that, +there may be ignorance, as you said, on both sides, in selling without +the liberty to sell, as well as in buying without the power to buy. +Surely, without any prejudice, it is a duty to guard against the +possibility of such mutually ruinous ignorance, though there are other +laws that offer some compensation to the unwary.’ + +‘I cannot stop to hear them; and I am free to own that what I have +heard does not recommend itself to me. But marriage contracts are not +things that I have ony troke with as yet,’ he added with sudden decision +while he rose, ‘even if I had not got enough of law for one day--if you +will forgive me for saying so, Mr. Greig,’ ended Tam, recovering his +natural courtesy. + +Mr. Greig balanced his pencil between his fingers after Tam had left +him, and pondered a moment. + +‘I thought auld Tam Drysdale had been less stupid and better informed,’ +he ruminated, with a shade of professional narrowness. ‘He is more +intolerant and less reasonable than I had pictured him. I dare say his +success is wasting him and making a bully of him--I have often seen the +process--or he may have been bitten in some of his purchases; they say +he is adding field to field, and buying in all the small crofts about +Drysdale Haugh. These prosperous men hate to be beaten in the value of a +halfpenny. Anyway, he will not grant even to himself that he has come +off the loser by the business. He’s a dour dog, auld Tam, but he’s not +the worst sort. I was a fool to stroke him the wrong way; however, he’s +not the kind that bears malice.’ + +The lawyer--lawyer though he was--failed to connect the momentary heat +which Tam had shown, with his voluntary announcement, at the beginning +of the conversation, that he had come into the possession of a marriage +contract which was none of his. Nor, for that matter, did Tam in so many +words acknowledge to himself that there was any link between the two +facts, unless by the vehemence with which he kept repeating, as he drove +out the same afternoon to Drysdale Hall, that he had nothing to do with +such riddles, such provisions made, and snares laid for the +unsuspecting. + +Mrs. Gavin Mackinnon, Miss Craig that was, had given her husband the +power of selling Drysdale Haugh and the dyeworks to Tam Drysdale. Why +should she have been at the trouble and expense of granting the man +such power, if it was not hers to grant, if in professing to do so she +defrauded generations unborn--generations descended from her and Guy +Mackinnon? Would she not take care that everything was plain when it was +so much her own interest to be careful? He, Tam Drysdale, had bought the +place in good faith, with honest money, hardly won, and the farm and the +works had belonged to his father’s kinsman--to a Drysdale, long before +the name of Mackinnon had been heard on the Aytoun Water. Who would be +mad enough to dispute Tam’s purchase? What law was there in the universe +that could dare to call itself law, and at the same time question his +title to Drysdale Haugh? + +But was there any mention of heirs in that ill-preserved, ill-gotten +contract between Eneas Mackinnon and Margaret Craig which had reached +him--Tam Drysdale--by a strange mischance, if not by a projected fraud? + +He could not for the life of him answer the question, at which he kept +quarrying afresh during every mile of the road between Glasgow and +Drysdale Hall. Was there no mention of children in the contract, as +there certainly was not in that will of old Drysdale’s, for which Tam +had proposed to barter the other? or was there no such coincidence, +which would in itself, perhaps, have been singular? Had he merely +overlooked the clause because the paper had struck him as worse than +useless, a record of disappointed hopes and lost opportunities? + +All the time that Tam was scouting the apprehension as unreasonable and +impracticable, and telling himself what a fool he was to suffer even a +momentary scare from the long-winded sentences and long-nebbed words of +a book-man--a lawyer--he harassed himself with a fruitless effort to +satisfy this doubt. ‘Whitebreeks’ went through his paces uselessly, +where his master was concerned. For once the school-children, lingering +for him at Birlie Brae, looked wistfully in his face, and meeting no +responsive glance, shrank from hanging on to the dogcart, and fell back +discomfited, deprived of the ride which he himself had described as so +sweet a pleasure to juvenile trespassers. Auld Tam neither saw their +wonder and disappointment, nor did he observe beast or bird, field or +hedgerow, on his homeward way through the stubble-fields, and between +the hedges growing red with hips and haws. He was in a brown study--most +unusual with him--the whole road. + +Thompson, the groom, glancing askance at his master, gave his own head +ever so slight a shake--either auld Tam was on the verge of a fit of +apoplexy, or, as the idea of any other loss of power in that quarter was +unfamiliar to the servant, he judged his master must have made another +leap to the heights of fortune, which would land him among dukes and +earls, and take him away from driving in a dogcart to and from a city +office. But would he ever be so happy again in the highest places, as +when Thompson drove him behind ‘Whitebreeks’ as regular as the clock, +going over the ground--every inch of which he knew--in a given time, +neither too fast nor too slow, but just what was fit for a gentleman of +auld Tam’s years and substance, with the progress made between his grand +house and his place of business, where he had risen from being a working +man and earned all his money? Thompson made the reflection on his own +account sentimentally. + +The spell was not broken by the appearance of the two Eppies, ready to +meet and greet the husband and father. Yet neither did their presence, +nor the sight of Drysdale Hall, in what its master had fondly regarded +as its perfection, inflict a pang, as they might have done, or might +come to do. He only saw them as in a dream. The most active trouble he +was sensible of assailed him when his eye fell upon young Tam, whose +hours were not the same as his father’s, and who generally returned by +the railway, which had a station near the bleachfield. His father had +been so eager to embark young Tam with him in the business in which he +was now a partner, with a share in its liabilities as well as its +profits, that the elder man had forgotten the responsibilities which he +laid upon his son. + +Auld Tam put a force upon himself--he had early learnt self-mastery--he +met the advances of his family, he went and dressed for dinner, and sat +at the foot of his table in the ordinary fashion. But the impulse was +strong upon him to dispense with the usual arrangements and burdensome +formalities, including the eating of the principal meal of the day, set +all aside, retire to his business-room, and there investigate the terror +that--pretend to himself as he might--was chilling his blood and tugging +every moment harder at his heart-strings. + +Only love, watching auld Tam with Argus-eyes, detected that his appetite +and his conversation were the result of a hard struggle. It was the +elder Eppie who made the discovery, which astonished and even frightened +her a little. But tender affection has its sure intuitions and is equal +to most situations; besides, both of the Eppies had a fine good sense of +their own. Mrs. Drysdale would not call attention to a mood of body and +mind which it was clear her husband sought to keep to himself, by +assailing him with observations and inquiries. She behaved with true +delicacy--not even approaching him on the plea of ministering to his +wants. She kept back young Eppie with her smaller experience, taking her +aside and telling her simply father had ‘a sore head,’ and would prefer +to be undisturbed; she might give him a song by-and-by, if he came into +the drawing-room. + +Supposing it was his heart and not his head which ailed auld Tam, Eppie, +in the middle of her abounding sympathy, was willing to wait her +husband’s time to communicate his cares. + +At last auld Tam could retreat to his den--his innocent stage for +playing at being a laird and a J.P., where he had not even been cumbered +by business routine. He closed the door, bolted it for the first time in +his life, looked round on the engravings of reaping machines, +Brobdignagian turnips and fat cattle, felt the discrepancy between the +past and the present, and said grimly to himself, ‘I micht be going to +commit a murder,’ and then went straight to his desk, unlocked it, and +turned to the compartment in which he had put the two papers, till he +could see Lieutenant Mackinnon about them. Succeeding events, +conspicuous among them the danger in which the Miss Mackinnons had +stood, had occupied him and prevented him from carrying out his +intention. In fact, he had been hindered from thinking, with any +distinct purpose, till that day of Sandy Macnab’s call with Rory o’ the +Shelties, and of the deed and the contract which auld Tam had taken into +his own hands, under the impression that the papers were safer with him +than with a crazy Highland beggar. Certainly, when Tam had paid for +them, it had been more from a movement of half-reluctant compassion for +a miserable fatuous wretch who had deluded and overreached himself, than +as offering a price for documents, one of which had no interest, and the +other only a sentimental attraction, for him. + +There were the two old battered but still perfectly legible papers, with +the more modern slip appended by some officious pedantic Highland +minister or schoolmaster, as Tam had left them, safe enough in truth. He +began to wish he had never seen the deeds, that they had been +relinquished to the tender mercies of a madman. If Sandy Macnab had not +been so forward--if Rory had not been so greedy, and cunning, and weak +of wit--if that strange minister or schoolmaster had not been so +punctilious, the papers might have lain still where the careless, +swaggering sinner Guy Mackinnon had left them, and plagued nobody. + +But since they were here in his desk, by a queer coincidence, they must +be dealt with. + +Auld Tam sat down and proceeded to meet his fate. Yet, brave man as he +was, he continued to dally with it, to tell himself he was grossly +exaggerating the importance of the contents of one of these papers. +Since Mrs. Mackinnon had given her husband the power to sell Drysdale +Hall, such a power must have existed; neither he nor she could have been +such an idiot as to take the power for granted, be guilty of an unlawful +act, and commit a wrong against their children, born or unborn. + +As it happened, the will which Tam Drysdale had looked at last, the only +time he had gone over the deeds, was lying on the top of the contract. +He took it up and began to read it through, word for word, as if it had +been that with which he had to do--as if it were likely to contain some +information which might throw light on the uncertainty with regard to +the provisions of the other--an uncertainty which one glance at the +proper place would determine for ever. + +But old Drysdale’s will disinheriting auld Tam’s father had nothing more +to say to his son than it had said before, even though he methodically +reckoned up the period between the dates of the deaths of the uncle in +Scotland and the adopted niece in India--which had made all the +difference in the world in the succession, and enabled Maggie Craig to +step into her mother’s shoes and keep out the Drysdale cousin. + +With one hard-drawn breath, auld Tam put down the will and took up the +marriage contract, reading it as he had read the other, line by line and +sentence by sentence, through a few of the ancient barbarous words and a +dozen of the labyrinthian repetitions in which the law delights. At last +he came to the technical phrases, standing out on the page as if to +strike him a blow, written as if in letters of fire to burn into his +brain the disastrous intimation which they contained. Yes, the children +born of the marriage of Gavin Mackinnon and Margaret Craig, their heirs, +male and female, were deliberately set forth, mentioned, and +re-mentioned, as if they were the very persons for whom the contract had +been made, in whose protection it still unfolded its yellow parchment +wings, and commanded all infringers of its obligations to renounce their +unwarrantable assumptions and disgorge their dishonest gains. + +It became clear as day to Tam Drysdale, in less than a moment, that +neither Gavin Mackinnon nor his wife had held the right to sell Drysdale +Haugh, which was reserved for the children that might be born to them. +It was also plain enough to a man who had known something of the +couple--how it had happened--that there was nothing wonderful in it +unless the recklessness and folly of all concerned--himself included. +Mr. and Mrs. Mackinnon had been the very pair likely to get sick of the +unsuccessful struggle with the bleachfields and printingworks, to be +ready to shift them on other shoulders--first, on their partner’s, Mr. +Murray’s, and then on Tam’s. The husband and wife had been just the +people who would naturally snatch at the opportunity of getting rid of +the whole concern, and of having a sum of ready money substituted for an +unremunerative farm and a distasteful business. They would not stay to +investigate the power to work their will, they would take it for +granted. The two men who might have called the full-grown children to +account, the lawyers who had framed the settlement for preventing such a +disposal of the inheritance, with the trustees, were either out of the +way, or dead. The contract itself was not forthcoming. Lieutenant Eneas, +if a baby’s feeble voice could have been heard protesting against the +injury inflicted on his prospects, was not born. It might have been that +the future parents had given up the expectation of having children, and +when the unlooked-for event was foreshadowed had decided between +themselves that what was done could not be undone, and that the child +would experience no great loss in the withdrawal from its keeping of a +succession which had prospered so ill with his father and mother. + +All had favoured the fatal blundering. Auld Tam was not free from blame. +A dim recollection came back upon him which sickened him, as with a +throe of remorse and rage, at his own infatuation. Somebody, he could no +longer tell whom--some cautious old friend or sharp-sighted +associate--had spoken to him of the possible existence of prior +contracts, apart from the title-deeds, and advised a reference to them. +And he had thought the friend timid, and the associate picking a hole in +Tam’s coat. For he, too, had been eager and set on his purchase. He had +derided the idea of any obstacle. He had insisted that he knew all about +Drysdale Haugh and the Mackinnons, and that in the face of such intimate +acquaintance further trouble and expense were uncalled for. His +penny-saving thrift, on which he had prided himself all his life, had +come in and forbidden him to expend a few pounds in order to prevent the +risk of thousands, the danger of a life’s efforts and ambitions being +frustrated at the eleventh hour. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +THE SUSPICION BECOMES A CERTAINTY. + + +Auld Tam had not the right to a single one of the advantages on which he +had prided himself. Nothing was his--neither lands nor works, neither +old farmhouse nor modern mansion, nor office in Glasgow--at least, if +any portion of what he had called his remained to him, the claim was so +entangled, and so met and barred by other claims, that he could not +unravel it. + +The Mackinnons had sold, without a right, land and works. Tam had bought +equally without a warrant. He would be entitled to his purchase-money +back again, he supposed, if there was a grain of justice in men’s laws; +but that would be little in comparison to the rents and shares of +profits he might be called on to refund, and the sums of money he had +expended on buildings and improvements which he had made on another +man’s property without his consent, for which there was no reason that +he should have compensation. If the miserable discovery had been made in +other circumstances, there was just a chance that he might have +surmounted it. He might have compounded for wrong done--without any evil +intention on his part--in which as it had happened he had been the most +cruelly wronged, and continued his business an impoverished but not a +ruined man. It was otherwise this year, when, as he had known, he had +need of not only all his available capital, but his unimpaired credit, +to carry him through the pressure occasioned by extravagant outlay and +over-trading, when there were dropping shots of failures on every side, +like minute-guns at sea, gathering gloom on the Exchange, a glutted +market, forced sales, short hours, improvident work-people beginning to +starve without the apology of a strike, stinted indulgences, forbidden +pleasures, haggard faces, heavy hearts, care and doubt, and dread for +what was coming on all hands. + +This was the reverse side of that splendid prosperity of which in its +intoxication men had said, raving, that it would never come to an end; +and Tam, who had seen both sides more than once before, had raved like +the rest, with the least excuse, because he had boasted he had known all +the turns of trade. He had been as blind and besotted as any tyro in +commerce--blinder at the last than his own son Tam, who was new to the +business. He had over-speculated and risked the most daring ventures, +and he would have wanted all the help of a secure position and +untrammelled reserves of power to bring the past year’s undertakings to +a successful issue--to prevent them, like Pharaoh’s lean cattle, +swallowing up their well-fleshed brethren--nay, so to control and compel +them as to make them the instruments of the further building up of his +fortunes, in spite of formidable odds, and of the extension and +preservation of his name for deep sagacity and broadly-calculated +enterprise. + +Auld Tam had still hoped this with a high heart till his conversation +with Mr. Greig in his office. What had been a faintly appalling +suspicion then, was now a crushing reality; and he knew that to confess +it publicly, as he was bound to do, and make restitution of what he had +unawares acquired without the title to do so, meant simply, under +present circumstances, dire ruin, without the hope of retrieving his +losses. He could hardly even escape moral blame. Men might indeed free +him from having been knowingly a party to the illegal transfer of +Drysdale Haugh, which had rebounded so heavily on his own head; but they +would not fail to accuse him of over-confidence and carelessness, and as +‘give a dog a bad name and hang him,’ so they would count as little less +than criminal the magnitude of those far-afield speculations which had, +as it proved, been raised on a foundation of sand, and not of rock. It +would not matter--for the world never stopped to make such +reservations--that he had been as ignorant of the instability of his +foundation when he incurred these obligations, as the humblest bleacher +or printer in his employment. Men would look at the whole story as +giving the lie to the testimony by which they had united in calling him +a prince and a ruler in trade, and had learned to put unbounded faith in +his probity, his judgment, his discretion. + +Tam Drysdale would be ruined without remedy, and he would ruin many +another in his fall--from large firms, linked inseparably with his, to +small contractors who had been his early comrades, like Willie Coates. + +Auld Tam grew dizzy as he contemplated the catastrophe, and tried to +take in all the consequences. Then he said he would sleep upon it, since +it was a thing that no man could take action upon at a moment’s notice. +He replaced the papers in his desk, dropping them as if the fingers +which could no longer retain them were palsied, locked them up, +unfastened his room door, and walked out, feeling for the first time in +his life that he had been up too early, had been in Glasgow at work all +day, and was not so young as he had been. He said as much when he joined +his family in the drawing-room; and his Eppie, glancing up quickly in +his face, noticed, with a sharp pain, that her Tam looked ten years +older since morning. His comely, fresh-coloured face was grey and lined, +his eyes seemed sunken, the very carriage of his head was altered. Could +it be the beginning of a sudden ‘breaking-up’ of his manly frame? She +had heard of such unexpected, untimely breakings-up, specially in men of +active habits, who had done as great things for themselves and their +families as Tam Drysdale had done. It would break her heart for his +sake; but if he were to become prematurely aged and infirm, if waiting +upon him on her ‘bended knees,’ if nursing him every hour of the +twenty-four, if studying every sick man’s idle peevish fancy could +solace him, he should have the solace--she would do it for her goodman, +the lover of her youth, the father of her bairns, with her last breath, +and it would be the greatest comfort left to her. + +After auld Tam’s admission of fatigue, it was natural that he should sit +and rest in his chair, while young Eppie sang softly to him. Her mother +wished she had not chosen ‘The Land o’ the Leal’ for her first song; +indeed, Tam himself interposed as if he could not bear it, saying, + +‘Not that, bairn; can you not give us something less dowie [sad]?’ + +But when Eppie gave him ‘Tak’ your auld cloak about you,’ he failed to +beat time to the tune. + +Tam supped composedly, to all outward appearance, but privately he felt +as if he were swallowing, not to say borrowed, but stolen food, every +morsel of which threatened to choke him. He lay awake during the long +night, hearing every hour strike on the numerous clocks and timepieces +which were no longer his any more than the bed he was stretched upon. It +had been a whim of his to furnish every room with a timepiece, and to +make it his business to see that the time in each case was told +accurately. Now, every clock of them all combined to say that his days +at Drysdale Hall were numbered, that still briefer was the space before +he must tell his wife and children the great reverse which had befallen +them. He had seemed sufficient for them in past years, but after all he +had made a mess of both his own life and theirs. He had brought them up +for a station which they were not called upon to fill; he had +disqualified them from being ordinary working men and women, and he +greatly feared that he could do little or nothing to atone for the +injury he had inflicted where he had meant to confer the greatest +benefit. He had been forgetful in his prosperity that he was growing +more than middle-aged, and all these tokens of time in the rooms, which +were beating and ticking and striking around him, seemed only there to +remind him that the afternoon shadows had fallen across his path, and +that though he would gladly employ what was left of it in toiling to +make another business, and earn a fresh fortune for his children to +spend, soon little more than the evening of life would remain to him. He +could not bring back the past and live again the young, strong life, in +which hardship and self-denial and work which might have tried a horse +were burdens easy to carry, in the light of the confidence which had +never been dashed and the hope that had known no disappointment. + +All the time Eppie was lying ‘waukrife’ (wakeful) by his side, not +stirring an inch, hardly daring to breathe, in case she should waft away +that downy sleep of which she was persuaded her husband stood greatly in +need. She only took it upon her to remonstrate--in vain, though she was +at the same time slightly reassured by his making the exertion and by +the determination with which he persisted in it--when he would rise +betimes, even earlier than his usual hour. + +It was a fine September morning, and Tam strolled out upon the terrace, +before breakfast, and looked about him. Yonder lay his bleach-fields, +with the dew glittering upon the whiteness, into which all the rainbow +colours were merged at this distance. The inhabitants of the thriving +village, the roofs of which were just visible beyond the tree-tops of +Barley Riggs, were dependent upon these fields and the adjoining works +for their daily bread. How would it fare with them when his rule was at +an end? Would the long ‘offisher lad’ Mackinnon, with the drawling +tongue and the indifferent manner, into whose hands Drysdale Haugh must +fall, make anything of it--make more of it than his father had made? +What chance was there? Not the most distant. + +What retribution was this that had come upon him, Tam Drysdale? He had +never willingly wronged a Mackinnon of them; for that matter he had +never, with his knowledge and by his consent, injured any human being. +He had sought all his life to help his neighbours as he had helped +himself. He had exerted himself to save the old Miss Mackinnons from +starvation, which their precious grand-nephew had been too supercilious +a puppy so much as to conceive of, and present a sufficient shield +between the women who had reared him and a beggar’s death. Auld Tam had +interposed a second time to deliver the ladies from the consequences of +their trespass against the law of the land, and had striven his hardest +to rescue them, else they might have been transported beyond the seas at +this day, grey-headed gentlewomen though they were, without their cipher +of a gentleman nephew being able to help it. + +And what had been Tam Drysdale’s reward? That he had planned and +laboured and built and improved, for Guy Mackinnon’s son to enter upon +Tam’s labours, and reap the fruits of the harvest his father had wasted +and sold for his ease and pleasure--as much as ever Esau had sold his +birthright for a mess of pottage. Shall not the Judge of all the earth +do right? Yet He had allowed the legality of Esau’s deed, while He was +going to annul Gavin Mackinnon’s. The God of Bethel had upheld Jacob +after he had sought to clinch his bargain by a barefaced deception, +practised on a blind old man--his own father; but He would forsake Tam +Drysdale. Tam was at the bottom of his heart a sincerely religious man; +but, as often happens, in the great trial of his life his faith was +assailed by such violent gusts of doubt and despair as threatened to +tear the plant up by the roots, and leave it to wither and be burnt like +any worthless weed of accident and habit. + +Near at hand the early morning sun was glinting on the ivy, shrouding +the bit of the building which had belonged to the old farmhouse--the +dwelling of that earlier Drysdale against whom Tam had hitherto borne no +grudge for transferring his property through Beenie Pryde and Maggie +Craig to the Mackinnons. Tam had considered that the man had a right to +do what he liked with his own, and that Tam’s unfortunate father had +justly forfeited any claim of kinship. On the whole, Tam had preferred +that he should win back what had belonged to his progenitors by his +individual industry and ability, so that it might be doubly his. But +now, he felt as if his father’s cousin had been in a conspiracy to +betray him to the Mackinnons, to enable them not only to get their own +out of him, but to serve themselves for long years after he had ceased +to be their servant with his sinews and brains--to end by robbing him of +his best, under no plea except that he had taken what they had not +prized, what they had actually tendered for his acceptance, without the +right to do so. + +On this side of the terrace were the offices and gardens on which their +master had bestowed such pains, where his beasts were lodged like +Christians, and his flowers were the finest in the west-country--for +Eneas Mackinnon to boast of. Great beds of gorgeous autumn dahlias, and +tall hollyhocks, untouched as yet by frost, had been so arranged that +the gazer from the terrace could catch a glimpse of their wealth of size +and colour, and Tam, walking there only yesterday morning, had wondered +if the hanging gardens of Damascus had held anything more stately and +splendid. + +As auld Tam looked, young Eppie came tripping out in her fresh +morning-gown, calling upon her father to praise her for her early +rising, asking if he would not go with her to the orchid-house, which he +had not seen since Neil had done stocking it; and did he know Neil said +the dwarf apricot and peach trees, which he had kept back and was now to +put under glass, would provide the table with peaches and apricots all +the winter, and that the silver sand and peat mould had answered so well +with the rhododendrons, next spring the heads would be as big as +cabbages. Did he think it could be true that he would beat Lady Semple +and everybody at the next year’s flower-shows? + +Auld Tam was restless to set off to Glasgow to his office, though he had +a sense beforehand that there, as here, not only would the glory be +departed, he would look at everything with the eyes of a doomed man. He +would feel like the dying man on whom the irrevocable sentence has +passed, that within a period longer or shorter, measured in this +instance by a refinement of torture with his own hand, he must go forth +and be no longer seen, while the place which had known him, where he had +been happy and honoured, would know him no more. + +Tam wondered, as he drove through the streets, who would miss him, and +for how long they would speak of his rise and fall, as he had heard +other histories spoken of, half as an encouragement, half as a warning. +He passed into his office, the brass plate on the door bearing ‘Messrs. +Thomas Drysdale & Son’ still showing the last two words freshly cut in +the metal. He received the usual respectful greetings as if he were in +some sort a stranger there already, though nobody else knew it--as if +the greetings were not intended for him, but for another person, so that +there was a species of mockery in his accepting them. + +Still, auld Tam was strong enough to make no sign which anyone save a +woman like Eppie the elder, with the intuition of love and the nearness +to the object of her scrutiny which she commanded, could have detected. +Even young Tam was not aware that there was anything amiss with his +father. More than once, as the hours passed by, the younger man admired +the acuteness of perception and the grasp both of present details and +future results which the head of the firm showed in negotiating sundry +extensive transactions that came in the course of the day’s work. For, +fairly launched in the full swing of his engagements, Tam rid himself of +every paralyzing abstraction that had seized hold of him, and was, if +anything, more alert and earnest in business than ever, as if the +prosperity of Drysdale and Son depended upon how he discharged his +customary duties. + +According to what was no infrequent occurrence in auld Tam’s experience, +appeals were made to him on behalf of others engaged in the same +business, and where the interests of trade in general and of some of the +municipal affairs of the city were concerned. He was asked to pronounce +on the dealings of strangers, to give his opinion on clashing theories; +he was invited to take an active part in one of the political questions +which was reckoned of vital moment to the welfare of his townsmen, and +never had the decisions, which were listened to with such flattering +attention, struck the hearers as shrewder, sounder, more unbiased, more +worthy of the man. + +That day’s programme was a sample of many such programmes, for still +auld Tam put off taking action on the discovery he had made. As he had +said to himself that it was not a step to take on the spur of the +moment, he went on to say it was not a step to take on a week or a +month’s notice. A man must have time to set his house in order--such a +great house as Tam had reared and was about to pull down--to think and +plan if nothing could be done to render the overthrow less complete, to +seek the first legal advice in the country, as Tam had been prone to do +in matters of much less moment, and ascertain if there were no +honourable way out of the labyrinth. Yet all the time Tam sickened at +the thought of law and lawyers, and he did not believe that there could +be any loophole for escape. His common-sense, stimulated by the hints +Mr. Greig had given him, convinced the proprietor of Drysdale Haugh +that marriage contracts, about which he had thought so little, must be +made for the most part in the interest of the children of the +contracting parties, to preserve to them their inheritance, and that no +tampering with such legal obligations could be permitted. + +Thus, though Tam told himself that he was waiting to consult the +foremost lawyers, the consultation too was deferred until all at once he +began to ask himself, with a certain fierceness in the question, whether +he were called upon to sacrifice himself and all he held dear. His +Eppie, young Tam, and the rest; his earnings, his reputation, his trade; +‘these sheep’ over at the works, who would suffer in a hundred ways from +being consigned to incapable hands--all to undo the consequences of a +negligence to which Tam could not deny that he had been a party, but +with regard to which he had certainly been the least guilty. If he +obeyed the dictates of a scrupulous conscience, a gross injustice would +be committed. The child of the principal offender, who could never have +missed what he had never possessed or dreamt of possessing, and would +not know what to do with if it were laid at his feet, would reap a huge +profit from the wrong done by his father and mother against him and his +neighbour. + +After Tam had landed himself in this moral quagmire, a new torment beset +him. He was haunted by the presence of Sandy Macnab, the dog-man at +Semple Barns. Go where Tam liked, in the streets of Glasgow, on the +country roads near Drysdale Hall and Semple Barns, Sandy Macnab was +constantly turning up promiscuously very much in the fashion of a +fatality. Of course Tam, in his distempered frame of mind, was liable to +exaggerate the accident; nevertheless it existed. Naturally the sight of +Sandy, with the recollections it conjured up, was not from the first +agreeable to Tam. As time progressed, and the workings of his mind had +reached a certain stage, they began, in spite of him, to present the +strapping, easy-minded, thick-skinned Highlander in the light of an +accomplice forced upon Tam’s notice. Before long the merest glimpse of +the muscular figure, with the erect, almost martial, gait and elastic +step, the swarthy complexion, the roving eye, the fluttering tartans, +became perfectly detestable to the person who had once been full of a +fine serenity, but was fast growing fidgety, testy, and disposed to +consider himself impertinently intruded upon. + +Rather inexplicably, Sandy, who could not be depended upon for fine +feelings, had shown, to begin with, considerable sympathy with auld +Tam’s aversion to encountering him. Sandy, too, had given signs of +trouble at the persistent luck by which he came across the master of +Drysdale Hall in these recent days. It boded no good to +either--according to the Highlander’s superstitious fancies. To be +always running up against a gentleman was a token that you and he had +something more than either of you guessed, perhaps, to do with each +other--something in common to answer for, it might be; and if so, that +retribution was already dogging your steps. + +So Sandy also had practised looking another way and making a pretence of +not seeing his master’s friend. But this becoming shyness and reserve +had not lasted for any length of time. After a short interval Sandy +Macnab rather sought to attract Tam’s attention, and made various +overtures to speak with him--not without a hateful mysteriousness that +defeated its object. Tam resisted indignantly. He was not sunk to this, +that he should have Sandy Macnab for his confidant, and live at his +mercy. Far better let the man tell the little he knew in whatever +quarter he liked, and anticipate the announcement which auld Tam was +never sure that he might not make any day. He only questioned its +righteousness with a sore questioning, and waited till he could satisfy +himself of its propriety; but he would take no blackguard precautions to +conceal the contract which had come by no act of his into his hands, +which he might have destroyed the moment he understood its real bearing, +and nobody been any wiser. It would have been time enough then to make +terms with a groom and dog-man, a forward, swaggering hanger-on of the +gentry; a thick-sculled whelp like Sandy Macnab. But instead, the paper +lay, safe and untampered with, in the desk in Tam’s business-room, ready +for him to produce any day, and to pass on, as he had meant on receiving +it, to ‘the offisher lad Mackinnon.’ + +After the casual encounters had come to have the air of Sandy Macnab’s +being regularly on the outlook for Tam, though the Highlander’s general +deportment was not so much insolently aggressive as shamefacedly +anxious, and as if he had something on his mind to impart; and after +the man had advanced more than once with a scrape of a bow and an +apologetic ‘Gude-day to you, Mr. Drysdale, if you please, sir---- ’ and +Tam had brushed past with a short nod, or an answering ‘Gude-day to you, +Macnab--another time, I’m engaged,’ delivered unwillingly and briefly, +the interruption became more serious. Sandy would not be so easily +dismissed; he stood his ground and persistently pressed for a hearing. +‘I maun have a word wi’ you, Mr. Drysdale; I’ll not keep you a moment.’ + +‘You can have no word with me,’ forbade Tam, sternly and rudely. ‘Man, +do you not see I’m about my proper business?’ (the colloquy was in a +street in Glasgow); ‘I’m not to be stopped by a carle like you.’ + +It was the first time that auld Tam had exhibited his ascent in the +social scale by employing an opprobrious term and behaving with +arrogance to a social inferior. He had been wont to show himself +markedly civil, even gentle, towards the class to which he had formerly +belonged. He was losing his manners as well as his tranquillity in his +tribulation. + +‘But it’s about Rory, sir,’ Sandy explained hurriedly, in an impressive +under-tone. + +‘What have I to do with your Rories?’ protested Tam, in a sudden, +unreasoning fury. ‘He may gang to the deevil if he likes, and you too; +it is no business of mine. You know you did me out of a sum of money +because a daft caird [mad tramp] in the country you hail from had a +parcel of stolen auld papers--which were nothing to me--that he had +travelled sooth with, expecting me, or some other fule with money in his +pockets, to buy them. That I was so far left to mysel’ is no warrant for +you to waylay me in the open street and pester me about a rogue and +vagabond. If he had gotten his deserts I should have handed him over to +the police, with you in his company. Stand out of my road, sir, or I’ll +speak to Sir Jeames about this nuisance.’ + +Sandy Macnab gave way instantly, looking not so much indignant as +confounded, which he well might be. + +‘Is the honest man in a frenzy?’ he asked himself. ‘Sir Jeames, when he +has risen aff his wrong side, is nothing to him. Yet I’ve aye heard that +this bleacher billie [fellow] was a douce chiel and easy to deal with. I +did not find him so ill to get on wi’ when I gave him a ca’ at his +place; no, though puir Rory was maist rampageous, and the gentleman was +a thocht hard upon me for maistering the craytur. Where would he have +been without me? I’m thinking I’ve stood his friend from first to last, +though I may have put my fit into the business this time. Is’t siller +that makes the gentleman--auld Tam as they ca’ him--neither to haud nor +to bind when his contered [crossed], or is it because he cam’ out of the +gutter? I’m thinking it maun be the last, for his son, that is his +partner and maun have the pouch [purse] in his turn, is a ceevil enough +spoken lad. He will have learned the manners of gentlemen, and not care +to rage like a bull of Bashan when there is no occasion for it. If there +had been cause the thing would have been different. A man can forgie a +round of curses when there is sufficient provocation. It’s a faut that +the highest in the land may fa’ into without prejudice. But just because +he was asked with a’ respect to stand still and lend an ear, it is +preposterous. Weel, I’ve dune my best to make a clean briest and quiet +Bawby Sed’s wake mind, but a wilfu’ man maun have his way, and if ill +come of it the wyte’s [blame’s] none of mine.’ + +Sandy Macnab ceased from that day to thrust himself on Tam’s notice or +to crave speech with him; but the incident had made a painful +impression, which rankled in Tam’s memory. Among all the misery of this +time he could not shake off the apprehension that the annoyance would +repeat itself--that it had a motive which he had yet to fathom. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +IN THE BALANCE. + + +The world went on much the same this autumn, though everything under the +sun was altered to Tam Drysdale, as he knew. The slight sprinkling of +grey, which had been all that had appeared formerly in his brown hair, +was on the road to become a heavy powdering of white. + +A wistful light had crept into the happy eyes of the elder Eppie, which +were now so often resting, as she would have said, stowlins [by stealth] +on her husband. Her rampant prosperity was subdued by a hidden sorrow. +Something was wrong with her Tam which she could not divine; she only +knew that he did not come to her for consolation; so she supposed the +evil, whatever it might be, was beyond her power of alleviation, and she +was silently sorry, with a meek devoted woman’s unscorning, ungrudging +pity. + +Mrs. Drysdale was not half so fine or nearly so ridiculous as she had +been. What did she care for finery when there was something amiss with +Tam? And as she ceased to pay heed to the good things of her position, +and the suitable deportment they called for from her, her vulgarity was +toned down, and she lost much of her self-consciousness and superficial +affectation. A new charm was added to her other attractions. Something +like the dawning of dignity--the dignity of indifference to the +accidents of circumstance, and of a soul occupied by higher +things--began to show itself in Eppie. But these were subtle signs, and +they were the sole indication that anything had happened; though they +might be indirectly felt, they were not distinctly recognised. + +Drysdale Hall was, to all outward appearance, the same as it had ever +been since it was created by its present owner; and since young +Tam and Clary had grown up, bringing with them fresh life and +movement--animated, full of the thrills and throbs of passion in natures +endowed with the strength and ardour of their early prime, even while it +was most divergent and discordant where the general current was +concerned. And now a new figure in the second generation--young Eppie, +in her simplicity and sweetness, was hovering on the threshold of that +flight into the world which boys and girls must take sooner or later. + +As the tides obey the moon, so do the lower strata of society answer to +the higher, though the distance between them is more or less great, and +there are no conspicuous points of union. Because Parliament is up, and +London deserted by the upper ten thousand in September, so those who are +not in Parliament, and have nobody connected with them affected by its +sitting and rising, choose that season when the daylight is beginning to +shorten and the moderate heat to cool, when wild flowers are mostly gone +and birds have ceased to sing, for their annual holiday and their +sojourn in the country. Rural resorts which have no call to answer to +the necessities of legislators become inundated with temporary residents +who have not even the excuse of being bandsters [binders of corn], or +theekers [thatchers] of stacks, or peripatetic owners of +thrashing-machines, and are callous to all the delights of June with her +long days and broomy braes, and July with her meridian heat, her +bluebells by the wayside, and her dog-roses in the hedgerows. But there +is one glory gilding the fall of the year, that exists alike for gentle +and simple of the more combative sex. It is not compelled by the +breaking-up of Parliament, the partial closing of Government offices, +the vacations of the law courts, though it does much in its turn to +compel these pauses in the business of the country. The name of this +potent charmer is ‘Sport,’ which reigns from the 12th of August to the +last hunt of the advancing spring. The enchantress is rampant in her +sway when the moors, the turnip-fields, the coverts, are possessed by an +army of men in shooting-jackets, with staghounds and pointers for their +allies, and the air is full of the bang of small artillery. + +St. Mungo’s City is not an exception to the rest of the world, in the +desire to kill the beautiful wild creatures of the hills and the fields. +After Glasgow has poured her swarms ‘down the water,’ in early summer, +she sends fresh swarms of the wealthier grades to render the heather and +the stubble alive with more than deer and grouse, hares and pheasants. +Autumn always brought a pleasant excitement of company and gaiety to +Drysdale Hall, with crowded breakfast-tables, meetings at the scene of +action, open-air luncheons, frequent guests to dinner, little dances +when there were enough young people in the house. Doubtless the fashion +was borrowed from Semple Barns, where members of Parliament on the wing +did alight on occasion, and refresh their nervous systems, exhausted by +services to the nation, with tramping through briars and brambles, +leaping over ditches, and bringing down partridges. + +Auld Tam commanded a little good shooting on his property, and he rented +a moor within two hours’ journey by railway, on which active men, +accustomed both to business and hunting hours, starting with the lark +and reaching their destination before the dew was dry on the red ling, +could traverse the ground, fill creditable bags, and be back to dinner +several times a week, from the 12th to the 1st, when prey nearer home +afforded the coveted pursuit without the sacrifice of a railway journey. + +Tam Drysdale hardly took his gun in his hand this season, but in the +other direction young Tam allowed himself greater indulgence in the +natural propensity of the biped that can pull a trigger. The only +eccentricity he displayed was that he was quick to share moor and +shooting with any of his managers who had taken out licenses, and that +the son kept up the father’s practice in the disposal of the spoil of +his gun. Instead of sending the game to fetch a fair price in the +Glasgow poultry-shops, he despatched what did not find its way to the +Drysdale Hall larder, to Dr. Peter Murray for distribution among his +patients, or to the appreciative wives and families of bleachers and +dyers who would otherwise have had little chance of tasting hare or +pheasant that was honestly come by. + +Young Tam was not left to cope with the fowls of the air and the hares +and the rabbits of the pasture single-handed, save for his subordinates +or his Glasgow acquaintance who could exchange a shooting with him. +Eneas Mackinnon, who was understood to be indebted to his friends for +such sport as he got, came over with Dick Semple whenever they were not +better employed elsewhere. + +A far more brilliant ally arrived in good time. Sir Hugo Willoughby had +kept his word. He had reappeared just when he had said he would, and was +making himself more popular than ever by declining to herd with his kind +and by casting in his lot with the young Glasgow men. In fact, he kept +hovering in the immediate vicinity of St. Mungo’s City, with its roar of +traffic, its smoky abominations, its boisterous superfluity and +ostentation. He defied Guy Horsburgh, who began to look uneasy in the +office of bear-leader, which he had taken upon himself, to wile him, Sir +Hugo, to any distance--to induce him to take a yachting voyage to +Iceland or a walking tour in Ross or Sutherland--to try a bout of +deer-stalking in any of the deer forests, the tenants of which were +friends of his. He would not even go down with Guy to that Court in +Lincolnshire which he had often proposed to show to his friend, where +Lady Willoughby sat lonely in her castle hall, awaiting her truant son +in vain, and where preserves choke-full of all the lowland game which +could satisfy the heart of a man or the muzzle of a gun were wasting +their sweetness on the desert air, and calling loudly for an absent, +inconsiderate squire to diminish the _embarras des richesses_, else he +would have a host of farmers, his natural allies, rising up in open +rebellion against him. Not above a certain radius of miles would Sir +Hugo budge from Glasgow--Glasgow in August and September, not Glasgow +down-the-water, fresh with sea and mountain breezes, but Glasgow inland, +with her thick carpet of grimy dust and her black pall of filthy +smoke--Glasgow squalid, careworn, miserable, when the depression of +trade caused the fitful rattle of the machinery to sound eerie and +hollow as when slaves shake their chains, and the sweat of men’s brows +began to gather in the big drops of despair. There was nothing more +terrible to fear save the silence of death, when a great strike +testifies to the revolt of one class and the rending asunder of two. + +It might have been that young Sir Hugo was so true a philosopher and so +promising a patriot that he was bent on becoming acquainted with all +shades of life in one of the great trade centres which he had elected to +study. But so far as this went, Sir Hugo turned his back on the city and +was engrossed with the wonders of his own young existence. At this time +he neither knew nor cared much for its sins and sorrows, cherishing a +sanguine hope that they would all cure themselves somehow, and be mended +by an alchemy with which he had nothing to do. It was the neighbourhood +of Glasgow, and not Glasgow itself, to which he was nailed. The +Horsburghs had their country-house not far from Drysdale Hall, and +though it was the most commonplace of modern dwellings, he was content +with it. + +Be it said also that Sir Hugo had returned to his first love--to the +pursuit of the Cinderella who had fled from him in the Drysdale Hall +picture-gallery, the ‘young thing, just come frae her mammy,’ who had +sung to him in the Drysdale Hall drawing-room. He had called Athole +Murray charming, but he had forgotten her wit long before he saw her +face again. It was the recollection of young Eppie’s guileless +sweetness, combined with her spring-time loveliness, which he called +divine, that had taken fast hold of his mind. + +Sir Hugo could not display these inclinations without causing a flutter +of marvel and speculation; but first when he came back auld Tam took no +further notice of the young man, about whom he had made such a fuss at +Easter, than if he had been an ordinary mortal. It seemed as if a +benumbing power was at work on the master of Drysdale Hall. He became +cold and passive to what would formerly have roused him to hot and +strong approbation or opposition. He made no more sign of displeasure at +the continued presence of Eneas Mackinnon at Drysdale Hall, than of +pleasure at the pertinacity with which Sir Hugo Willoughby seized every +opportunity of renewing his visits. Not the lifting of a finger, the +flicker of an eyelid, the raising of the voice, uttered an imperative +protest when young Tam showed again his exclusive preference for Barley +Riggs among the houses of his acquaintance, and, under pretext of +watching some chemical experiments conducted by Dr. Peter in his +laboratory, spent three evenings of the week there. + +It was as if a dull indifference was settling down on auld Tam--a +strange insensibility to what had been wont to affect him in the +liveliest manner. His wife, who but for him would have been at the +height of a mother’s mingled pride and pain, quivering with excitement +like the youngest hero or heroine among them, whose fortune was hanging +in the balance, grew more and more puzzled, chilled, frightened, by +Tam’s want of sympathy, even of angry interest, in the affairs of his +children at what looked like a turning-point in their destiny. + +Clary, who had braced herself for a contest--violent while it +lasted--had her whole ideas upset by finding that there was apparently +to be no altercation--she was to be let alone to go her own ways. It was +not an inspiriting change to a woman of her temperament, and she was the +next thing to piqued by it. If she had cared only for asserting her +will, and had not been thoroughly honest, with a capacity for +steadfastness where her affections were placed, she might have been +driven to give up Eneas Mackinnon. + +As for Eneas, in spite of all the encouragement that a young proud woman +could give him, he had been tempted to hang back, in an agony of +mortified self-respect, sensitiveness and shame, from the inevitable +explanation and the almost equally inevitable accusation of presumption +and unworthy motives on his part, which the announcement to auld Tam +would call forth. Eneas, too, was dumbfounded, and in some degree +overwhelmed by the amnesty that was granted to him. Was he to go on +shooting Tam Drysdale’s partridges on the land which had belonged to +Eneas’s mother, eating auld Tam’s dinners--the usual end to the day’s +shootings--making love to his beautiful capable daughter, with her free +consent, under her father’s very nose, or was Eneas to fail Claribel and +withdraw at the last moment, vanquished by the strange trust put in him? + +Young Tam was lordlier in his behaviour. He acted as if he did not see +that his father had any right to dispose of his son’s spare time or +modify his taste for this or that company. He made no bones of going +over to Barley Riggs. He did not condescend to the smallest concealment. +He had even the coolness to borrow his father’s lantern on a dark rainy +night, looking auld Tam in the face as the son proffered the request, +telling the owner where the light was to guide the willing feet that +scouted a carriage, and were ready to trudge through wind and rain to +reach their goal. + +‘Tak’ the lantern, laddie. You’ll find it in the harness-room,’ said Tam +gruffly, but without boiling over, without even wincing, though he let +his head drop a little on his breast. + +Was nothing else worth caring for so long as that thing hung over his +head? Might his children all come and go--they for whom he had striven, +who were as the apple of his eye, whom not so long ago he would fain +have curbed and bent to force them into other channels than those they +had formed for themselves, for the lad and lass’s good? Could they do as +they liked for anything their father cared, he was so hopeless and +heartless for them, for himself, for the whole world? + +Dr. Peter, in wholesome unconsciousness, was as blind as ever; and all +that Athole Murray did was to laugh at young Tam till the tears came +into her own eyes, to twit him with his opinions and performances, to +shut herself up with her patterns, pets, and books, and excuse herself +from coming to see the retorts, disappointing both of the operators--to +keep away from Drysdale Hall and every other place where she was likely +to encounter the young man. + +But Athole was beginning to meet her match. Tam the younger was fast +out-growing that sour effervescence of greenness and youth to which Dr. +Peter had once alluded. The junior partner in Drysdale and Son’s was +losing his self-consciousness and susceptibility. He was settling down +into calm, strong manhood, knowing what it wanted, and not to be easily +turned from seeking to supply its wants. Young Tam was ceasing to mind +Athole’s flouts. He had advanced so far as to smile at them--a little +grimly, perhaps, but still to smile and go on his way without being in +the slightest degree deterred by her bearing. He did not mean to show +it, but a certain quiet, far from unhappy masterfulness was stealing +into his looks and tones. She did not know that she betrayed it, but a +certain humility and nervousness, which were not altogether unhappy +either, though the unacknowledged restraint provoked and affronted her, +lurked under her most audacious sally and sharpest repartee. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +A DROWNING MAN’S STRAWS. + + +It was none of the persons chiefly concerned, but a mere looker-on, who, +without in the least understanding the case, awoke auld Tam from his +lethargy, and gave his troubled mind a new bias. + +Lady Semple, with her natural versatility, had long ago renounced her +projects for Claribel as the destined Lady Willoughby. Lady Semple had, +not without reason, made up her mind instead that Claribel Drysdale +ought to marry Mr. Mackinnon. Her father could not really disapprove of +the poor match for his elder daughter, else he would not have allowed +her to come prominently forward, as she had come, to the help of the +unfortunate old ladies. Nothing would warrant such compromising conduct +in a young lady except an attachment, of which, indeed, her ladyship had +not been without her suspicions at an earlier date, to be speedily +followed by the announcement of an engagement to the grand-nephew. + +Lady Semple went on to argue the matter in all its bearings. It was a +magnificent instance of mercantile liberality and generosity in a man +whom she had always admired and esteemed, whom she was proud to call her +friend as well as her neighbour. It would be a splendid thing for Dick’s +friend--an interposition of Providence on his behalf and the making of +him. And it was quite a romance on Claribel’s part. Lady Semple herself +was not romantic, but when wealthy parents countenanced romance the +principal objection to it was removed, and the most prudent third person +might follow suit without compunction. + +Lady Semple would certainly stand by Claribel when she was Mrs. +Mackinnon, both for the sake of Dick and his friend, and because of her +ladyship’s regard for the young lady. There would be no loss of prestige +for her, since the poorest officer’s wife would rank with the daughter +of the richest dyer and cotton-printer any day; and Mr. Drysdale’s money +would not come amiss, though unluckily promotion was no longer to be +bought. The thinker meant unluckily only in this instance; she was an +advanced Liberal in politics, and had been almost as anxious for the +abolition of the purchase system as for vote by ballot, though she knew +it would be a blow to a number of her nephews. Dick was an only son, and +he would soon leave the army; he had only adopted it _pour passer le +temps_, and because all men were the better of being trained to a +profession--she would say a trade, if she had her way. + +The Mackinnons--Mr. Mackinnon and his wife--would probably continue in +the army; but if her father settled a regular income upon her, as a man +of his sense and kindness was sure to do, it would not signify much +although he never got beyond the rank of a captain or major. She did not +suppose he would pass higher by merit, though he was a thoroughly good +fellow, fit to be a general where a man’s tone rather than his talent +was concerned. He would make a good steady husband. She had always been +glad that Dick had chosen such a safe friend. Claribel would see the +world with her husband’s regiment, in which she would be a great force; +though it was bad form now to talk of the belle of a regiment--all that +had gone out with promotion by purchase and idle young men with their +practical jokes, pigeon-shooting, and regimental balls. It was out of +date even in fast novels. Officers had now their work to do if they +wished to get on like other men, which was much better for them. But +Claribel would not be tied down. She would have the opportunity of +learning at first hand a variety of things which she, Lady Semple, had +missed mastering. She was tempted to envy her young friend. + +What would Sir Hugo do? Oh, Sir Hugo had found out that for himself, and +it was the most delightful solution possible of the difficulty. He would +woo and win young Eppie--the simplest, most artless of little girls. She +was so young, that she could be easily trained, while her transference +to polite circles would have a thousand times more novelty and charm +than Claribel’s transplantation could have had. It would be a genuine +romance--though Lady Semple was not in the least romantic, any more than +Eppie was a beggar-maid. Still, Sir Hugo was a King Cophetua in his way, +and only the knowledge of what a dear daughter the young girl, who was +devoted to her own good rustic mother, would make to darling unworldly +Lady Willoughby, with her widowed life and her devotion to her son, +could fully reconcile Lady Semple to the _mésalliance_. + +Then Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale need not be left alone. That Trojan of a son +of theirs--who had resisted her ladyship’s blandishments and those of +the Vaughan girls, who had given in to his father by going into +business--had become, as she had heard, auld Tam’s right hand. He ought +to bring over that independent, original Miss Murray, the daughter of +clever, innocent Dr. Peter. She was a girl whom Lady Semple was dying to +know better. She might be of the greatest assistance to her ladyship in +getting up her Rational Dress Association. Athole would prove a fair +substitute for the loss of Claribel to her friend, as well as for the +double loss of Claribel and Eppie to their parents. + +Having arrived at this triumphant conclusion, Lady Semple felt so sure +of her ground that she could not imagine herself making mischief by +putting in her oar. She first tried a series of broad hints to Mrs. +Drysdale. But Mrs. Eppie was so engrossed with the prospect of the +fulfilment of her dreams, so distracted between freshly awakened +tenderness for Clary, trembling exultation over young Eppie, vexation +with young Tam, and trouble about auld Tam, that, candid woman though +she was, it seemed impossible to draw an admission from her, as a step +towards offering her friendly congratulations. + +Thus foiled, Lady Semple, in her high satisfaction, ventured to have +recourse to auld Tam. + +It was one evening when the whole _dramatis personæ_ of Lady Semple’s +genteel comedy were together in the old-fashioned drawing-room at Semple +Barns. So most of them had been on a previous evening, when Tam +Drysdale’s eyes had been opened to the enormity of a penniless officer +of the Mackinnon stock having rendered himself so agreeable to Clary +that he had melted her pride and disordered her understanding, and when +her father had scowled on the couple, and angrily told his wife that he +would not have such doings. + +The summer had done Sir James good, and he was able to meet company. He +had quite a knot of old friends--from London, from Edinburgh (where the +Court of Session was up, like the Parliament in London), from India, +helping Dick to dispose of the birds. Lady Semple had her neighbours and +friends to meet the greater strangers: the Drysdales--the whole of them +on this occasion; Dr. Peter and Athole Murray, whom her hostess was so +desirous of cultivating; Sir Hugo Willoughby, with Guy Horsburgh; Eneas +Mackinnon, with the son of the house. + +Lady Semple was an accomplished hostess, but her skill was wasted this +evening, for her guests gave her little trouble; they arranged +themselves according to their own wishes, and hers, without an effort. +The old friends mustered round Sir James’s card-table, which he could +again enjoy, enlivening the pauses during the deals by reminiscences of +the past, extracts from their intermediate experience, anticipations of +the next day’s sport. + +Round games for young people were exploded, but there had been an +attempt to try the last play of thought-reading, which had only broken +down because nobody seemed to care to have his or her thought read; +everybody seemed to be more anxious to ascertain his or her neighbour’s. + +Eneas Mackinnon wanted to learn what Claribel Drysdale was thinking as +she inspected the condition of that oddest of sentimental souvenirs--a +hair album, which Lady Semple had once set up. + +Sir Hugo Willoughby desired to penetrate what had been young Eppie’s +fancies as the liquid notes of her voice, which she had been pouring +forth at the piano, near which he was hovering, died away. A few moments +ago she had silenced the whole murmur of sound. The great roomful of old +and young, grave and gay, married and single, men and women of the +world, and men and women whom nothing would make worldly, had listened +breathlessly to the expression of the simple faith of a homely, +hard-working breadwinner for some poor family: + + ‘When Jock and Jean and Janetie, + Are up and gotten lear, + They’ll help to mak’ the boatie row, + And lighten a’ our care. + Then weel may the boatie row, + And better may it speed, + And weel may the boatie row + That wins the bairnies’ breed.’ + +But surely even Eppie, with the clear mirror of her innocent mind +unruffled by a cloud of passion, must have a conception of the time when +Jock and Jean and Janetie were not only up and had ‘gotten lear,’ but +entertained dreams and a life of their own apart from the visions and +the life of the most loving of parents--when the children were in train +to fulfil the Bible prophecy, that a man will leave father and mother +and cleave to his wife. + +Young Tam sought to realize what Athole Murray meant when she told with +such merry eloquence to Dr. Peter, in the younger man’s hearing, her +determination to set agoing a _Haus Chronik_, such as she had read of in +a German book. It was to be a Home Chronicle of which the pages stood +for the years of her life. She would put the leading scene of the year +by means of pencil and brush on the appointed page. For instance, her +father’s being thrown by Lady Fair when the train went across Aytoun +Brig; or herself finding the old iron pot in the garden, which had +formed such a delicious study of rusty-brown ever since. Another +incident might be Jeannie’s refusing the baker’s man at the +kitchen-door; because if Jeannie had said ‘Yes, if you please,’ the +domestic economy of Barley Riggs would have sustained a severe shock. +Oh! he need not think that nobody would understand her compositions, or +be the wiser for them, because she was to write in old characters--now +her handwriting was fairly readable in modern, so it need not be wholly +illegible in old characters--the details of that annual great event, so +that he who ran could read and be instructed. + +Would Jeannie and the baker’s man be the only couple who were to figure +in the Barley Riggs Home Chronicle, if it ever had a being save in +Athole’s busy brain? and must the scene always be a dismissal? + +Mrs. Drysdale also was looking across at her husband, as if to ask him +the reason why he drew apart from the other elderly man present, and +stood with his hands behind his back gazing, not on the card-table, but +on vacancy. + +The husband and wife did not look so much _au fait_ to each other’s +minds as they had once looked to a comical extent, or so inclined to +refer to each other. The change might easily be when there was such an +inroad of exciting elements into their family life, on which it was just +possible the couple might hold different views. + +Anyhow, matrimonial confidences were not desirable in general company; +so Lady Semple adroitly got rid of the matron by sending Dick to pay +her a little attention, and herself tried to ‘tackle’ auld Tam. She went +up to him as he moved on, until he stood before a picture of Dick Semple +when a boy on his pony, which the critic had contemplated a hundred +times. + +Lady Semple made the portrait the text of her remarks. ‘Do you see any +resemblance still, Mr. Drysdale? Oh, these boys and girls, how they run +away from us, and how hard it is for us fathers and mothers to be left +behind!’ + +‘Mr. Dick is not going to run away from you, mem.’ + +Tam gave the general observation an individual application with stupid +literalness. + +‘Oh no! not Dick--not yet awhile, I hope,’ said his mother hastily; +‘though he no longer thinks his father’s word law, and his mother’s +praise does not send him to bed as happy as a king--and it will come to +that soon--that other going away from us, and settling in life on his +own account, which seems to sunder so many ties. Yet what would you +have, Mr. Drysdale?’ continued her ladyship, unconsciously adopting the +same line of argument which Mrs. Drysdale had formerly used; ‘we cannot +stand in our children’s way. We cannot stay with them always, so why +should we seek to keep them with us? It is better--though it is not +altogether pleasant, is it?--that they should leave us. But where +everybody is agreed, where everything is more than suitable,’ murmured +Lady Semple, ‘where the whole arrangements are simply charming, and +there is so much to rejoice at, to be truly thankful for, I can only +wish you joy, my dear sir.’ + +Tam looked up amazed, uncertain, when, as if they were passing before +him in a panorama, the groups around him caught his eye in quick +succession. His glance roamed from one to another, comprehensively, +conclusively. There was a twitch of his eyebrows, he compressed his lips +and thrust his chin a little forward in his eagerness to see what was +happening. His eyes were still a little dazzled, but they were no +longer incapable of receiving a vivid impression. He had shaken off the +brown study which had engrossed him; a new idea had come to him; he was +full of it and of how it might help him in his strait. But he only said +to Lady Semple: + +‘Not so fast, my leddy, mem--joy is not to be wished every day; we keep +it for great occasions.’ + +‘But you own it is only a question of time. Oh, I must wish you much +joy, Mr. Drysdale!’ cried Lady Semple, enchanted to find herself, as she +supposed, correct in what she had conjectured, inclined to look upon the +contemplated result as accomplished, feeling as if she had made all +these marriages, and that each marriage was in its own way a feat to be +proud of. But she had the discretion not to urge Tam further, and to +leave him to digest in peace the meal she had provided for him. + +It was a meal, under the circumstances. Lieutenant Mackinnon and Clary! +Auld Tam remembered what he had thought of that connection before, but +now all the reasons against it were more than annulled. If he gave Clary +to young Mackinnon, with the fortune that he might yet hope to bestow, +supposing that he were left to grapple with, overcome, and outlive the +bad times, without the horrible necessity of having to give back +Drysdale Haugh to Mackinnon, with such fines and forfeits in addition as +would have shaken the prosperity of the best-established firm in +Glasgow--would it not compensate, not for inadvertently depriving him of +his mother’s property, which might well be forgiven, but for the +iniquity of retaining it, after he--auld Tam--knew full well it was none +of his? What would ‘the offisher lad’ have more than the girl he loved, +or ought to love, from his pretensions--and Clary was a fine lass, +‘handsome and edicate,’ a lass to act for herself and him too, a boon to +any man, far more than a match for the stick of a lad she had set her +fancy on? And what would the like of young Mackinnon do with Drysdale +Haugh if he got it? Make a mess of it, as his father had done before +him; waste all that auld Tam had brought the place to; pull down +everything that he had built up, and be glad in the end to rid himself +of the inheritance, and sell it to some poor, ambitious chiel who could +put his hand to the plough like one whom auld Tam had known, as Gavin +Mackinnon had sold it. + +But Mackinnon and Clary were not the only couple. There was young Tam +hanging like a bee about a flower on that ‘braw, clever, ill-faured +lass,’ Athole Murray. Well, the Murrays were mixed up with the old +transaction, which loomed so largely in Tam’s mind that it blotted out +every other. The Murrays had to do with the selling of the works to Tam +Drysdale, in spite of the marriage contract which held them for the +issue of Margaret Craig. Tam had been hammering his brains all these +weeks, in vain, to determine how much or how little the Murrays were +involved, and what he had to answer for to them. Dr. Peter’s father, +Gavin Mackinnon’s partner, had been concerned with him in the sale, not +of the farm, which had belonged to Mrs. Mackinnon, but of the buildings +and plant used in the business, and the business itself, in which he was +a partner. Could Murray’s descendants also come on Tam for their share +in the profits of the dyeing and calico-printing since the sale? On the +other hand, could not Tam require from the Murrays their proportion of +the purchase-money, which they in their turn might claim from the +Mackinnons, since the Murrays also had been misled in the disposal of +the business? + +It was a complication of interests and injuries which Tam could not +unravel. The strong head, which had worked out so many calculations +without a throb, ached with the strain. But this he seemed to foresee +clearly, that if the matter were laid before Dr. Peter, that upright and +uncompromising soul would never rest till he had sifted it to the +bottom, and apportioned to every man his due, though in the process a +great business might be frittered away, and the capital which the +present crisis in trade ought to have appropriated to itself would only +be rescued from the wreck, to be parted into fractions of which nobody +would be the better except a set of lawyers. Dr. Peter would count any +loss in the name of strict integrity well lost. + +But if young Tam were ‘yoked’ with Athole Murray, might not that flea be +left to stick in the wall, without any further qualms of conscience? +Athole’s promotion to be the wife of as fine a fellow as ever lived, the +future head of a great business, would far outweigh any debatable +advantage the Murrays might gain--not that Tam imagined Dr. Peter greedy +of an advantage--by joining with young Mackinnon in compelling Tam to +make restitution. And Dr. Peter was a man and a father--his lassie’s +welfare must be something, must be a great deal to him; if it would not +altogether shut his truth-speaking mouth, it must render him more +lenient, more manageable, should the real state of the case ever come to +light. + +Then the marriage would make Tam’s lad happy, would atone to him for the +loss of his father; for it was one of the most bitter drops infused into +auld Tam’s full cup, in the tremendous change which had suddenly +darkened the broad sunshine of his prosperity, and rendered all his good +things worthless to him, to be forced to comprehend that, having found +his son, it was only to lose him again. There had been till recently +many business confidences between them, in which auld Tam had been proud +to think that his hands were clean, and that he had not to soil young +Tam’s by the contact. He had never dabbled in business ruses which could +not bear repetition to uncorrupted ears. But here was an affair which +could not stand being looked into, which must remain a secret, and rise +up as a barrier between the father and his son for the term of their +lives. Very likely, if the story chanced to be approached--and what +secret was not approached sooner or later?--it would demand more +sacrifices from him of deliberate, habitual deception and brazen +falsehood to maintain the central lie. How could he look young Tam in +the face if it were so, when the father had begun already in his misery +to skulk away from one of the creatures he loved best in the world? And +he had a full-hearted, despairing conviction that young Tam, hot-headed +as he had been, independent as he was, would miss his father’s +friendship, little worth as it was--would want a perfect mate in a wife, +the desire of his heart, to make up to him for the snapping of the +primitive tie which, when it is of true metal, is of the consistency of +iron. + +Last of all, there was Tam Drysdale’s youngest child, his bonnie bairn +Eppie, with the splendid prospect of marrying Sir Hugo Willoughby, and +being removed far beyond the range of commercial storms, safely landed +among the aristocracy, in the august shadow of the Throne itself, as Tam +dreamed. If he could only hold out till that achievement was +accomplished, till little Eppie’s grand fortune was secured, and her +mother left to her care, for young Eppie would never see her mother +suffer, then he could be content to die--not in peace--this was not a +question of peace, but stubborn and silent. For what had auld Tam done +that he should demolish his name and fame and ruin his children to +enrich Gavin Mackinnon’s son? But he would enrich Gavin Mackinnon’s son, +and what more could be required of him? + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +AULD TAM ‘FEY.’ + + +Auld Tam came out of his shell in a fever of forced spirits, with a +restless desire to be doing something. It looked like a boisterous, +nearly wild gaiety, which caused his friends to stare and almost to +stand aghast. Tam would again get up extravagant entertainments for Sir +Hugo, who had by this time made himself so much at home at Drysdale +Hall, that it was a bore to him to be treated like a comparative +stranger, and ranked still as a guest. + +But Tam would have entertained the whole world in his present frame of +mind; anything was sufficient for an excuse to bring people together, to +establish general good-fellowship, to give ample opportunities of +meeting and settling matters, to individuals who hankered after such +encounters. The _raison d’être_ was to force on the business in hand, +till what might have tarried and languished, been blighted by unexpected +contrary winds and perished in spite of its early promise, was brought +to a swift, irresistible conclusion. + +The master of Drysdale Hall was not satisfied with ordinary +entertainments. He cudgelled his brains and scoured the city and country +for something to show, something to visit, something to make merry over. +Auld Tam blossomed all at once into being the patron of half-a-dozen +societies, demanding dinners and suppers and balls from their munificent +patron, with Drysdale Hall for the headquarters of such members as were +pressed into the service of these feasts. + +Notwithstanding plenty of evidence that Guy Horsburgh had long ago +enabled Sir Hugo Willoughby to ‘do’ Glasgow thoroughly, Tam was struck +with a sudden patriotic zeal lest any place should have been passed by. +He insisted on making up parties of a heterogeneous description, +including all and sundry, among them the oppressed Sir Hugo, to ‘do’ +Glasgow over again--engineers’ shops, sugar-refiners’ premises, +cotton-mills, without mercy--the whole at an unpropitious epoch. And the +sightseers were sure to return in a body to profit by the lavish +hospitality of Drysdale Hall, grown excessive to the exercising the soul +of the housekeeper and the wearying of the spirit of Mrs. Drysdale. +There might have been no such thing as bad trade, to judge from the +joviality and regardlessness of domestic expenses which auld Tam was +exhibiting. + +A launch was announced in one of the shipyards, to which Tam not only +had access, but was complimented by being asked to let one of his family +name the vessel. He consented readily, giving the honour to Clary, and +at the last moment bidding Mr. Mackinnon guide her arm, which was +steady enough in itself. But Eneas’s hand shook in the duty confided to +him, till Claribel told him reproachfully if she had not been firmer +than he was, he would have caused her to swerve in her aim, and dash the +bottle of wine against the stays instead of the side of the vessel, so +that the good ship _Claribel_ must have gone forth unchristened and +luckless to meet her fate on the high seas. + +Auld Tam took to coveting more pictures for his gallery, and, losing +faith in his native discernment and considerable experience, sallied +forth, accompanied by a train of people, to consult on the merits of the +pictures for sale in a west-country gallery which had come to the +hammer. Very probably Tam was right that, after himself, Athole Murray +was the best judge among his motley followers. But he deferred to her +till her ears, which she could not believe, began to tingle, her teeth +were set on edge, and she was reduced to talking nonsense, when he +bought the worst picture in the lot on her jesting recommendation. +Immediately afterwards, in the hearing of everybody, he presented the +picture to young Tam as the ‘handsel’ to a new room which had been +fitted up for him. Why, young Tam gaped, even as Athole’s face fell, +grew white, and took an absolutely scared look. + +Auld Tam became as incapable of buying flowers as of purchasing pictures +unsupported by a circle of friends, while he refused to delegate the +commission to his head-gardener. Tam summoned the two Eppies, Athole +Murray, and Clary if she chose, to attend him to the West of Scotland +Autumn Flower Show, and signified graciously to the young men within +earshot of the arrangement that if they had an eye for ‘geranums’ and +‘gladioly’ they might look in at the show and repair to Ferguson’s for +luncheon afterwards. Sir Hugo at least looked in and praised the display +up to the skies, all because of a certain Scotch rose which was +infinitely captivating to him. Young Eppie was struck by a new +pelargonium, of which not only did her father buy many specimens from +the nurseryman who was its fortunate introducer, but Sir Hugo was +convinced that it would be a great addition to the geraniums at +Willoughby Court, and that his mother would like the variety immensely. +He, too, bought largely, when the seller, apprised of the rank of his +customer and full of visions of his geraniums becoming the fashion in +the great world, paid the same compliment to Sir Hugo that the +shipbuilder had paid to auld Tam. The nurseryman offered the young +English baronet the name of the yet nameless flower. Sir Hugo hesitated, +and glanced from the one to the other with sparkling eyes and a word +trembling on the tip of his tongue. He was as modest as he was +ingenuous, and he was too deep in the toils to be quite free to pay +compliments. Still a flower, like a star, was a beautiful namesake, fit +for his Scotch rose, destined, perhaps, to hand down her name to a +floral immortality. + +Auld Tam saved the young fellow whatever delicate scruple he felt. + +‘What would you think, Sir Hugie,’ said the father insinuatingly, ‘to +give the name to young Eppie here? She was the first to call our +attention to the flower, so that the name is hers, in a sense.’ + +‘A thousand thanks for the permission, Mr. Drysdale,’ cried Sir Hugo +eagerly. ‘Will you do me the honour to grant your consent, Miss Eppie?’ +speaking with soft emphasis, as if hers were the casting vote; ‘shall +this happy geranium be linked with you always?’ + +‘Oh, no, no, Sir Hugo!’ protested Eppie, in a bashful tumult of mingled +pride and humility and instinctive shyness. ‘It is not an honour--I mean +my name is not an honour. Call the flower after your mother, Lady +Willoughby, and then it will be like “Lady Pollock,” which has such +bonnie leaves. That will be much better. “Eppie” is not a nice name for +a flower; it is not half fine enough. I dare say Lady Willoughby would +not like it.’ + +‘Excuse me,’ said Sir Hugo, beaming, ‘you must let me be the judge. My +mother likes all that I like. I should be so pleased and proud to have +your name associated with anything at Willoughby Court. It is your +mother’s name also; speak for me, Mrs. Drysdale--you who are good to +everybody--that I may send a token of you to my home, and find it +flourishing there when I go back.’ + +‘You’re ower kind, Sir Hughie,’ said gentle mother Eppie. + +At that plea of her mothers name, young Eppie gave in, not without a +sense of innocent importance and elation at knowing that there was +thenceforth a beautiful flower identified with her, that the ‘Eppie’ +variety of pelargonium, which would no doubt come into general favour, +would remain as a remembrance of those happy days. For very happy were +those days to Eppie. She was young enough to enjoy with inexhaustible +zest, and without any anxiety, the constant excitement. She did not even +pause to ask what other delightful glamour of tender flattery, and +pleased approval from all around her, was thrown over the time--what it +all tended to, and what it all meant. + +Tam Drysdale in his rawest youth had never been so idly disposed, so +inclined to linger before setting out for Glasgow in the morning, to +return to Drysdale Hall in the middle of the day, to seek to infect +young Tam with his truancy by proposing to bring his son away from the +office or the works hours before the appointed time. It looked as if +auld Tam were fain to break through the daily routine of business, in +order to pursue pleasure at his age, and that he desired young Tam’s +countenance in the unbecoming proceeding. The head of the firm replaced +the spirit of energy which he had displayed on the back of his +unsuspected misfortune by a kind of disgust at the work which had +formerly been as marrow to his bones. He accepted every poor excuse for +dalliance and distraction. He would even have revived croquet-practice, +since he was too heavy and stiff for tennis, if the young people had not +laughed and hung back from the slow, old-fashioned diversion, so that he +had reason to fear a deficiency of players. + +For no manœuvring mother was ever more crafty and persistent in carrying +out her drift. In two conspicuous instances it was so incomprehensible +to the onlooker, and so opposed to auld Tam’s former tactics, that it +baffled the shrewdest wit to penetrate it, and remained unsolved. If any +mortal had possessed the clue it would have been pitiable to see the +strait to which Tam Drysdale was reduced to effect a compromise between +honour and dishonour. + +Auld Tam’s spasmodic attempts at gaiety, his uncouth gambols, culminated +in a great ‘treat’ or feast to his workpeople at Drysdale Haugh--to +which everybody he knew was invited, and for which he spared no +preparations. At his instigation the two Eppies were engaged for a whole +day superintending the floral decorations of the room in which Dr. Peter +had given his lecture. And the giver of the entertainment went himself +and fetched Athole Murray (one of his pattern-designers!)--reluctant, +annoyed, with a half-comical, half-hurt and angry sense that though the +younger Eppie was glad to see her, the elder was affronted by her +presence, and went as near to snubbing her as it was possible for either +of the Eppies to snub any human being. The result was that Athole was +prompted to be more merciless in her intolerance of young Tam, more +savage--as even a kind woman can be savage--in her raillery where he was +concerned, than she had shown herself for many a day, and that the +revenge was likely to be taken under his mother’s indignant, horrified +eyes. + +There were games, dancing, and a sumptuous supper for Tam’s satellites. +He had commanded his wife and daughters to appear in full dress, Eppie +in her velvet and diamonds, Claribel in her ivory tinted silk and coral, +and sweet young Eppie in the very soft pink and silver plumage which +Clary had imagined for her. She wore, with great glee, the prettiest +little watch in Muirhead’s, which her father had given her on her +birthday. She was the real queen of the evening, and she was admired +beyond measure by the worthy working men and women who had seen her grow +up at their side, and knew her true, kind heart. Whatever grudge they +might be tempted to bear the other fine folk, whatever sly joke to crack +at auld Tam’s expense, at the very moment he was giving them so grand a +ploy, they had nothing but admiration and tenderness for Eppie in her +bloom. The young girls in white muslin, with lockets and ear-rings hired +from the village jeweller for the occasion, followed her about and +watched her half the evening. Endless inquiries were made after Miss +Eppie’s grand young English ‘laud;’ he was reported a lord at least, and +all the interest that could be spared from her was lavished on him. The +couple far eclipsed Miss Drysdale and ‘Captain Mackinnon’ in the popular +regard, though the last, as they were reckoned another pair of lovers, +awoke their share of interest. + +Auld Tam himself was in irreproachable black. Young Tam followed suit, +defying the scornful eyes in the face of the vixen whom Dr. Peter had +unwittingly reared. Yet Athole had the good taste not to wound the +susceptibilities of her handmaid Jeannie by donning less festive apparel +than was implied in a black tulle gown so quaintly and prettily trimmed +by means of bands of silk, painted with tufts of buttercups, that if it +was not a costly, it was certainly a becoming costume. + +Sir Hugo would have come in a court suit if he had possessed one, and it +would have given satisfaction in the right quarter. It was Guy Horsburgh +who betrayed his friend into the solecism of arriving in the +demi-toilette of a velvet morning-coat. But Tam Drysdale would have +condoned any coat on ‘Sir Hugie’s’ back, while young Eppie secretly +thought him like a prince, and many of the rustic spectators were fully +convinced that velvet coats were the specialty of English baronets and +their friends. + +There was a little difficulty as to who was to open the ball. It ought +to have been Mrs. Drysdale and Sir Hugo, or Mrs. Drysdale with the +oldest dyer in her husband’s employment, followed by auld Tam either +with Lady Semple or the rosy-cheeked granddaughter of his first +bleacher. But neither of these arrangements met Tam’s views. Besides, +Mrs. Drysdale was timid about her steps, whether, on the one hand, she +could accommodate them to those of ‘Sir Hughie,’ friendly as he had +shown himself--to the extent of seeming to aspire to be her +son-in-law--or whether, on the other, she could contrive to keep pace +with Lowrie Leech, who was dead-lame. + +There was some apprehension, amongst those interested in the proceedings +of the couple, that auld Tam would open the ball himself, dancing with +his wife; but if he had ever entertained the idea he thought better of +it. He made a speech instead, and deputed the ceremony to a younger +couple. + +‘My friends,’ he said, with a flourish of his white, soft, but powerful +hand, ‘me and my wife are delighted to see you all here, and wish you a +happy nicht. We are getting owre auld, as some of you may find +yourselves, to lead either game or dance. When the band strikes up our +auldest dochter will stand for her mither, and there’s a gentleman +here, whose name may be known to a wheen of you, that will do me the +favour to lift her. Most of you aulder folk will mind that before I was +maister here, Drysdale Haugh belonged to Mr. Mackinnon in richt of his +wife. All here who mind were their servants aince on a day, and it is +fit that the former maister and mistress of the place, who I make no +doubt did their best for their folk in their time, should be remembered +and represented on an occasion like this. Lieutenant Mackinnon, sir, +I’ll thank you to lead out my dochter and open the ball.’ + +The workpeople, who ‘ruffed,’ or beat with their feet, their applause, +might accept Tam’s speech in all sincerity, and regard this bringing +forward of Guy Mackinnon’s son as a generous, kindly deed, worthy of +auld Tam; but his nearest and dearest trembled for him. + +‘Are there ony fivvers that take the head going about?’ the elder Eppie +asked Dr. Peter, with a shiver; while the younger Eppie turned to Sir +Hugo, in their growing intimacy, with innocent perplexity: ‘It is funny +of father to make Mr. Mackinnon open the ball with Clary. I used to be +sure that father did not like Mr. Mackinnon, and now to send him to +dance with Clary!’ + +‘It is because your father has compassion upon us young fellows,’ said +Sir Hugo promptly; ‘and if he had known how I had set my heart on having +this first dance which you are going to give to that urchin---- ’ + +‘Little Willie Finlay, Sir Hugo,’ Eppie interrupted. ‘But I was bound to +dance with Willie, for he is as deaf as a horn, though he is fond to +dance, and he needs a partner that will help him through the figures. +Besides, Clary and me have to dance with all our men in turn, which will +take us half the night,’ added Eppie a little mischievously. ‘If you do +not want to sit still for a couple of hours you had better let me +introduce you to some of the girls who look so nice; to Willie’s sister +Mary, or to Sibbie Howden, or Camellia Duff.’ + +The couple opening the ball by commission were confounded--even Claribel +was staggered. ‘I ought to be well acquainted with my own father,’ she +said, with an uneasy laugh, ‘but till lately I never suspected him +either of dry humour or of diabolical malice.’ + +‘Can he be giving in without a fight?’ faltered Eneas. ‘It has looked of +late like his yielding without so much as a protest. He has not only +been perfectly civil, he has been positively kind--asking me to come +over with Semple, including me in all his invitations, and now +distinguishing me like this. Does he care so much for you, Claribel, +that he will swallow me and my poverty rather than cross you?’ + +Clary shook her head. ‘My father has been a fighting man all his life, +more than you have been. He has welcomed trials of strength and skill. +Why should he shun a fight? He likes me, of course; he likes me so well +as to let me have my own way, if I have set my heart upon it, because he +is both reasonable and kind--I have always counted on that. But as to +his weakly abetting me in the pursuit of an object which he does not +believe to be for my good--remember he does not know you so well as I +do--I suspect he would rather see me in my coffin. He must be giving us +line, as you fishers say, and laughing at us, though I would not have +expected it from him.’ + +Mrs. Drysdale had a second grievance in the course of the evening, which +she took so much to heart that she could not keep it from Tam. It was a +repetition of a former offence of which she had complained to him at the +time; and she thought that if she could thoroughly rouse him to the +aggravated nature of the redoubled injury, it might help to restore the +balance of mind which he had so strangely lost. + +‘Tam,’ she said, drawing her husband aside into a bower of laurels, ‘I +can stand this no longer. What do you think I have seen and heard? That +gipsy of Dr. Peter’s--that I should call her such a name!--taking off +young Tam to his face, as if he were the smallest graith in the room, +and putting him off from dancing till it is her pleasure; and the laddie +standing it like a cawf. Oh! I could give him a dirl in the lug [box in +the ear] mysel’; and I could bid her bide awa’ from ony place I’m in, +till she can behave herself as becomes a lassie like her, with due +consideration for her betters. She’s weel enough, though she’s no +bonnie; but she’s not fit to be named in the same breath with my Tam, +who is bewitched, I think.’ + +‘Say you so!’ answered auld Tam a little abruptly; then he pulled +himself together, asserted he must see to it, and before she could stop +him, crossed the room to where Athole Murray was sitting fluttering a +fan--on which she had painted a yellow-hammer in ‘the de’il’s livery’ +of sulphur-yellow and black, which corresponded with the black tulle and +buttercups of her gown. + +‘Oh, mercy me! what have I done?’ cried poor Mrs. Eppie, in dire dismay. +‘If he speaks to her to quarrel her, though she weel deserves a hurry +[scold], and it come to young Tam’s ears, he’ll neither be to haud nor +bind. My laddie will never speak to his mither again. That lassie has +driven him demented.’ + +But auld Tam addressed Athole with perfect politeness, even with an +undercurrent of the special regard which he had always felt for her. ‘I +hope you’re enjoying yoursel’, Miss Murray, mem?’ + +‘Very much, thank you, Mr. Drysdale,’ replied Athole, with perhaps a +suspicion of exaggerated emphasis, but with great goodwill, for, as she +had said, she was fond of auld Tam--the two suited each other +wonderfully. She brightened up at his approach, with a sense of security +and confidence. He would not tease or misunderstand her. To encourage +young Tam in his folly would be the last thing he would think of doing. +At the same time he, auld Tam, could let his son take care of himself. +Her father’s friend would not sacrifice her to young Tam’s dignity. He +would be honest and friendly, giving her the credit of doing her best in +a difficulty--how great and sore none save herself knew. + +‘I’m glad to hear you’re happy,’ Tam assured his guest with almost +wistful earnestness. ‘I want everybody to be happy the nicht. A treat +means a rarity, and as one never kens whether it can be given twice by +the same hand, I would fain do the thing thoroughly when I’ve the +chance. I hope all the arrangements are to your mind?’ + +‘Nothing could be better,’ Athole said quickly--she was not quite so +certain as she had been of her safety with auld Tam. His speech had +already recalled to her mind that he had not been like himself lately. +He was one of nature’s gentlemen in the main, as she had always +known--courteous and kind to his old friend’s daughter; but he was more +at this moment, he was pointedly, painfully deferential, as he had been +at the picture sale. She did not like his manner. She could not tell +what to make of it. ‘I believe everybody is very happy,’ she added +vaguely; ‘you may have the satisfaction of thinking that you have given +a great deal of harmless pleasure to a number of people.’ + +‘I have heard there are exceptions,’ he said dubiously. ‘I’ve a notion +I’ve seen ae discontented face, and another that is petted, gin it be +not peevish. Will you forgive an auld man--auld enough to be your +father--your father’s friend for that matter, for taking a liberty? What +ails you at dancing with young Tam? If you’re so happy yoursel’, can you +not spare a crumb to a poor beggar who has long been prigging [praying] +for grace, this nicht aboon a’ nichts, when everybody’s heart is or +should be as licht as his heels? Is it consistent with a gracious +leddy’s happiness to be glad when a gentleman suffers? or are you +behaving on principle, Miss Murray, mem? I ken I’ve no richt to speer +[ask]; but you and me have been gude friends--have we no?’ + +Athole stared and grew red and pale again in an instant. She flicked her +dress with her fan bearing the bird that wears the de’il’s livery. +‘There is no poor beggar here,’ she said sharply; ‘you know that as well +as I. If there were, it might be different. But, indeed, you have no +right to say anything, though you are the owner of this place and the +giver of this ball, though you employ me along with your workpeople. +No,’ she prevented a vehement protest, ‘I do not mean for a moment that +you have not been everything that is good and kind to me; but I hope I +too know how to behave civilly--you see you have touched me on a sore +point.’ She gave a faint smile. ‘Yet--well, I did not expect it from +you. I wonder what Mrs. Drysdale would say? she knows better, after all. +How would you judge of your wish that everybody should be +happy--supposing I complied with it, and supposing you wasted a thought +upon it to-morrow morning?’ she ended bitterly. + +For Athole had made the great mistake of imagining that auld Tam was so +far left to himself as to desire she should gratify young Tam’s +inclinations for the moment, at the expense of her pride and +consistency; that she should permit attentions of which nothing could +come, in order to increase the hilarity of the evening, at least where +one member of the party was concerned. + +To her amazement and distress, in place of leaving her or losing his +temper, or even begging her pardon, auld Tam began to plead passionately +on behalf of his son. ‘I’ve no richt to speak--less than none. I’m weel +aware of it,’ he said, in agitation which he could not conceal. ‘Very +likely he would be the first to blame me for advocating his cause--and +why should he need an advocate with a leddy when he seeks her favours? +He’s a brawer man than ever his father was, and women like strapping +chiels. He’s been reared a gentleman, and he’s nearer the real article +than mony a lord. He is not saft or gay of speech--he’s looking dour and +dowff [stubborn and sad] enough at this minute when ilka other face is +gay. But whose fault is that, I should like to know? It’s ill for a lad +to thole a lass’s scorn, to be slichted when he has looted [bent], proud +as he may be, to his knee. He’s pairtner in a fine business, and he’s +making a grander business-man than I could ever have dreamt. His heart +is in the richt place, and is as sound as a bell. What would you have +mair?’ demanded auld Tam, with rising indignation. ‘Do you want his +mither as well as his father to speak up for him? But is that like a +reasonable leddy? My Eppie is as good a soul as ever breathed, but she’s +his mither, and so her ain bird is whitest among the craws; no other +bird that he can choose will ever come nigh him for whiteness in her +een. It’s human nature, that; it’s mither’s nature. I thocht you would +have understood and made allowance for ‘t, that it is useless to fecht +against it. But I’ll be bound she’ll bear no spite, and come round as +fast as ever woman came round, if no other man stand in the way--I’ve +never heard tell of any other, and you could gar my Tam’s heart lowp +[leap] with a kind word or look, and take the wind when it blows in your +barn-door.’ + +She got up and left him in the middle of his pleadings. She could stand +no more of such raving. She found her father and clung to him, +addressing half-a-dozen arguments to him in favour of going home early. +As she stood awaiting his compliance with her request, she put it to +him: + +‘Father, suppose a man does the very reverse of what you have been +accustomed to see him do, and flies in the face of natural prejudices +without the smallest reason, what would you think?’ + +‘I can hardly tell, unless I were to know the man,’ said canny Dr. +Peter; ‘but folk would have said lang syne that he was “fey.”’ + +‘I am sorry,’ said Athole, in a low, grave tone. + +‘If you mean auld Tam, as I take it you do,’ said her father, in the +same key, ‘so am I--sick and sorry. There’s the devil to pay there, or I +am much mistaken. I never thought to have witnessed the signs in this +quarter. What is it? Over-trade, bad times, loss of credit, a heap of +debt, an expensive style of living which cannot be altered without +arousing suspicion? The result is the same--wild to get his daughters +off his hands at a moment’s notice, even though he can find no better +protector for Clary than the penniless officer, Gavin Mackinnon’s son, +whom auld Tam was wont to despise. As for Sir Hugo, he would have been a +big fish in the smoothest water, but one might have hoped that Tam +Drysdale was above angling for it. Young Tam’s looking put about, so +that you need not have snapped at him, Athole. I suppose it is a bad +custom you have fallen into. Well, since we can do no good, we had +better keep out of the mess, for mess it will be.’ + +‘I don’t know what it all means,’ said Athole, knitting her brows, +‘unless that auld Tam’s fey.’ + +Auld Tam brought forward Eneas Mackinnon a second time before the +evening was over. When Tam’s health was drunk, in returning thanks, he +begged to couple them with the name of Lieutenant Mackinnon, the son of +the former proprietor of Drysdale Haugh. + +The toast sounded to many people, as possibly auld Tam intended it +should, tantamount to announcing Claribel’s engagement, and introducing +young Mackinnon in the character of a member of the family. + +Eneas muttered his gratitude in a couple of words. Some among the +audience thought it was a pity the response could not have been made by +his future partner in life, who would have been quite equal to +delivering a calm, well-bred, suitable little speech. She must coach her +bridegroom in anticipation of the wedding breakfast. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +SIR HUGO LAYS HIMSELF AND WILLOUGHBY COURT AT YOUNG EPPIE’S FEET. + + +Guy Horsburgh threw up his last futile attempt to restrain Sir Hugo, to +keep him back from a declaration of his sentiments before he had got +time to cool, or before any aristocratic friend or batch of friends +could interfere in his interests. Sir Hugo was of age; he was his own +master, he could go his own way, as he showed every inclination to do. +For the rest, Lady Willoughby must see to it, though Guy had first +brought her son to Glasgow. + +After all, the result was not so deplorable or so unexampled as it might +have been. Sir Hugo was going to ally himself with trade; but so had +earls and marquises before him. He was on the eve of proposing to marry +one of the loveliest, sweetest girls in the West of Scotland, with a +large fortune, if auld Tam cleared himself, as he certainly would, from +the reverses of bad times. Sir Hugo might go farther and fare worse. +Lady Willoughby might have an infinitely less satisfactory +daughter-in-law thrust upon her. The whole Willoughby race might have +reason to bless the day which had sent Sir Hugo to woo and win a fair +and good Glasgow heiress. + +Unquestionably Sir Hugo thought so. He was in the seventh heaven of +young love--worthy as it was ardent, unlikely to be balked, and yet not +so certain of its crowning success as to lack the stimulus of doubt and +difficulty, the excitement of the chase. Would young Eppie Drysdale quit +her country and her people, leave father and mother--though it was in +the Bible that it could and should be done--for him, to go where he +went, to dwell where he dwelt, to make his people, with their different +ways, her people and her ways, till nothing but death should part her +and him? + +The gossips of St. Mungo had little doubt of the answer. They had lately +wavered a little in their long-standing conviction of auld Tam’s luck. +He was known to be ‘bitten’ by more than one of the unfortunate traders +who were succumbing on all sides to the ebb of the tide of trade. It was +generally rumoured that his only son and elder daughter were about to +make inferior matches. But the news of the probable engagement of Tam’s +younger daughter--a mere schoolgirl--to a grand young English baronet, +with a ‘Court’ to take her to, quite restored the balance of her +father’s reputation for good fortune. Tam Drysdale knew what he was +about, and he would keep at the top of the tree in spite of +contradictions such as fell to the lot of the most prosperous of men. +Young Eppie Drysdale ‘Lady Willoughby of Willoughby Court!’ Auld Tam +might have been the Lord Provost and his daughter not fared so well. + +That was the summer of life for some of the family at Drysdale Hall, +though they were also the days in which little Eppie awoke to find +herself a woman, to relinquish reluctantly her bright care-free +girlhood, to realize her lot of merging her life in that of another, and +being ready to sacrifice herself for him. If ever there were idyls +enacted in modern times, that suit of Sir Hugo’s, under the blatant +auspices of trade, was one of them. He was so young, generous, and +devoted; she was so simple and so sweet, so unworldly in her coming +promotion, so unmoved by it, so genuinely humble, still so tenderly +attached to all that she was nevertheless preparing to give up. Her +nature, in place of being hardened and tarnished by the gain which came +to her--as it must have come to every true woman in her +circumstances--tempered by loss, was deepened and purified. All who had +eyes to see stood still to look on and be moved by the domestic drama, +when Eppie clung closer than ever to her father and mother, and spent +upon them her most winsome wiles at the very time that she was singing +‘My love she’s but a lassie yet,’ and ‘What ails this heart o’ mine?’ +every evening to Sir Hugo, hanging entranced upon her words. She did not +so much as forget once poor deaf little Willie Finlay, or Beardie, or +Whitebreeks, when the time came that Sir Hugo sought, with many excuses +and apologies, almost to live at Drysdale Hall, when he was a miserably +restless and discontented fellow if he was half a day out of the +presence of its younger daughter in which he basked, when he haunted her +and all connected with her like an exacting ghost. If he could not quite +say of her that he + + ‘Gat her down by yonder knowe, + Smiling on a broomy knowe, + Herding ae wee lamb and ewe, + For her puir mammy;’ + +he could aver that he found her continually going on some errand of +filial affection or human kindness. He called himself thrice blessed +when she suffered him to meet her father with her, in her company to +wait upon her mother, to do young Tam’s bidding, to find something Clary +wanted, to choose a picture-book for Willie Finlay, to take a warm +jacket to Willie’s consumptive cousin Maggie, to carry bones to Beardie +and knobs of sugar to Whitebreeks. + +When Sir Hugo thought of Eppie’s relations to her homely father and +mother, he contrasted them with what he had read, but declined manfully +to believe, of ‘girls of the period.’ These daughters at ease were said +to despise, in place of honouring, their fathers and mothers; to +blush--not alone for the faults of the girls’ progenitors, but for +harmless peculiarities and rusticities which ought to have been +sacred--might even have been dear--to the children of the perpetrators. +Such girls were freely represented as rebelling against the lawful +authority of their parents, and hating them with a hideous unnatural +hatred. Sir Hugo was too good a fellow, too sensible and manly, to have +much faith in the general existence of these unwomanly young women, and +undisciplined, undutiful heroines. But he recalled what he had seen of a +very different order of girls living under the same roof with their +fathers and mothers, yet practically apart from them, divided from them +by a host of half-real, half-artificial obligations, trained to separate +interests, occupations, and goals. Then his heart grew full, and he +thanked God fervently that he had been shown another description of +girl, another description of daughter--how true, how tender! one whom he +could give to his own good mother, and know that he was rewarding her +for all her care and affection where he was concerned, by bestowing on +her--whether she knew it at first, or not, she would live to know +it--the best of children. + +It was as if the world had grown young again this autumn at Drysdale +Hall, and many who got a glimpse of scenes enacted in Paradise were +touched by them, and became for the moment softened men and women. It +was not only auld Tam and his Eppie who were thus affected--young Tam, +with his dash of cynicism in his very philanthropy and his Radical +views, did not accuse Sir Hugo of narrow arrogance and assumption, but +was indulgent to him. Even young Tam was susceptible, shame-facedly, of +a good deal of wondering half-humorous gratification at the idea of his +sister, wild little Eppie, becoming Lady Willoughby. He secretly read up +the English county history, which expatiated on the dignity and local +benefactions of the Willoughbys, and on the antiquarian and +architectural glories of the Lincolnshire Court. Insensibly Tam’s +bearing altered a little towards his young sister. It was not only +softer, with a lurking, wistful affection in anticipation of losing +her--a creature so deservedly dear to the family; it had a certain +instinctive respect for the girl who was so soon to achieve matronly +honours, who had made a slave of a fellow with wit and independence in +his own line, like Sir Hugo, so that he stooped from his class and +defied their censure, in seeking a city girl for the future mistress of +his home. + +And all the time she to whom this subtle tribute was paid thought hardly +at all, unless it were with fear and trembling, of rank such as Sir Hugo +owned, and social position like that to which he would raise her. + +Claribel had foreseen young Eppie’s conquest from the beginning, and +accepted it fully. Now, in the engrossment of her own very different +engagement to Eneas Mackinnon, tacitly allowed by her father, without a +word spoken, Clary not only welcomed her sister’s higher fortunes--she +found leisure and energy to try to prepare Eppie for them. It was not by +polishing her manners, for, since these had their share in captivating +Sir Hugo, Clary wisely left off attempting to improve upon them, +deciding that they had their charm for ancient gentility. It was in +gently opening Eppie’s eyes to what the future held for her, and +accustoming her to the change which awaited her. + +Claribel had taken great pleasure in presiding over Eppie’s toilet +lately, and in insisting that her particular style and taste should have +every advantage which high art and accomplished modistes could give +them. + +‘I don’t wish you to be anything save yourself, Eppie dear,’ said Clary. +‘I do not know that you could be greatly improved, and I am certain I +should never be forgiven if I destroyed your identity. Somebody’s +indignation would pursue me for the rest of my days. But there are +various kinds of simplicity, and you ought to deal in the most perfect +kind, which unites nature and art. You are bound to use the allowance +that my father makes to each of us, which, as you have just grown up, +you have entered upon so lately, you little chit. But to use it as the +giver intended is not to spend the greater part of it in presents to him +and my mother, which you know they do not require, though they may be +pleased by your thinking of them in that way, and in gifts to servants +and children and poor people. You ought to learn to have your dress, +your _tout ensemble_, according to your station, or harm will come of +it. That reminds me, when I came out I got my choice of any set of +jewels short of diamonds, like mother’s, that I preferred, and I took +corals. What will you have? Not topazes--they are pink, but you must not +be all pink. I should have opals if I were you, Eppie; they suit any +colour, and they would not be too much for you.’ + +‘Oh! don’t speak about it, Clary,’ cried Eppie, half-radiant, +half-shrinking. ‘I think father has a good deal to do with his money +this year. I am sure he looks duller than he used to look. I can +scarcely ever get him to make fun and laugh, as I once could-I heard +Tam and Dr. Peter speaking of bad trade.’ + +‘What has a baby like you to do with bad trade?’ demanded Claribel +incredulously. ‘Do you think what we spend makes any difference to our +father? What the whole house spends is a drop in the ocean of his +business outlay. It would be another thing if one of us married a poor +man, a man with a small settled income, which could never become much +larger--like an officer’s pay,’ added Clary, with a meaning smile; ‘then +that foolish woman must cut her gown according to her cloth.’ + +‘And wouldn’t she be happy to do it if it were for her man’s sake!’ +cried Eppie, blushing very red and taking Clary aback by a sudden hug, +which hid Eppie’s blushes. + +‘Oh, my gown, Eppie!’ protested Clary. + +‘What about your gown?’ replied Eppie recklessly, returning to the main +point. ‘Oh, I like you for it, Clary; and I am so glad to see that +father is beginning to take to the Lieutenant.’ + +‘Is he? I am not sure,’ said Claribel, with unwonted indecision. ‘My +father has puzzled me lately. All the same, child, I am very thankful +that you are not going to follow my example. One disinterested goose is +enough in a family. I did not mean to be that goose, but Fate and Eneas +Mackinnon have been too strong for me. Fancy poor dear Eneas being too +strong for anybody! But there are those who overcome by lack of +strength--if passive endurance is lack of strength. I am strong enough +in the common, vulgar way, for both: I believe I have been wasted in the +family for want of somebody to take care of, you are all so well off and +independent. I first found my mission when the old Miss Mackinnons +suffered me to look after them. But don’t let us forget what we are +talking about--you must have your opals, Eppie.’ + +‘They are things that should belong to a grand lady. It would fike me +to take care of them.’ + +‘But you are going to be a grand lady, little woman; and if you are not +able to keep opals, what are you to do with diamonds? I have no doubt +old Lady Willoughby has family diamonds which will pass to her son’s +wife.’ + +‘She is not old,’ cried Eppie, staunch as ever in maintaining the +earthly immortality of her seniors. ‘He says he remembers her looking so +young and pretty, in spite of her widow’s cap. She was not twenty-three +when his father died,’ explained Eppie shyly and softly. ‘She will wear +her diamonds as long as she lives--who has such a good right? who would +take them from her?--and she will leave them to whom she likes. I’m sure +he would say so. But oh, it is all nonsense!’ broke off Eppie, in +trepidation. ‘I wish you would not speak about it, Clary. He has never +speered me; and do you think I could bear to go away from father and +mother and all of you at Drysdale Hall, where I’ve been so happy? It +would just kill me.’ + +‘You would come alive again and live for him,’ said Claribel, with +smiling faith. ‘He has not asked you in so many words to be his wife. +Perhaps as you are so young, though he is young himself, he may choose +to put the question to my father first. But I know he has talked to you +by the hour of his home, and how you would like it, and what you would +do there. As he is a gentleman and not an adventurer, true and not +false, you will have it in your power to be the mistress of Willoughby +Court, and you will not send him away--such a nice fellow as he +is--disconsolate. I wonder if you will condescend to receive a poor +officer and his wife some day at your fine place, Eppie?’ + +The suggestion was too much for Eppie in the highly-wrought state of her +feelings. What was she, that she should ever live to patronize Clary and +the Lieutenant? The bare idea smote her with affront and distress, so +that she burst into hysterical tears, and had to be coaxed and scolded +back into composure. + +Auld Tam and his Eppie were stirred to the very depths of their natures, +when the destiny of their darling was wrought out before their eyes. +Many a time Mrs. Drysdale, even while her motherly eyes glistened with +pride and joy, withdrew to ‘greet’ (weep) in secret over the +relinquishment of her child. To think that little Eppie, who had always +been as fondly faithful to her earliest ties as when she was a toddling +child, who had never been three months absent from home, or a week away +from her father and mother since she was born, should + + ‘Aye be awa’,’ + +and in the very greatness of her marriage parted from them by barriers +to which the Cheviots and the Tweed were nothing; to remember that if +she had waited for some years, and married in an ordinary fashion a +moderately thriving manufacturer or merchant in her father’s circle, +she might have been settled near Drysdale Hall--she might have seen her +whole family two or three times a week as a matter of course--these +considerations ought to have been a cure for ambition. But the mother +was equal to the offering up of her very heart’s blood for the object of +her love. Being sure of ‘Sir Hughie,’ as Mrs. Drysdale believed herself, +that he was a fine lad who would be good to young Eppie, the mother +would not stand as an obstacle in the daughter’s path. She would be +ready when the time came to do more than cut off a right hand and pluck +out a right eye. So that little Eppie might be a grand lady, loved and +honoured in a higher sphere, then big Eppie, who had borne her and +delighted in her young charms, would be content with the crumbs which +fell from the rich man’s table, with passing glimpses of her bairn, and +more or less distant reports of her dignity and happiness. + +Auld Tam was not so sure either of his child or of himself. Young Eppie +would be safe, though there should be a storm and downfall--that was one +good thing which had tempted him. But could he endure to think that she +would go where she might be looked down on, instead of made much +of--scorned in place of cherished? Her little rustic ways, with love +lying at their root, though ‘Sir Hugie’ had not minded them, or had gone +so far as to be captivated by them, for a change, in these his red-hot +love days, might look different in his eyes when the ways had lost their +novelty, and marriage had cooled his passion and restored his judgment. +Trifles like these sometimes made mischief between man and wife. + +Tam Drysdale could ill stand the thought of his innocent, loving lassie +being mortified and ‘lichtlied’ (slighted). He would come bound that she +would never ‘lichtly’ her mother and him in her turn--it was not in her +constant, gentle heart. But she might be taught to ‘think shame’ for +those who had been first with her--whom, until now, in her +guilelessness and goodness, she had well-nigh worshipped. + +That was a prospect which auld Tam had difficulty in facing. He did not +doubt ‘Sir Hugie’ in so far as that he meant well and was an honourable +and kindly-disposed young gentleman. But Tam Drysdale had heard that +like should mate with like, and he could not pretend to say that his +bairn--bonnie and dear as she was to him--ought to be reckoned a fit +match for a real gentleman--a titled gentleman of solid acres and long +descent. And if in the time to come ‘Sir Hugie’ should be further +disappointed in what he might conceive he had a right to expect--should +have reason to say that he had not been candidly and honestly dealt +with--could auld Tam be certain that the disappointment and the offence +would not be visited on a blameless victim? The retaliation might not be +open, but indirect and half unconscious, partly concealed from the very +person who was guilty of the meanness of using such weapons, so as to +be less easy to challenge and denounce; but the undeserved punishment +would fall on the tender heart, already writhing under a sense of the +failure of those it had once exalted. + +To Tam’s other heavy troubles was added yet this one more grave +perplexity, whether in promoting young Eppie’s great marriage he was not +really wronging her, his pet lamb, worst of all, and cruelly risking her +best chance of happiness. + +When all else was said, a quivering note of interrogation was added to +what went before--Had the business not gone too far to be stopped? Was +it possible for him still to draw back? Poor auld Tam! he was pulled two +ways and torn in different directions, till he hovered on the verge of +distraction. + +Little wonder that Tam Drysdale, towards the end of Sir Hugo’s +courtship, looked, as often as not, heavy and displeased on what was +evidently approaching its legitimate conclusion. He caused the +bystanders to exclaim in a high key among themselves--What would the man +be at?--was there no end to his ambition? Did he seek dukes for his +daughters? or was it a mere feint of indifference and scanty approval, +unworthy of auld Tam’s character for sincerity? + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +THE SEAL TO SIR HUGO’S SUIT. + + +The prettiest episode of Sir Hugo’s wooing occurred when Lady Semple +suddenly struck out the bright idea of bringing down Lady Willoughby to +pay her a visit and judge for herself, when it was too late, of her +son’s choice. + +Far from Sir Hugo’s offering any objection--as if he were ashamed of +what he was about, or had the slightest conception that his feelings +might undergo a change, or that anybody, even his mother, to whom he was +so strongly attached, had the smallest right to interfere with him in +his choice of a wife--he was charmed with the opportunity of introducing +the Drysdales, especially Eppie, to Lady Willoughby; and at the same +time, though he was his own master, and was not very down-hearted about +winning the day, he caught at the chance of securing his mother’s potent +voice on the side of his suit. + +Sir Hugo had so talked himself into the belief of the transcendent +merits of the merchant princes of St. Mungo’s, he had so swallowed +wholesale the peculiarities of the Drysdale household, and then, with +his strong young mental and moral digestion, dismissed them without any +great effort, that he had for the moment ceased to be conscious of their +existence. He was only aware of a long list of commercial virtues, and +that young Eppie was the loveliest, most artless, most divine of mortal +maidens. + +Sir Hugo met his mother unembarrassed and without apprehension--rather +triumphant in having done so well by himself and her. She was full of +pain at the thought of losing her son so soon, as it seemed to her; of +doubt of his youthful wisdom in this direction, when love--above all, a +boy’s love--was notoriously blind; of rising repulsion--good as she +was--at the trading middle-class into which he had strayed. He was only +eager to escort her to Drysdale Hall, and to present her, as his best +credentials, to his friends. To her mingled indignation, relief, and +reluctant amusement, she found her boy was making his own of this visit +of hers, which had been paid with another intention. In spite of Lady +Semple’s flowing accounts of the unobjectionable, indeed the very +delightful, young Glasgow heiress who had happily captivated Sir Hugo, +Lady Willoughby was come down on a mission of anxious inspection, +agitated inquiry, and, if need were, in her son’s interests, grieved but +determined opposition--powerless as she was to hinder his will--with the +hope, at least, of holding him back for a moment from wrecking his life +for a young man’s idle fancy. And here was he marshalling her as his +complacent mother who was lending her countenance to his infatuation! + +Lady Willoughby became confused and nervous with the turn matters had +taken, but Sir Hugo offered an unmoved countenance. Auld Tam swaggered, +though not so briskly as of old, over his possessions. Mrs. Drysdale, in +the height of her timidity and her devotion to her child--the quality +which of all things would have touched the visitor, had she been capable +of measuring the large amount of fellow-feeling between the mistress of +the house and herself--was at once unduly fine and unduly humble, and +blundered hopelessly in her small affectations. It was all lost on the +couple’s future son-in-law, who smiled with cheerful unconcern, as if he +knew better, as if everything were right in the main. Neither young Tam +nor Claribel was of any use as interpreter and smoother-down of +grievances, though Lady Willoughby saw at a glance that they were, in +the language of her class, ‘civilized’ like other people. Lady Semple, +who had created the imbroglio, struck in energetically, and talked on +every subject under the sun, to no purpose. + +It was, as it should have been, young Eppie--who was not exactly +civilized, and not like other girls of her age whom Lady Willoughby had +known--that, without intending it, came to the rescue, and prevented the +interview from proving an utter failure--nay, what was worse, an +irretrievable disaster. Yet, strange to say, Eppie had never shown +herself so refractory, so unmanageable. She was coy to the verge of +absurdity and provocation of the most indulgent of her friends. Eppie +declined absolutely to be trotted out by Lady Semple. The girls shrank +away from the perfectly gentle Lady Willoughby, who was nearly as much +put out, and a great deal sorer in heart than anybody else present, +though her years and her good breeding had taught her to control herself +and put the best face on a difficulty. Even in her unwillingness to +come forward and distinguish Eppie, her ladyship was yet desirous of +being quite courteous, if possible gracious, to everybody. She might be +there to forbid the banns, but it would be done in the most reasonable, +forbearing manner. + +But little Eppie looked at Lady Willoughby, of whom the girl had spoken +reverently and tenderly, as if the lady was an aristocratic tyrant of +the old régime and the first water, come to annihilate the maiden for +beguiling her son. + +‘It was all his doing,’ Eppie, standing at bay, kept saying to herself. +‘I would never have so much as looked at him--he who might have had +Clary or anybody; but he sought me out as if he liked me best, and how +could I withstand him?’ + +All the same she withstood Lady Willoughby, who was like her son. Eppie +turned her back upon her ladyship unmistakably; she would not be drawn +forward, but kept at a distance from the visitor, and left other people +to entertain her. Eppie answered her interrogator in monosyllables when +Lady Willoughby forced herself to address the little rustic beauty who +had won her son. Eppie did not so much as care that Sir Hugo began to +look vexed. She was unjust for the moment, but it was an innocent, +disinterested injustice. Let him take away his mother and leave Eppie to +hers, for with a sudden revulsion Eppie turned and clung to her mother, +held by her skirts, as it were, and would not be taken away from her. + +It was this very attitude of rebellion and defiance, this simple +clinging to the ‘common woman,’ her mother, and ignoring the lady, Sir +Hugo’s mother, together with Eppie’s winsome, youthful loveliness, which +broke down Lady Willoughby’s defences. It was the old story of ‘My boy +Tammy’ over again, of the true woman who knew by unerring instinct that +her son could not be wrong in loving the ‘young thing’ whose heart was +so full of her ‘mammy,’ and by an answering sweet and noble impulse +ratified his choice. + +Lady Willoughby commenced, not so much to unbend--for she was always +modest and meek--as to warm. She took no further notice of young Eppie, +but she smiled a wonderfully frank, kind smile upon mother Eppie and +auld Tam. She began to speak pleasantly, and in the most friendly +manner, of her son as of a person in whom they too were interested. She +looked around her with observant eyes, and took notice of all the things +he had written about and described to her, delicately indicating that, +though he might, if he would, take the most important step in life +without her consent, he had not taken it without her knowledge--he had +kept no secrets from his mother. She ended by making herself at home +during her short stay, and manifesting a sincere and flattering desire +to be better acquainted in the future with everything and everybody at +Drysdale Hall, for at present she was merely passing a day with the +Semples at Semple Barns on her way to another friend’s country-house--as +it happened, the home of the Honourable Lilias, who held Dick Semple in +her chains. + +Then young Eppie stole from her mother’s side and went into the +conservatory, still refusing Sir Hugo’s attendance and assistance. She +gathered with her own hands, daring and defying the ogre of a +head-gardener, some of the most choice flowers, and arranged them as +only she and her mother knew how. Eppie came back when Lady Willoughby’s +foot was already on the step of the Semple Barns carriage, followed her +and made the peace-offering mutely, with changing colour and untutored +grace. + +Lady Willoughby turned as lightly as if she had been only half her age, +accepted the flowers, and equally without a word, kissed and smiled on +the giver. That kiss and that smile were the sign of free forgiveness, +Lady Willoughby’s seal to her son’s suit which neither Sir Hugo’s wife +nor Sir Hugo’s mother were ever likely to forget. + +‘She will do, Hugo,’ his mother confessed to him in private. ‘She would +have been a perfect love of a girl, whether she had been a princess or a +peasant. I do not know that I could have wished one better or half so +good for you, perhaps. But oh, my dear boy! it was running a terrible +risk for you to go out of your rank, and lose your heart without so much +as thinking what you were about. And I doubt there will be difficulties; +you will have to be very patient, very generous, very prudent, Hugo. I +am afraid you do not know yet what you are doing. Though she were the +sweetest, dearest girl in the world, when there is anything like a +_mésalliance_, there is a great deal to bear.’ + +‘Nonsense, mother. These merchant princes look down upon us poor “landed +gentry,” as they call us. They don’t need to covet matches with us. +Besides, Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale are excellent people, you must see that; +and I don’t care a rap for things,’ the young man went on in one of his +high flights, speaking rather incoherently. ‘I believe I am +thick-skinned. The risk has been well repaid, and, if you are satisfied, +it is all right; that is, if she will have me, if she will make up her +mind to exchange Drysdale Hall for Willoughby Court.’ + +Lady Willoughby did not answer. She had made great concessions, but she +would indeed have been a wonderful woman if, with her nurture, she could +have realized that to some people, and those not the worst in the world, +Drysdale Hall in its over-blown splendour might have attractions +superior to Willoughby Court with its fine flavour of old gentility. + +After all, when Sir Hugo made his formal proposal, and asked Eppie’s +hand from her father, the young man was astonished and disappointed by +auld Tam’s returning him a doubtful, evasive answer. Tam Drysdale +expressed himself as much obliged, he ought to say honoured, by ‘Sir +Hugie’s’ offer. He was perfectly aware of the compliment which had been +paid to his daughter; but there was time enough to think of her +marriage; she was very young. He could not answer ‘Sir Hugie’ positively +at that moment, or indeed for some time to come--not even after Eppie’s +father should have ascertained her feelings on the subject. + +All a lover’s eloquence and impatience were wasted in vain, in spite of +the fact that Sir Hugo had been accustomed to find himself treated as a +person of consequence all his life. Auld Tam would not stir from his +position. He was much obliged and highly honoured, etc., etc. He did not +desire to be ungracious or rude, but he could not give an absolute +answer at a moment’s notice. He must have time to think over matters. +Sir Hugo must wait. If little Eppie were not worth waiting for, then the +young gentleman had better let her alone and go his way. ‘Dod!’ he +might be thankful that he got no worse answer; he himself had been +forced to speer twice at auld Mercer, who knew him a hantle better than +he knew ‘Sir Hugie,’ before he got his Eppie. + +Sir Hugo might have replied that the circumstances were different, and +that something more was due to him. But he refrained. He certainly +thought young Eppie worth waiting for, and after the first shock of +mortified pride and baffled ardour was surmounted, the ingenuous nature +and excellent temper of the young man came out in the good grace with +which he submitted to the uncalled-for period of uncertainty and +probation to which he was sentenced. Nobody could see any reason for the +trial, but Sir Hugo came off so far the victor by cleverly making stock +of auld Tam’s hesitation. Sir Hugo managed not only to secure the +sympathy and support of the bride and all the other members of her +family, but to prove to his mother and the connections of his house +acquainted with the affair, the truth of his assertion of the +disinterestedness and superiority of the merchant princes, and how +guiltless they were in the person of Mr. Drysdale of Drysdale Hall of +any anxiety to bestow a daughter on Sir Hugo Willoughby. + +It was auld Tam’s own household that were most aggrieved by his conduct. + +‘What does my father mean?’ demanded young Tam, with a fellow-feeling +for his brother bachelor in the ordeal he was made to pass through. ‘He +ought not to have suffered Sir Hugo to come so much here, if my father +intended to object at the last moment.’ + +‘He will get Eppie and all of us talked about,’ complained Claribel. +‘People will not understand. They will suppose Sir Hugo has drawn back, +or that there is some trouble with the settlements.’ + +‘Oh, does father not like him? What fault can father find with him? I’m +sure he likes father,’ poor Eppie pled piteously with her mother, till +what Mrs. Drysdale called her ‘corruption,’ her unregenerate nature, was +roused to remonstrate strongly in her turn with her husband. + +‘Would you mar your bairn’s credit and happiness, Tam Drysdale, for a +freit [fancy] at this time of the day? Nobody feels more keenly than me +that she is going out from us, that we are giving her up to the fine +lad. But they’re a braw young couple. Eppie will be my leddy, and what +for no? If Providence has willed her promotion, my bit lassie is worthy +to wear a crown, like Queen Esther in the Auld Testament. We’ve no +earthly title to prevent it. What’s come ower you that you dinna see +that? What makes you sae thrawn [cross], lad?’ + +But neither did auld Tam yield to the wife of his bosom. He had always +the same answer to give--time enough. He must think. He would give his +consent, or it might be his denial, when it was fitting. If Sir Hugie +could not stay--let him go. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +A CHARMED SAIL. + + +In the middle of auld Tam’s perversity, he suddenly announced that he +would take a holiday sail. He had never set up a yacht of his own, +neither had young Tam adopted that refuge and glory of a maritime +people, especially of the young swells of the mercantile world of the +West of Scotland. But there were various friends’ yachts at auld Tam’s +disposal the moment he signified his intention. Neither was company +likely to fail him; but here he was as arbitrary as he had been lately +in other matters. He would have nobody with him save the two Eppies. He +would not allow the presence of young Tam, saying that he might be +wanted at the office and works in his father’s absence. But neither +would Tam have Clary with him, though she was an experienced and +excellent yachtswoman; she should stay at home and keep house while her +mother was away; and he actually scouted the suggestion of the +attendance of Sir Hugo, who had nothing else to do, would have liked +nothing in the world better, and made humble overtures to be allowed to +join the party. The planner of the expedition desired a rest--complete, +however short--from the toils of business, and, for that matter, of +hospitality; and to procure this he must have none except the two +members of his family whom he had chosen--his wife and his younger +daughter--to sail with him. + +The drawbacks were that neither of the Eppies were good sailors, that +both had a most unaffected dislike to spending days and nights at sea, +and that though the weather was remarkably fine for the season, the +month of October had been reached, with its lengthening nights, +shortening days, chill, frosty air, and sudden gales, striking terror +into the hearts of landswomen. + +But the two women on whom auld Tam had pitched to bear him company would +never fail their lord and master. Had it been Styx and not Clyde he had +fixed on for his watery highway, and had Charon and not an honest man +from Largs been the steersman of the vessel, the two Eppies would have +gone down as devotedly and almost as intrepidly, with a certain fond +pride that auld Tam should have elected them for the partners of his +voyage. It did not signify that their faces were pale--the elder Eppie’s +from sheer quaking before an anticipated experience so foreign and +unpalatable to her, and with the thought of the home and children she +might never see again, if auld Tam, his company and crew, went to the +bottom, in this unchancy autumn trip on which he had set his heart in a +strange, almost an uncanny manner. As for the younger Eppie, her sweet +colour was gone, because her tender heart was wrung by the injustice and +injury done to her lover, while yet she did not dream of resisting her +father--loyal still to auld Tam in the worst of his caprices. + +The sail was not to be very prolonged or to involve further risk than +could not be avoided in a change of weather with the squally gusts +concentrated in the passes between the mountains, which sometimes lend a +peculiar peril to such coast-sailing. For auld Tam meant merely to run +up one or other of the arms of the sea with which all the dwellers in +the region are familiar, to lie to in the shadow of the everlasting +hills each night, and resume his course on the following morning. + +There was no sign of any fall of the barometer or chopping of the wind, +which was in fact too light, with no more than a harmless ripple on the +water, when the little freight started from the pier at Greenock, to +which the carriage and steamboat had transported them, leaving behind a +disconsolate group of persons, who had insisted on accompanying their +friends so far, looking wistfully after them. The least affected of the +group were Claribel and Eneas Mackinnon, who had ventured unrebuked, +unless by his own unaccounted-for success, to make himself one of the +family. They were neither of them over-burdened with imagination, and +they had enough of business of their own on their hands to occupy them. +He contented himself with observing on the cut of the yacht and +calculating the rate of her speed; and Clary’s moan was summed up in +declaring that really her mother and Eppie had no excuse for being ill. +Then the couple dropped the subject for others more interesting to them, +as they moved away, he sauntering by her side, in the probable style of +their progress through life. + +But young Tam muttered discontentedly, ‘I cannot tell what has come +over my father--a yacht trip in October, and my mother and Eppie +frightened out of their wits if the sails fill or the deck inclines a +quarter of an inch.’ + +Sir Hugo said nothing. He was haunted with the vision of an old picture +he had seen abroad of the Virgin Mary, her mother St. Anne, and St. +Joseph, sailing away on a shoreless sea, and with the echo of the +refrain of one of young Eppie’s saddest songs-- + + ‘Ochone! for fair Helen, ochone! + Ochone! for the flower of Strathco: + In the deep, deep sea, + In the saut, saut bree, + Lord Reoch, thy Helen lies low!’ + +Sir Hugo had to put the greatest force upon himself to resist rushing +off, securing another yacht, and following in the wake of the Drysdales. +He had just enough judgment left to recognise that no measure would so +offend and outrage auld Tam as the invasion of his privacy to which the +young man was tempted. + +In reality no such tremendous calamity as the shipwreck or foundering of +the yacht threatened auld Tam and his faithful womankind. The little +vessel was as good and serviceable as any Clyde-built craft which has an +honourable reputation. The skipper and crew were picked men of their +class, to be depended upon in all circumstances. The weather continued +uninterruptedly fine, so as to soothe the excitable feelings even of the +two Eppies. + +‘Oh, it is bonnie, mother; I never knew it would be so bonnie!’ said +young Eppie, standing, without tottering, in her dark serge costume, +with only her cheeks, rosy once more, to relieve it, as she watched the +blue water over which the yacht rode lightly, and the autumn-tinted +hills and woods of the shore. ‘If it is all like this, I don’t think +we’ll be feared, and it will be a fine change for father from the Haugh +and Glasgow.’ + +‘Bairn, I never saw sic weather in October,’ said her mother, still +inclined to be awed, if not appalled. ‘It is just a ferlie [marvel]. +Eh! how gude it will be for the petawties diggin’ and pittin’. If your +father had only ta’en a thocht of driving ower to my auld hame--though +it is in the hands of strangers now--and of bidin’ a day or twa, to +watch the farm folk at their wark, or to fish in the burn, I could have +baked scones sic as he was fond o’ lang syne to give him an appetite. +But, as you say, if the water is nae waur than this, it will be a fine +change, and it may do him a heap of gude; poor chield, he has been +forfochten [over-worked], as he kens best, of late!’ + +Auld Tam did not seem to reap immediate advantage from the variety he +had sought. He was still engrossed and oppressed, and paced up and down, +taking little notice of his wife and daughter. But as the hours wore on, +and the breeze--though it was no more than a summer breeze--blew +fresher, the wavelets curled with a whiter crest, and the +thickly-populated banks gave place to lonelier, wilder regions, where +the woods of Finnart embowered the hamlet of Ardentinny, and higher and +higher rose the heathery hills, showing nothing but sheep-tracks and the +furrows worn by winter torrents, till the great mass of the Cobbler +loomed dark against the early sunset, auld Tam shook himself up, as if +the wind and the water were blowing away the cobwebs from his brain. He +took note of each well-known landmark, and pointed it out carefully to +his companions--not so familiar with the scene. He told them the stories +he had heard in his boyhood--how the Danes had landed there; and here +the clan Macfarlane had shouted their slogan ‘Lochsloy! Lochsloy!’ when +they started to levy blackmail and plunder and murder whoever resisted +them. He cheered the Eppies with prophecies of the settled nature of the +weather--more to be depended on than in early summer--which would last +their trip. He foretold how quietly the yacht would lie off Arrochar +till morning broke. He incited the ladies to have an informal scrambling +meal--a sort of tea, dinner, and supper in one--of roast fowl and cold +round, ham and tongue, partridges, cheese, and oysters, with bitter +beer, claret and Glenlivat, tea and coffee, toast and cake, grapes and +melons, eaten and drunk on deck. Tam Drysdale waited on his wife and +daughter in spite of their remonstrances, as if he were proud to be +their servant; and he did not forget the shy, independent sailors who +drew off from witnessing the feast, and could only be induced by an +instantly established freemasonry of jokes and grins between auld Tam +and the crew, and gentle solicitations from the two gentlewomen of whom +the men were taking care, to accept a share of the good things lavishly +provided for the occasion. + +Auld Tam was himself again, and the two Eppies could not help being +glad, though night was falling, and though they had still the fearful +experience before them of descending to their cabin and going to bed +rocked on the bosom of the deep. In the meantime the moon and star light +shone white over Arrochar, causing the mountains to throw blacker +shadows, and the twinkling lamps of the village to look red and yellow, +and the water between to glisten with a trembling radiance. The +stillness, now that the yacht had stopped sailing, acquired something of +mystery, like everything else in the unwonted surroundings. It was a +clear, cold night, frosty indeed, but there was no fog, and the air was +so pure and rare that it was not unpleasant to meet it, enveloped in the +multitude of ‘haps’--cloaks and plaids, hoods and clouds--with which +Mrs. Drysdale had taken care to come provided. The women stayed on deck, +impressed, as these simple souls had not expected to be, by the new +world around them. + +The elder Eppie kept close to her Tam, felt as if they were one again, +and was wonderfully content to sit by him while he smoked in silence, +or occasionally uttered a brief word of admiration, for auld Tam was a +great admirer of nature in an old-fashioned, solemnized style. + +The younger Eppie drew away by herself. She sat a little behind the +mast, and looked up with great innocent eyes at the lustrous moon, +asking herself if _he_ were looking at it as she was, and knowing that +he must, for she was sure that he was watching every turn of the +weathercock and every cloud in the sky till she was safe on land again. +She wished he were there, but she felt they would not be long apart, for +her father must relent, and then Sir Hugo would not grudge her for these +few days to him. And oh! she would try to be good to her man, as she +tried to be good to her father and mother, and God would bless them and +take care of them for evermore. As little Eppie gazed across the moonlit +waters, a strange transformation took place. She ceased to see the dim +mountains looming around her, the dark loch at her feet, the planks and +ropes of the yacht close at hand. She beheld, what her bodily eyes had +never rested upon, but what she had heard often described with love’s +eloquence. She saw the rich foliage of a double row of spreading lime +trees in a green park, the low square tower of a Norman church rising +above the mossy park-wall on one side, and a red house, all mullioned +windows and peaked gables, with flower-beds and an ancient fountain and +sundial on a terrace. And she knew it was his English home on which the +same moon was shining as it might shine when the home was hers also, +when she had quitted Scotland and the west, and he was teaching her to +be such a lady as his mother was. Lady Willoughby was grander in her +soft unconscious dignity than stately Clary or restless Lady Semple. Yet +Lady Willoughby had taken Eppie’s flowers and stooped and kissed her, +and, Eppie knew, had received her, for Lady Willoughby’s son’s sake, +into a second mother’s heart, true and tender as Eppie’s own mother’s. +Had the girl not reason to be grateful? + +The morning rose with a more silvery haze than if the season had been +summer, though during the night that had passed the frost had laid fiery +fingers on what was left of the heather, on the leaves of the sapling +oaks and the light tresses of the birk-trees--only the dark-green firs, +like the hills above them, defied cold, heat, storm, sunshine. + +The hours of sleep might have been dreamful and restless, spent so far +from home, where everything was so out of gear, as even the most +luxurious yacht’s cabin appeared to the dwellers in Drysdale Hall; but +nothing save refreshment could come from the caller air, the sparkling +water, the mist like curdled milk, or flakes of wool drawn back and up +into the highest recesses of the hills. Mrs. Eppie had another and a +lower source of happiness by which maiden Eppie was not altogether +unmoved--not only were they miraculously escaping the pandemonium of +sea-sickness which they had braved like two heroines for the love of +auld Tam, half a day and a night of the pilgrimage were gone, and they +were so much nearer to home and Sir Hugo. + +The opening into another loch with an island and a ruined castle was +passed, and the Kyles between Bute and Cowal were entered. The October +sun streamed down mellow, not wan as yet, on crags and knolls, grey +pinnacles, ferny dells and bickering burns, on Colintraive and +Tighnabruaich, deserted by their summer visitors, left to hardy fishers +and herdsmen. Ardlamont Point was turned and Kilbrandon Sound reached, +leaving Tarbet with its tower, and Ardrishaig with its early steamboat +behind. Lochfyne presented a noble landlocked water, bearing in the +season fleets of brown herring-boats swaying with the tide. On its +shores, glens, valleys, and mountains succeeded each other. Here was the +glen of the Leakan; yonder flashed the waters of the Uray and the Shira; +that peaked hill was Dunaquoich, and in its shelter rose the castle of +M‘Callummore. + +Auld Tam was peaceful as the weather, pleased as his companions. He +coaxed the two Eppies into a small boat, to undergo the penance of being +rowed up a minor water to the shore where the channel was narrowest; and +the bank he chose offered nothing but shelving rock, rough grass, +bracken and blackberries, curlews and plovers with their shrill, +ear-piercing cries. Perhaps the place was seen more in character when +autumn was beginning to add to the natural desolation of the scenery, +than in spring or summer. + +Tam Drysdale rewarded his companions for their submission to his fancies +by letting them sit down and look at sea and sky, all bright and glad in +contrast to the earth, and at the yacht reflected in the blue water; or +to scramble till even the youngest scrambler’s light feet were tired. + +The solitude and the stillness sank into minds unaccustomed but not +irresponsive to such influences, and first thrilled the guileless +hearts through and through, and then calmed their throbbing pulses. + +As young Eppie sought to pluck the last red ling, singed by the nightly +pinches of frost, over which the bees, safe in their binks until the +summer returned, had ceased to hover, with the lingering tufts of thrift +or sea-pink whitening under the salt spray by the water’s edge, she kept +humming-- + + ‘Lowland lassie, will you go + Whaur the hills are clad wi’ snow; + Whaur, beyond yon icy steep, + The Highland shepherd tends his sheep?’ + +and pointed exultingly to the farthest-away mountain which had white +streaks across its bald front. But if she had known it, these signs +which she took to be the harbingers of approaching winter had survived +all the summer sunshine, and were no more like the glorious but ghastly +livery of the death of the year than the little streamlet issuing from +the well-eye is like the great river hurrying to the edge of the +precipice and leaping fiercely to destruction before it loses itself in +the islandless sea. + +‘Everything looks auld, auld, and yet as fresh as on the day of +creation,’ said the elder Eppie, while the three figures, like the three +corbies to which auld Tarn compared them, perched themselves on some +stones and appeared the only moving, breathing objects in the landscape. +‘Tam, it’s like being alane in the presence of ane’s Maker.’ + +‘Yet the boat is in sicht and fishing-cobles forbye, and the next minute +a steamer full of the world’s racket may come tearing through the water, +leaving a long wreath of black smoke filing [defiling] the blue lift +[air]. There are far loner spots than this within a day’s sail, if it +had been fit to venture there with timorous women so far on in the year. +But this may serve,’ said Tam, half-absently and with a sigh--‘this +taste of the world as God made it. What do you think, Eppie, woman? It’s +grand in its very nakedness, and on few lines, like a’ His +wark--nothing weak or ower saft and fine and dilittanty about it. It +mak’s us ashamed of the feck [most] of our wark. What do you think? We +could strip ourselves of our warks, as the preachers call them, in His +sicht, and lay them down and leave them without breaking our hearts. +What do you think?’ he kept repeating eagerly. + +‘You’re richt, Tam, no doubt,’ said his wife gently, bat with only the +most superficial guess at his meaning. ‘We brocht naething into the +world, and we’ll tak’ naething out--that’s plain. And all our bravery +that we set sic store on is no more than bairns’ toys that the bairns +are brodent [keen] on for a day and forget the next.’ + +‘Men’s praise amang the lave,’ chimed in Tam. + +‘Ay, men’s praise or blame will fa’ dead where there are nae lugs [ears] +greedy to kep it. But are you no weel, Tam, my man,’ asked Eppie +anxiously, ‘that you speak in so serious a strain?’ + +‘Oh, I’m weel enough,’ said Tam, stretching the arms which were still +brawny. ‘But I was wondering, Eppie, my joe, how you would like if we +had to go back to the beginning and commence afresh, as we did +sax-and-twenty years syne, with a room or twa, and no so muckle as a +servant lass; only me to earn our daily bread, and only you to keep the +house richt, and spend my wages.’ + +‘Fine, Tam, I would like it--real fine!’ exclaimed Eppie, with honest +readiness and gladness. ‘I dinna pretend that I’m as soople as when I +was young, or that I would not miss mony a thing, for ane soon learns +ill lessons; but to have you all to mysel’ again--to cook for you, to +mend for you, and to keep all richt and ticht for you without any +help--I could do it as well as ever, and prood to do it, my lad! It +would make up for a gude wheen losses.’ + +And the husband and wife looked into each other’s faithful eyes, grasped +each other’s honest hands, and he knew that she spoke no more than the +truth. Each was dear as ever to the other, and so long as the one +treasure was left, all else might go, without too bitter lamentation. + +Young Eppie had been listening in respectful silence to what she, like +her mother, judged too grave talk to be lightly dealt with. But now she +spoke up with something like a pout: + +‘And what is to become of me when you two are going to set up house +again by your two selves, wanting nobody else to interfere and upset +you? Father, mother, I’m here. You seem to have forgotten my very +existence. I must say it is not very kind of you.’ + +The girl spoke more than half in jest, and yet there was a little +soreness in her merry tones. The old ties which had been strong as death +were loosening from her; but it smote her that they should drop from her +in this fashion--that her father and mother should speak of the future +even in the lightest imagination, and leave her out of count. She had +not expected it from them. It was not what _he_ would have done--he who +was above her in rank, and had been used to grand ladies; he could never +draw a picture of his coming life in which she was not in the +foreground. + +‘Never fear, bairn,’ said auld Tam tenderly; ‘where there are father and +mother the bairns can never be forgotten--never--even when they’ve grown +to men and women’s estate, are heads of houses of their ain, and have +flown far from the parent nest. But I’ve a question to speer of you, +too, young Eppie;’ and he drew her nearer to him, and made her look into +his face. ‘What if all this speak of a grand lad and a title, and a +Coort and what not, come to nothing some fine morning, after all? Will +you blame your father? Will you never smile in his face again? Will you +and he never more be happy together, as you were before?’ + +‘Tam, Tam! ye’re tryin’ the bairn; she’s ower young to answer such +questions--though maybe you’ve a richt to judge for her, since she’s +under age, if so be you can show a reasonable warrant for your judgment, +and she’ll submit to your lawful authority when she can; for she’s not +dour [obstinate] or contermacious [refractory]. She’s your ain loving, +obedient little lass. But how can you, man? Would you plague her as gin +she were a patient Grizel and you were a ragin’ tyrant? You’ve no +richt--I will not have it, though I am your wife--it’s fair cruelty, +Tam.’ + +In truth, little Eppie had grown white and cold, and was trembling in +every limb. At last she said in a low choked voice, looking down and +plucking nervously at the bent grass: + +‘Why are you so thrawn [cross] to him, father? He never harmed you. He +has a great liking and respect for you, though you’re not like his +people. Is it just because he likes me that you are so unkind?’ + +‘Bairn--it will not rest with me,’ said Tam, with something like a +smothered groan. ‘It is supposing Sir Hugie draws back, and will have +no more to say to you.’ + +‘He will not draw back,’ broke in young Eppie, holding her head high, +and with a rush of colour back into her white cheeks. ‘He’ll never be +forsworn, whatever happens. You may make me give him up, but Sir Hugo +will never give me up.’ + +‘Not with his will, I daur say,’ granted Tam, ‘or the loon [fellow], +though he were a lord, would not be worth a hoast [cough]. But my +gentleman may be overborne, high-hearted as he is--I’ll not deny it. +Bools may row so that he cannot control them. He has his mither and his +factor to answer to: a young laird is aften sair hadden down by his +factor, and no doubt so is an English squire, though he has a “Sir” +before his name, by his agent, who stands for his factor. The young man +has his credit with his billies [contemporaries] and the inheritance he +has to hand down to the next generation to hamper him. Oh, there are +mony things to consider that young folk dinna tak’ in at a glance and +winna believe can weigh against love itsel’.’ + +‘I dinna believe it!’ exclaimed auld Eppie indignantly. ‘Dinna heed him, +my lamb!’ she said rebelliously. ‘He’s no in earnest, though why he +should tak’ to sic ill joking in this wild pairt, I canna tell. He’s no +himsel’. This sail in the cauld has been ower hard upon him, that sits +so long in a hot office--that’s what it is. Come back to the boat, Tam, +like a man; and let’s hoist sail and hurry hame, and see the doctor in +the bygaun.’ + +But he paid no attention to his wife. He went on like a man in earnest, +and a hale man still, determined to ply his daughter with an imaginary +case: + +‘Sir Hugie is no a reckless callant of a ne’er-do-weel to care only for +his ain will and pleasure, and he is not just free to make his choice +like a common man. He’s like a young prince, bound to think on the +interests of others. He may be brocht to see--to fancy he sees that it +will be best for you and him to pairt.’ + +Little Eppie sat motionless with her hands locked together in her lap, +while the contention between these two who loved her, and whom she loved +so well, passed over her head. The eerie October wind and the sad +sea-waves seemed to sigh and sob an accompaniment to the strange +incomprehensible argument. + +‘Then, father,’ she said, with a break in her soft voice, and a far-away +look of misery in her gentle eyes, ‘we _will_ part. If you and he agree +that we ought, what have I to say? What am I, that I should stand up +against him and you? We’ll do what is right, and God help us all!’ + +‘Haud your tongue this minute, Eppie!’ cried her mother. ‘There’s no +call for you to say such words. Make no rash promises. Oh! it is no fair +to bring the bairn here to a place so lonesome that one might commit a +murder and it would never be found out till the day of doom, where +there’s nane but me to interfere between you, and speak her round and +break her heart, and get her to give up her lad--a grand lad and a gude +lad. You that were so fond o’ little Eppie, Tam. You maun have taken +leave of your senses--you maun be fey, if ever man was.’ + +‘Never, gudewife,’ said auld Tam gruffly, in order to hide a little +tremulousness in his own accents. ‘You micht trust me, woman, at this +time of the day. It’s all fair, and will soon be aboon-board. As for +you, my bairn, that last word was spoken like my gude little lass, and +is a help to her father, as she will like to hear and to think long +after he’s laid in the mools. It’s God’s truth as weel. We’ll do what’s +richt an’ shame the deevil, and trust to the Pooers aboon, who made +baith the city and the solitary places, for the rest. There, think nae +mair of what I’ve been saying. I’ve been trying you baith, as mother +says, and thank God you’ve neither of you been found wanting, which is +nae mair than I looked for, though it’s far mair than a sinfu’ man +deserves. Let’s be happy when we can,’ cried auld Tam, a little +incoherently. ‘What would you say, little Eppie, to a race ower the +stanes or among the bent? No? Then we’ll just take our time--it’s all +our ain the day--and daunder down to the sma’-boat and row back to the +yacht with a gude appetite for the next meal. What will you wager that +I’ve not forgotten in this ploy of idle-set [idleness] whether it’s +luncheon, dinner, or supper? Never mind; it will be welcome, whatever.’ + +The women were not so easily set at rest. They were disturbed and +dumfoundered; but auld Tam recovered so entirely from the agitation he +had shown, he was so much more at his ease from that minute, so +resolutely calm and cheerful, that the two Eppies could not help +regaining their spirits--though they did not forget--and being as happy +once more as the sea and the dread of storms would let them. + +The next day was the last day of the trip, and as it was also Sunday, +auld Tam, like a reverent Scotchman of the old school, the member of a +kirk and a regular attender at the same, caused his vessel to lie-to in +a safe anchorage, went ashore in the morning with his party, and walked +to the most primitive of parish churches, where he worshipped with his +fellow-men. The afternoon was grey, but still calm and quiet. The family +group gathered on the deck once more. + +Auld Tam made little Eppie read ‘a lesson’ out of her Testament, as she +had done every Sunday when she first began to read, to her father and +mother, who had listened with pleased attention and secret admiration +that did not prevent their being ready with a homely correction whenever +she mispronounced a word. The childish voice had sounded as if it came +from a cherub oracle, uttering, without comprehension, in a clear, +unfaltering treble, awful words of everlasting moment. The girlish +tones were deeper, and had more rising and falling meaning in them; but +they were almost as unconscious, with no subtle undercurrent of +reflection, as the reader, on this October afternoon, chose for a lesson +the history of Jonah, the secret sinner who concealed his superior +knowledge, kept back his heaven-sent tidings, and imperilled by his +guilty presence an innocent ship’s crew. + +‘He came to his senses, and spoke out like a man at last,’ was auld +Tam’s single comment on the reading, uttered as if the final atonement +afforded him great satisfaction. + +Then he made young Eppie sing two of the old Scotch psalms. One of them +was ‘The Lord’s my Shepherd,’ with its broad distinctions and wide +stretches--from death’s dark vale, where the Almighty’s rod and staff +are the sole stay for the forlorn wayfarer, to the sumptuous earthly +table furnished in the presence of his human foes, with the kingly oil +and the overflowing cup anointing and confirming him as a prince and +ruler over his fellows. + +Tam, like most Scotchmen of his generation, had said that psalm when a +child at his mother’s knee. + +The other psalm he and his wife had sung together in the congregation on +many a peaceful Sunday, but never with such vivid realization as now, +when they heard it in the amphitheatre of mountains: + + ‘I to the hills will lift mine eyes, + From whence doth come mine aid.’ + +As young Eppie sang ‘with grave, sweet melody’ the solemn, familiar +words, the skipper and his men in their Sunday clothes hanging about the +deck, and putting a touch now and then to the tackle, which, like a +living creature, must be seen to Sunday and Saturday, paused to listen, +and took their pipes out of their mouths as if to hear better, though +they were too blate [bashful] to draw nearer, or make any other sign of +appreciation: + + ‘Behold He that keeps Israel, + He slumbers not nor sleeps.’ + +No more than these giant sentries, hemming in and protecting the great +loch, with nothing hidden there that should not be revealed, and nothing +really to fear from a brave revelation. + +‘Ay, the hills are grand,’ said Tam emphatically. ‘Grand, like truth +itsel’. No mortal lee, or pridefu’ conceit, or blind self-deception, +will lift up its head before them. I verily believe they’re the +tabernacle of the Almichty.’ + +Certainly there was, while he spoke, a light as from a divine sanctuary +on Tam Drysdale’s face, which had grown so grey and lined of late. The +light still lingered upon it when he landed in common day with his +womankind at Greenock on the morrow, and was met by the same friends who +had escorted him on board, with congratulations on his prosperous trip, +to which he responded cordially. + +Nevertheless auld Tam continued to hold off Sir Hugo--not angrily or +sternly, rather with a half-authoritative, half-deprecating manner, that +seemed to say, ‘Not yet, Sir Hugie; wait a little longer, my fine young +gentleman, till you see and hear everything.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +THE LAST OF RORY OF THE SHELTIES--DR. PETER ON THE SCENT. + + +‘He’s gane, and nae mistake, puir lad, said Sandy Macnab, respectful for +once, and also for once deficient in his constitutional volubility. + +He stood with Dr. Peter Murray by a box-bed far from tidy, but not +deficient in the ordinary comforts of a bed of its class, while over the +rest of the bedclothes was thrown a tartan plaid. Beneath the covering, +with the head and chest exposed, lay the worn, breathless body of Rory +of the Shelties, from which life had just departed. + +The locality was no remote shieling in North Uist, but Bawby Sed’s +house in a street off the Gallowgate of Glasgow. Bawby herself, with the +effusiveness of her nature and race, was rocking to and fro, and +wailing, with an apron thrown over her head, as if it were her man Andry +and her whole numerous family that had been taken from her, instead of a +half-witted Highland ‘gangrel’ (tramp)--who was nobody’s body, with whom +she had been accidentally and temporarily associated, not greatly to her +profit or pleasure. + +The time was yet so early in the morning that the November daylight was +still only struggling with a tallow candle burning down and guttering in +the socket. The fact that the daily life of Glasgow was not far advanced +accounted for the comparative privacy and stillness of Bawby’s dwelling. +The husband and elder children had set forth to their work, and the +younger fry had not begun to stir. No visitor was yet ready to drop in, +while the old woman who had shared with the mistress of the house the +last night-watch by the sick man, had gone out for more assistance to +perform with due ceremony, such as Bawby would not on any account have +neglected, the office of ‘straiking the corp.’ + +‘There’s nothing to be done, as you say, Sandy,’ remarked Dr. Peter, +failing to reproach Sir James Semple’s man, who had rushed out to Barley +Riggs in the small hours for the doctor, and dragged him in to Glasgow, +where medical men abounded, and there was a special practitioner told +off for the wants of the poor in the parish in question. + +‘I thocht, as he had been your patient aince, doctor, you would like to +see the last of him,’ said Sandy confidentially. + +‘Well, if it is any comfort to you and the honest woman that I am here, +that is something, since I can be of no use to him,’ said Dr. Peter +resignedly. ‘But what was the poor creature doing here, Macnab? I +thought he went back to his part of the country, after he was put out +of Gartnavel--three--no, I’ll be bound it is nearer five months ago.’ + +‘That’s just the way of it, sir,’ said Sandy, a little confused, but +without proceeding to explain how the contradiction came about. Then he +turned with some impatience to his lamenting countrywoman. ‘I wish you +would hand your wheest, Bawby; you will be enough to drive a man doited, +with your bubblin’ and greetin’!’ + +‘Oh, the puir lad!’ went on Bawby, with unabated energy, behind her +apron; ‘and I thocht when I saw him first that he would bring me word of +the auld man--M‘Leish, you ken--that befriended me when I was a +motherless bairn, and, instead, the lad’s ain friends will be wondering +what has become of him this day--ochone! ochone!’ + +‘If you would only listen to reason, woman, before you’re in the ecsties +[hysterics],’ remonstrated Sandy; ‘what friends is he likely to have, a +wasp of a natural--that I should say sic a word and him no cauld--weel +on for forty? They will think theirsel’s weel quit o’ him, I doubtna; +forbye, he spoke of no friends save his granny--and she, if she were to +the fore, would be weel on to a hunder, ower auld and cauld to care for +ocht but the keepin’ in o’ her ain wee glimmer of life and heat. He +cared mair for his bit boxie, when it had the papers intil’t, than for +a’ the friends that ever had the misfortune to own him. As for +Ballachulish and auld M‘Leish--are you as daft as he was? How could a +man from the islands bring you word of what was done on the main-land?’ + +‘Why did he not go back to his island, and where is the box that he set +such store on?’ inquired Dr. Peter. + +He was not a suspicious man, nor was he inclined to believe that a man +in Sandy Macnab’s position, with a place and a character to lose, would +be likely to risk them for what, after all, must have been a small +temptation. Still the listener did not quite like the aspect of affairs. + +‘That’s just what it is, sir,’ Sandy repeated his vague formula, looking +yet more embarrassed. Then the man seemed to take a sudden +determination, and resolve on a free confession. ‘Losh! I’ll tell you a’ +about it. I havena been so far to blame, nor has Bawby here, that we +should beat about the buss [bush], and think shame, and maybe called in +question for what we never did or thocht to do. It was not my blame that +Mr. Drysdale wouldna give me speech o’ him, or he micht have kenned lang +syne that the puir sorry Rory was not aff the carpet, but was lying here +getting waur and waur, and failing ilka day, till he was as gude as in +the death-thraw [death-struggle]. Nicol Macnicol would have naething to +say to sic a cargy on board his boat. It would have turned the stamachs +of all the fine gentry to see or hear tell of a deeing beggar on the +same planks with them.’ + +‘It was to give the craytur a bit treat out of his notie that we keepit +him at first,’ mourned the more ingenuous Bawby. ‘He had never seen +Glasgy afore; and then, when he took a turn and fell ill again, and +couldna be lifted, I couldna cast him out like a dug, you ken. I’m sure +I’ve had fash [trouble] enough wi’ my man Andry--wha’s that dour, +dornach [strong cloth] is naething to him. He threepit I micht as weel +keep beggars’ ludgins at aince. And wha’s to bury the puir silly chap +that’s stiffening fast, I canna just say. Sandy Macnab’s willing to +help. I’ve some savings in the fit of a stocking that Andry’s never +seen, or he would have them awa’ to put into a society in a jiffy--Andry +is an awfu’ hand at societies. But I’m willing to waur [spend] a pickle +on a Hielantman, and I hope the pariss will do the rest.’ + +‘I’ll see to that, Mrs. Seth,’ promised Dr. Peter, ‘and I’ll give you a +certificate for the registrar. But you’ve never told me where the poor +fellow got the note on which he was to have had the treat, or where the +box is that he valued so highly. Perhaps its contents may be of some +consequence to his friends, or may help to defray the expenses of the +funeral.’ + +‘Very like!’ said Sandy Macnab, not aware of displaying any want of +feeling by speaking in a tone of unmistakable derision. ‘Yonder the +kistie is;’ and he pointed to the wayfarer’s battered knapsack kicked +below a table. ‘When it was fu’, its valuables consisted, if you’ll +believe me, sir, of a wheen papers, an auld will of are Drysdale, and +the purpose of marriage of ane Mackinnon, baith of them, I’m creditably +informed, dead and buried mair than a score of years syne. I cannot tell +what maggot came into Rory’s head, but I did the best for him. I got him +speech of Mr. Drysdale up at Drysdale Hall, and it was him that, +sensible gentleman though he is, gifted Rory with the note in exchange +for the papers. I was to see him aff the Broomielaw,’ acknowledged +Sandy reluctantly, with a slight deepening of his ruddy colour; ‘but +you see, sir, as Bawby said, it seemed but richt that the craytur should +have a treat afore he gaed back to the hills--the mair so that he hadna +taken in a particle of what he had seen, but was brodent on some +miserable cruivie in North Uist. It seemed an awfu’ shame to send him +back where he cam’ from, with no more notion of the world than that. But +for all the gude that it has done to him, and considering what has +happened,’ said Sandy candidly, as he looked down regretfully on his +unfortunate countryman, lying for ever prostrate, ‘we micht have left +him in ignorance to daunder [saunter] hame in time to dee there.’ + +Dr. Peter’s whole aspect had undergone a change while Sandy spoke. First +a startled and then a troubled look came into the thoughtful eyes, until +the whole face fell indescribably. At last his mouth set with a rueful +determination, and he turned away. + +By the time Dr. Peter had ridden out to Barley Riggs he had composed his +countenance and rid himself of every trace of disturbance. But it was a +very grave, sobered-looking man who presented himself at Athole’s +breakfast-table, instead of the cheery philosopher who was wont to take +his place there, and be the light of the morning and of the meal. + +Athole, who had parted from her father overnight in his usual spirits, +did not know what to make of the change. She inquired in turn for every +patient she could remember, and received no information which could +explain Dr. Peter’s mood. She investigated into his own health, and was +told, with the impatience of a man to whom it was a contemptible trifle +at that moment, that he was perfectly well. What should ail him? + +‘Then I wish, father, people would not call you out during the night +when they might do it to as much purpose during the day,’ she said +discontentedly, looking at the kidney he had hardly touched. ‘You may +be as strong as Hercules, but facing the darkness and cold at your age +does not seem to improve your appetite.’ + +She expected him to shake himself up and ask jestingly how old she +thought him, and whether he was not as good yet for night-work as any +young ‘swankie’ among them. Instead, he muttered gloomily, ‘What did it +matter? And it had happened to be the morning and not the night--a fine +enough morning for the season of the year--but though it had been mirk +midnight or in the thick of a snowstorm or a thunderstorm, sickness and +sorrow, misery and shame, did not wait for daylight and fine weather.’ + +Then it struck her that she had never seen him look like that before +since she was a child, when she had a dim recollection of the arrival of +a letter which had caused her father’s face first to flush purple and +then to pale to an ashen-grey, and he had drooped his head and not +raised it, but gone softly for many a day. She had heard, years +afterwards, when the penalty had been paid twice over, and she was old +enough to understand, that one of her brothers abroad had got into +disgrace, and their father had discharged the debt. + +‘What is it, father?’ Athole now asked plainly, putting her hand in his, +and looking wistfully into his face. ‘I am old enough now to know, +whatever it is. Let me bear it with you!’ + +He put her gently from him this time. ‘It is not what you think, lassie. +It is nothing with which we have to do, thank God! Walter is all right +now, and so I trust are Sandy, and Mary and Lizzie’s husbands. It is no +secret of mine, else I dare say I might tell it to you; for, as you say, +you are old enough, and you have a woman’s wit to help a man in a strait +what to do next. But the tale is not mine to tell, as I said before, and +you’re likely to hear it soon enough,’ he ended, with a quick sigh. + +Athole was dying to hear at once, but she could not force the confidence +which was not his, but some other person’s; she could only beg him not +to vex himself too much by taking other people’s trials upon him. They +were not his; he was not called upon to suffer heavily for them, any +more than he was answerable for other people’s errors. + +‘Ay,’ he said sorrowfully, ‘but lookers-on have painful duties to +perform sometimes. Do you know, Athie, I have had ere now to go to a +friend--one of the oldest and best I had--and tell him something of +which he had not the faintest suspicion, that he had a deadly disease +upon him and his hours were numbered. If he wanted to settle his worldly +affairs and arrange for his family, or to make his peace with his Maker, +the present moment was the time, for the obligations of the case +admitted of no delay. I have had to go to another friend and give him +his choice--a doubtful operation, against which flesh and blood +recoiled, or his life lost for a certainty. Yet I would rather undertake +either of these commissions twice over, than face what I have to do +to-day.’ + +Her face paled in sympathy with his. Her great grey eyes opened widely; +she did not protest further or ply him with remonstrances which would +have been so many subtle questions; she stooped and kissed him, but said +no more. She watched him go, and went about her ordinary household +duties. But all the time she was praying silently for souls in trouble, +and that every hair of the heads of all the family at Drysdale Hall +might be kept in safety, though the name had never been mentioned in the +conversation, and she could not tell what evil one or all of them had +compassed, or what harm might befall old or young in the household. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +THE SACRIFICE. + + +Auld Tam was loitering with his son on the terrace at Drysdale Hall--a +favourite place for loiterers and smokers, weather permitting. Though it +was November, it was that rare experience in Scotland, a St. Martin’s +summer. The fields were bare, the trees were leafless, but there was a +blue sky overhead and a pale sunshine all around, having a pathos in it, +because it was so strange and so fleeting. The shadows were long, and +the light fell not upon waving cornfields and rich pasture, full +foliage, the flowers of spring and summer, or the fruit of autumn--but +upon brown earth, faded grass, the thin blades of winter wheat, and +bare boughs more in keeping with the gloom of grey clouds and the biting +breath of gales laden with stinging sleet, for which the world was +ready. It was like an amnesty between summer and winter, a last herald +of peace before the war of the elements, which should rage, with +interludes of sullen and hollow truce, from Michaelmas to Candlemas and +a ‘bittock’ beyond. + +The Drysdale men had returned together, at the elder’s suggestion, +rather early in the afternoon, had reported themselves to the women, and +were lingering for the sunset as if the month had been May. + +Auld Tam’s eyes had taken a long range from the bleachfields to the +boundaries--not merely of the old farm, but of such ‘pendacles’ or odd +bits of crofts as he had added, field by field, to his property during +the last ten years. He had pushed his hat far back on his head, as if +the brim might have interfered with his view. He stood now with his big +massive forehead exposed in the sinking light illuminating the two +faces, as only the setting sun will light them up. + +‘It’s a bonnie pairt,’ said Tam Drysdale, with a long-drawn sigh from a +full heart; ‘a fine bit of country. I’m not sure that mair lines of +bleachfields might not be laid out along the whole course of the Aytoun +Water, for bleaching and dyeing, even in bad times, are more profitable +by a long chalk than farming nowadays. But the land is not ours to do +with as we like.’ + +‘Not ours?’ echoed young Tam, puzzled; and then, thinking that he had +caught his father’s meaning, ‘Not all ours, of course. We are not nearly +monarchs of all we survey. Yonder is Gray of Rintoul’s offices, and Sir +James’s land, while all on the other side is the Duke’s. That is the +disadvantage of a wide view. If the prospect had been sufficiently +circumscribed we might have flattered ourselves that we possessed the +earth--so much of it as our eyes rested upon.’ + +‘But as it happens none of it is ours, Tam, my man,’ said auld Tam, +speaking low and slow, as he reluctantly rose to the task of breaking +the truth to his son. + +‘What do you mean, father?’ asked young Tam, in fresh perplexity. ‘Times +are not so bad as that comes to. I dare say you are uneasy about the +Pierrots’--referring to a foreign firm with which Drysdale and Son had +considerable dealings that was held in danger in these hazardous times. +‘You should know, but I am persuaded they will pull through, and at the +worst their assets will cover a large proportion of the loss. Then +Mackinlays have come out strong. I cannot fancy your losing heart. Is it +not late in the day to do so? Are there not signs--I heard you pointing +them out yourself the other morning--that trade is on the turn, or will +be before long?’ + +Young Tam spoke remonstratingly, encouragingly, and all the time with a +disturbed wonder that he should have to do so to his father, who stood +looking at him fixedly. The sun had gone down now, and there was a +shadow on the face which had been lit up a moment before. + +‘Just so, lad; I have told others that, and I have said the same to +myself. It is true in the main, if that were all; but it mak’s little +odds to them that are powerless to profit by it. Tam, it’s not to +Pierrots’ creditors, or for any other trade obligation, that the land +and the works are forfeit. It is to that offisher lad Mackinnon, who has +never done a hand’s turn, or his father before him, to deserve them.’ + +Young Tam stared a second longer, then his eyes fell with his heart, and +that sank like lead. There flashed upon him with painful clearness and +coherency, as in a strong chain of evidence, all the unaccountable +changes in his father’s behaviour lately--his sudden ageing and +listlessness; his fit of restlessness and gaiety, especially unlike the +man; his capricious treatment of Sir Hugo Willoughby; his unseasonable +yacht trip, in which he would allow no friends except his wife and +younger daughter to accompany him. He had appeared to come back from it +better, but that very morning Mrs. Drysdale had dropped some words to +her son which had suggested that his father had said or done something, +in the course of their absence, that had struck her as singular +behaviour. + +All pointed to one conclusion, the most melancholy and terrible, short +of the committal of crime, that can overtake a man. + +‘You mean,’ said young Tam, speaking on the spur of the moment, on a +desperate chance, with a sickly smile and a faltering tongue, ‘that +Mackinnon might have been master here, and that he is still not +unwilling to reap some of the fruits of your success. But there are two +at a bargain-making, if you decidedly object, which I’ve sometimes +doubted lately. Come, father, we are staying out too long, considering +it is November. We shall be having my mother out to look after us +presently. She will appear in her cap, or young Eppie will turn up +bareheaded. The air is getting chill since the sun went down. I think +there will be a touch of frost,’ he finished with a slight shiver. + +Auld Tam looked into his son’s face, which had grown white within the +last few minutes, while a nameless apprehension stared out of the scared +eyes. Tam Drysdale laughed a dry, harsh laugh, which prompted young Tam +instinctively to catch hold of his father’s arm. The grip was not shaken +off; on the contrary, it was yielded to as part of the play, while auld +Tam said plainly: + +‘You think I’m daft, Tam, and I could find it in my heart to wish I were +out of my wits on ae point. For a’ that, I’m as wise as I ever was, or +am ever likely to be. I can show you paper and penned words; though, +puir lad, you’ll rue you ever set een on them. In proof of what I’ve +said, c’wa’ with me, Tam, to my business-room. There’s time enough, or +we’ll mak’ time, for when the thing is to be brocht to licht there need +be no further ceremony. It’s business, Tam, of the most serious kind, +and family hours and rules must be set aside for what will wait for no +man. If we’re detained after the dinner-hour, we’ll send and say we’re +engaged, and bid the women go on without us.’ + +Young Tam followed his father full of doubt. He asked himself, and was +unable to answer the question, whether this was one of the cunning +delusions of madness? He reminded himself, and hated himself for the +reminder, as if it were basely dishonourable to auld Tam, who had been +master of the situation ever since his son had known him, that +contradiction was forbidden in this case, that to humour and soothe the +patient was the only possible treatment in the meantime. + +But when young Tam was seated at his father’s bidding, as if for a +prolonged stay in the business-room, and saw auld Tam--without bolting +the door to-day--unlock his desk and take out the old papers, the +new-comer felt instinctively, with a fresh shock, that there was method +in the other’s madness, and something tangible in his father’s +incredible assertion. + +It did not take long for young Tam to satisfy himself of the +authenticity of Gavin Mackinnon and Margaret Craig’s marriage contract +and the binding nature of its provision for the heirs. As the young man +read for himself, the full consequences of the settlement became +instantly present to him, and with it a keen, jarring sense of the irony +of fate. In the past he had hastily quarrelled with his lot; he had been +displeased to find himself the son of an employer and a rich man. He had +said often, and believed the words which he spoke, that he doubted the +righteousness of the laws of labour and capital and the distribution of +property--that he did not know what to make of the power over his +fellow-men which would fall to him. It was as if an evil genius had +taken him at his word, deprived him of position and possessions, and +freed him from responsibility. But, alas! in the interval which had +elapsed he had grown more than reconciled to circumstances. He had taken +up and learned to like the calling he was now summoned to abjure. He had +begun to build upon it a fine edifice of hope and promise. Young Tam +felt small and silly in addition to being ruined with his father. Would +Athole Murray, who was so quick to see inconsistencies, have mercy upon +him when she knew all? He had been claiming far more than mercy at her +hands within these last few happy months--would he sue in his adversity +for what she had denied him in his prosperity? He hardly thought so, +since he too had his pride, to which he was entitled. It was not pity +that he wanted; he felt to-day as if he could not brook pity, however +generous, least of all from Athole. + +But young Tam had sufficient self-restraint and thought and feeling for +others to recognise that this was not the moment for personal regrets, +let them be ever so sharp. + +‘When did you come upon this deed, father?’ the young man asked, +speaking with unconscious stiffness, which sounded like sternness. + +Auld Tam had been standing by the window with his back to his son as he +read. Tam Drysdale turned and looked imploringly in the face of his +questioner. + +‘Upon my soul, Tam,’ he said solemnly, ‘I only came upon the contract by +pure accident, two months syne. You will believe me, and I can bring +testimony to silence the world if it misdoubt me, which is like enough, +on that head. But that does not clear me of wyte [blame]. I ocht to have +had common prudence; I should not have been a hot-headed fule; I ocht +not to have run the risk of sic a hidden mine being sprung on you and +me.’ + +‘It was an oversight,’ said young Tam, with generosity in his very +bluntness. ‘It might have happened to anybody. It cannot be helped.’ + +‘No great time has been lost since the paper was brocht to me--I’ll tell +you how some other day,’ continued auld Tam, still with shamefacedness +and deprecation. ‘I would have spoken sooner, but I had to battle with +the temptation to remain for ever dumb. Oh, laddie, you dinna ken what +it has been!’ he exclaimed passionately. ‘If only truth and honesty +could have let me carry the story to the grave, and spare you and the +lave [rest]!’ + +Young Tam got up and wrung his father’s hand. + +‘Never mind us, father; we’ll do well enough. We owe you a good +education and an honest example.’ + +‘Thanks to you, Tam, for that word,’ said his father gratefully. + +‘I little thocht,’ he began again ruefully, ‘when I did my best to +beguile you into the business, what a burden I was binding on your +shouthers. A muckle concern that has broken down and will never be +built up again means enough scaith [injury] and scorn to stick to you +for life, with your feet catched in a net from which they’ll never work +themsel’s free.’ + +‘Better young shoulders than old to lift the load,’ said auld Tam’s son +loyally; ‘and it will be a mess indeed from which I shall not, with you +to help me, emerge in time. You do not give me half credit--though +you’ve said as much in words, when it comes to the rub--for having +developed some of your business faculty. But this discovery must be seen +to immediately,’ broke off young Tam, with a sort of brisk severity that +had a faint flavour of Dr. Peter in it. ‘I suppose Black and Fettes,’ +naming his father’s lawyers, ‘had better be spoken to before Mackinnon +is told. I don’t know much of him. He is not my style of man. I confess +I have never seen much in him, either good or bad, and I don’t fancy +there is much to see; but people seem to think he is a nice enough +fellow, so far as he goes. He may take into account how hard this is for +you, and how little you were to blame,’ said young Tam, with a return of +the hope which belongs to youth and comes back with a swiftness of +rebound in proportion to the violence of the blow that has laid +confidence low. ‘Mackinnon may be willing to come to terms--were it only +to grant us time. Besides---- ’ young Tam paused. He had the reluctance +to speak on the subject which a young man will show to an elder, which +the best brothers display when it is their sisters’ affairs that are +about to be discussed. ‘You must have seen for some time, father,’ he +went on awkwardly, ‘that Mackinnon is sweet on Clary.’ + +‘Or on what he tak’s to be her siller,’ said auld Tam sarcastically. + +‘I believe that he is attached to her, and that she returns the +attachment,’ asserted young Tam. + +‘And you would have us seek to ride out of our difficulties on the +attachment, as you call it, of twa young fules!’ said auld Tarn, in a +mortified voice. ‘Weel, I did think to make it up to the young felly in +that way; but then he was not to ken--nobody was to ken. I never thocht +to be indebted for grace to my dochters’ lauds [lovers].’ + +‘No, you would have had it all the other way,’ remarked young Tam, +unable to restrain a smile in spite of the gravity of the situation. ‘I +would not have you take advantage of anybody--I’m sure you know +that--and I would have it all plain and above-board. Lay everything +before him; but do not refuse to let him be just, or even generous. One +can stand a man’s generosity, if it is in the beggar. Do as you would be +done by.’ + +‘I daur say you’re richt, Tam,’ granted auld Tam, not without a lurking +profound admiration for his son’s moderation and good judgment, as well +as for his rectitude. ‘Indeed I have no manner of doubt you are. You +see what it is to bring a young head to reason out a thing. There are +cases where the young are mair reasonable and liberal than the auld. But +it is queer,’ he added, musing, ‘to be behadden to Gavin Mackinnon’s +son--to gang cap in hand and beg his forbearance.’ + +‘That is not the way to put it,’ objected young Tam; but he missed the +opportunity of putting it in any other way, for at that moment a servant +knocked and handed in Eneas Mackinnon’s card. + +Father and son looked at each other with honest eyes, that yet had a +cloud of confusion in them as of two conspirators caught in the act. + +Had he found it all out? Who had told him? Had Sandy Macnab betrayed the +little he knew? Were the Drysdales to be deprived of the grace of coming +forward and producing the deed in his favour, of which nobody except +themselves knew, which had been for some time in their hands, so that +the possessors might have destroyed it any day, but which they were now +prepared to bring to light? + +Auld Tam was the first to recover from this additional misfortune, and +to anticipate and demolish any plan his son might have made for +parleying--admitting nothing and denying nothing till Black and Fettes’ +advice was given. + +‘Let him come on,’ said Tam Drysdale sturdily, with something of his old +hardy independence and dash of pugnacity, now that he had made a clean +breast of it to his son. ‘If I have done him wrang, I have done you and +myself a hantle mair, and we’re willing to mak’ reparation to our last +shilling.’ + +But the moment Eneas entered it was clear that his intentions were of +the most pacific description--that he was the more agitated of the two +sides, and in a sense the more humbled--that he had come to ask and not +to grant grace. + +In truth, the Lieutenant had at last screwed up his courage to put an +end to the state of wretched suspense and perplexity in which he had +been living--to propose for Claribel Drysdale to her father, knowing all +the time with the most excruciating matter-of-factness of conviction, +how little the proposal was worth in a mercenary light. + +It was a proof of the pitch to which Eneas’s nerves were strung that the +circumstance of auld Tam’s not being alone, but in the company of his +son, in place of affording the suitor a welcome if somewhat cowardly +excuse to defer the cruel ordeal of the suit to another day, only +spurred him on to take the leap from which there was no returning. The +desperateness of the position lent the ‘heavy swell’ calmness, so that +it was with a certain dignity approaching to haughtiness that Eneas +began, after an ordinary preamble on the weather: + +‘If you will allow me a few words, Mr. Drysdale--I shall not detain you +long. I have admired Miss Drysdale ever since I knew her, though I was +aware---- ’ + +Here he was summarily interrupted. Many a time had Eneas Mackinnon +pictured to himself, with all the anguish of a shy, proud man, the +details of that interview. How the rich, self-made man whom Eneas +coveted for his father-in-law, to whose homespunness the wooer was fully +alive, whom he could not acquit of unvarnished purse-pride, would, in +spite of the recent alteration in his behaviour, and notwithstanding all +Claribel had said in her father’s defence, meet the advances of the +penniless lover with unbearable scorn and contumely. + +But Eneas had never gone so far as to imagine that he would be +peremptorily stopped in his little speech with ‘Not another word, sir! I +will not hear another word!’ or that young Tam, who knew the world, was +college-bred, and like other people, except that he had the reputation +of being a Radical, should instantly back his father with an imperative +‘Yes, Mackinnon, for your own sake, for all our sakes, be silent till +you know what you are about.’ + +Eneas Mackinnon got up from the chair which had been offered to him. + +‘If you will not so much as hear what I have to say, there is indeed +nothing to be done,’ he said, roused to indignation by the incredible +treatment he was receiving. ‘But you will pardon me if I tell you that I +think a little courtesy is due to a gentleman and an officer in her +Majesty’s service, who has done nothing to disgrace his birth and +position, though he is a poor man. I owe it also both to myself and to +Miss Drysdale, who I am certain would not thank me for any reserve on +this point, to let you know that it is not without warrant from her---- +’ + +‘Haud your tongue, you deevil, when you’re telled,’ cried auld Tam still +more vehemently and unceremoniously, ‘or it will be the waur for you! +Can you not tak’ a hint? Will you not let us leave you the freedom of +choice till you hear all?’ + +Eneas was confounded and disgusted. He was fain to hide his discomfiture +and escape from further outrage. He could only make a slight bow, which +was a tacit relinquishment of all future intercourse with Claribel +Drysdale’s father and brother--dear as she was to him--and move to the +door. But Tam Drysdale was again before him. + +‘Ne’er a fit shall you steer till you listen to my story, since you’ve +come in at the nick of time with yours. I’ll tak’ Black and Fettes into +my ain hands, Tam, or see them hanged! but Lieutenant Mackinnon shall +ken what he’s about, before he’s an hour aulder. He’ll not come here any +longer courtin’ an’ speerin’ Clary, without first hearing what her +father has cost him--unawares, sir--unawares. Let him see the contract, +Tam, and then we’ll hear whether he sings to a different tune.’ + +‘Don’t misjudge us, Mackinnon,’ said young Tam apologetically. ‘My +father has been very much put about lately, and, I can tell you, so may +everybody be when all is known. But if you will look at this paper you +will see that it is in your interest, and to prevent your prejudicing +it, in ignorance of what you are doing, that we are acting in this +manner.’ + +‘Do you ken the deed, Mr. Mackinnon?’ asked auld Tam a little more +composedly, but yet worked up into a state of excitement which kept him +from being silent. + +‘No,’ said Eneas, a little sulkily, still feeling himself an insulted +individual, a victim of a poor gentleman, yet not without a dim +comprehension that the Drysdales meant better by him in their strange +behaviour than he could understand, or perhaps was entitled to expect. + +‘It is your faither and mither’s marriage contract,’ said auld Tam, +coming to the point at once. ‘Did you ever hear tell o’t?’ + +‘Yes,’ said Eneas, in increased surprise; ‘I have heard my aunts in St. +Mungo’s Square speak of it many a time. We did not know what had become +of it; but I never thought it was of any consequence.’ + +‘You were wrang, then,’ was Tarn Drysdale’s short rejoinder; ‘but read +it for yoursel’ noo, when you’ve the chance, and see what you have to do +with it.’ + +Thus urged, Eneas Mackinnon stood still and read the paper put into his +hands, while the two Tams watched keenly his handsome, usually impassive +face. It had been working with various emotions before he began to read, +and as he read on it was hard to say what of rage or triumph or +compunction passed over this page of quivering flesh and blood, while +the truth dawned upon Eneas, as it had dawned upon others in turn, that +he had been during the whole course of his life unwittingly defrauded of +his due--by his own father and mother in the first place, and by +Claribel’s father in the second. + +With the knowledge came also the realization to the Lieutenant--a +realization not the less certain that it was a dull, vague pain as +yet--of how much he had suffered, what galling poverty for a man in his +station he had endured, how cheerless had been his prospects, and how +their hopelessness had early broken his spirit and crushed the life in +him. And he was standing in the presence of the man who had ‘unawares,’ +as he asserted, flourished on the unfair acquisition of Eneas’s +birthright, whose son and daughters had succeeded to every advantage +inherited by a rich man’s children. + +Moreover, this rich man--this old servant of Gavin Mackinnon’s--had +until lately treated Eneas with hardly veiled contempt, so that he had +come into Tam Drysdale’s company, half an hour before, in almost abject +dread of his withering scorn. + +The paper rustled in the young man’s grasp, and he bent his head over +it, till young Tam began to ask himself, and to telegraph with his eyes +to his father--was it quite fair after all thus to take their natural +enemy by surprise, though he had stepped in upon them unexpectedly, and +to subject him, while he was unprepared with the means of baffling their +observation, to so searching a scrutiny? + +Suddenly Eneas Mackinnon looked up and put down the paper. + +‘Well?’ he questioned coldly, as if he were the very incarnation of +caution. + +‘Weel,’ echoed Tam impatiently, in answer to the enigmatical remark, +‘are you satisfied that your mither’s property is yours--less the +purchase-money--in spite of all that is come and gone?’ + +‘It might have been mine, you mean, Mr. Drysdale,’ corrected Eneas +calmly. ‘It was sold and bought before I was born.’ + +‘But dinna you see that the bargain, for which there was no title, is +null and void?’ demanded Tam almost querulously. + +‘In law, perhaps, yes; in honour, no. My father had the purchase-money; +you bought the place in good faith and made the most of it, which we +should never have done. There is an end of the matter.’ + +‘Well, you’re a gentleman and no mistake,’ said auld Tam, with sudden +conviction. + +‘I hope so,’ said the Lieutenant, with his ordinary quietness; ‘not that +I have given any great example of it here’--he hastened to guard against +exaggeration and bathos, which are the peculiar horror of men of his +stamp. ‘I might, indeed, resent losing a chance in trade which has been +a splendid one in your hands; but it was lost mainly, on the face of the +transaction, by my father and mother’s blindness, and I have not been so +wise on my own account as to take it upon me to condemn the blunders of +my progenitors. Besides, I could not have made a kirk or a mill of the +works which have prospered so well with you. As it happens I’m in the +army, for better, for worse; and if I’m little good as a soldier, I +should do still less in any other character. What would you have?’ He +finished as if he would say, with a curious proud sincerity, ‘Where is +there any particular merit in what I’m doing? and I’m not going to take +credit for what I don’t deserve.’ + +But both auld Tam and young Tam contradicted him. + +‘I’m proud to know you, Mr. Mackinnon, sir,’ insisted Tam Drysdale, in +perfect earnestness and simplicity. ‘Ay, though I’m free to own I’ve +bocht the knowledge at a heavy cost. You’re come of a gude auld stock, +and you do it honour. Eh! Clary was aye a wise lass--I micht have kenned +that.’ + +At these words the Lieutenant softened. + +‘I am glad you think so, sir,’ he said, and he even gave a little +nervous laugh. ‘Will you tell her so? Will you prove your faith by your +deeds?’ + +‘That will I,’ answered auld Tam fervently. + +But young Tam was waiting to speak. + +‘I trust, Mackinnon, you give us credit for being, to the best of our +ability, honest men. As such it is impossible for us to let the +business rest here. It must be put into the lawyers’ hands. If a +compromise can be effected, well and good; we shall be only too +thankful, for I need hardly point out to you that, to men in business, +anything else would be about the greatest misfortune that could befall +them. If--after matters are settled,’ young Tam stammered, for he too +had to struggle with mingled pride and better feelings, ‘you should +still wish to be connected with us, I for one will be very glad.’ + +‘I thought matters were settled,’ said Eneas half loftily, half +languidly, ‘when Mr. Drysdale was good enough to praise your sister for +wisdom in the most foolish thing she has ever done. But if my future +relations will think the best of me,’ he added in an easier, more +friendly tone--‘I hope they will not be disappointed--and if they will +offer me a welcome, I need not say I am greatly obliged to them.’ + +‘Say no more,’ interposed auld Tam. ‘Clary has known best--we have +great cause to endorse her opinion and thank her for it. I’ll tell her +so with my ain lips; and although she has a mind of her ain, as a lassie +so by ordinar’ sensible has a richt to have, she’ll be pleased to hear +her father say so. Her mother will neither be to haud nor bind; and +little Eppie, who has been looking at me with beseeching een for weeks +past, will be as prood as gin you were Sir Hugie, whose turn will come +next. There’s the denner-bell; you’ll dine with us, sir--of course you +will. Dress? What’s dress among friends? The very Queen on the throne +looks ower’t on occasions. Forbye, you offishers’ worst coats have an +air that is wanting in we ceety men’s best.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +A NICE CALCULATION. + + +Dr. Peter had _carte blanche_ to dine at Drysdale Hall on every day of +the year. If his plate was not always laid for him, it was ready to be +brought when he wanted it. He might even come in at any stage of the +dinner, and in spite of his protestations have the soup and fish +recalled for his special benefit, while the rest of the company waited +cheerfully, and the success of the other courses was risked without a +groan, so heartily was he welcomed. But he had certainly never +contemplated breaking bread with Tam Drysdale this day. + +The truth is, there are more things than business which will not tarry +till a man has his way. Among these matters are the physical ills that +flesh is heir to. The popular poor man’s doctor, in a crowded district, +is pretty sure to be intercepted and turned aside from his goal, at the +very time that he is most anxious to avoid interruption and keep faith +with himself. Dr. Peter durst not defer his errand to another day, and +so he brought it to the dinner-table at Drysdale Hall, where he found +the little pleasant stir and excitement which betokens a happy family +event on the eve of its fulfilment. The very servants were sensible that +something of the kind was going on. Though Mr. Mackinnon had dined +frequently of late with the Drysdales, the subordinates had an +impression that this off-hand dinner was not like the other dinners, but +was a prelude to enlarged family gatherings without end. + +There were bright faces round the table, among which Claribel’s showed a +calm superiority to girlish tremors, while the Lieutenant’s was equally +free from all save an air of relief, and a mild basking in the rays of +his sun. + +Young Tam’s looked the most pre-occupied face, with an occasional knit +of the brows as if he had mental nuts to crack. + +The atmosphere round auld Tam was that of rest for the time, not of +warfare over; for he knew the battle was to re-commence to-morrow, a +tough enough contest still, to render it doubtful to which side victory +might incline. But when had auld Tam shrunk from a tussle with fortune, +or when had he feared to be beaten unless where he was hedged about with +such fatal casualties and inopportune disasters that no man could have +overcome them? But the hedge was broken down, and the rough way made +clear again, and what man could do he would, with his son Tam fighting +by his side. Only to-day, Tam Drysdale had a breathing-space to recover +from the weariness which had threatened to be deadly. It was rapidly +passing away before the first breath of open air, light, and liberty, +when a man speaks out what ought to have been proclaimed on the +housetop, but has lain hidden in secret places; when he consents to pay +his penalty like a man, and reviving heart and hope answer instantly to +the proper treatment of the disease, as the steel to the magnet, as the +green earth to the sun and rain. + +Dr. Peter did not know what to make of the scene. How could auld Tam sit +like a patriarch crowned with honour and well-doing, considering what +was on his conscience? How had he the face, the heart to entertain his +victim? Nay, it was plain that Tam Drysdale intended to perpetrate a +further piece of iniquity by allowing Eneas Mackinnon to marry Claribel, +by making him one of the family, a sharer in their prosperity and +adversity, in order to shut his mouth if there was ever any suspicion of +the truth. + +Did young Tam know anything of the unpardonable tampering with law and +justice? Could he have been suborned and seduced into crooked paths? He +was more silent and glummer than in his hobbledehoy days. He looked +harassed, almost careworn. Here was another stab to Dr. Peter, for he +had been fond of that lad, fonder than he knew. Young Tam too! Dr. +Peter’s righteous soul sickened with repugnance and shame. Auld Tam +noticed that his friend was not himself, and, as Athole had done in the +morning, pressed him with sympathetic inquiries after patients who were +in a better case than their doctor was. + +If Dr. Peter had but retained sufficient faith in auld Tam and in his +Maker, a good many hours of wretchedness and useless mortification would +have been saved. Peter Murray might have known that Tam Drysdale’s long +life of reverence and integrity would not go for nothing, that it is not +such as he who make shipwreck of conscience and character, and trample +religion and morals under foot, midway in their career. He might have +guessed that if auld Tam slipped and fell, it would only be to rise +again and mount to greater heights, though it were through the valley of +humiliation. + +If Dr. Peter had but known it, when he was seen to pass the dining-room +window, auld Tam’s eyes had sparkled with eager satisfaction. He had +murmured to his son: + +‘It’s like a play, Tam, ilka player dropping in at the precise moment to +fit into the performance, to hear what concerns him, and act his part in +the drammy.’ + +He was in reality burning for the ladies to be gone, to leave him and +the two young men and Dr. Peter, who had his interest in the +business--with regard to which he was about to be enlightened--to go +into it afresh. The opening it up to young Tam had been like the letting +out of waters, and auld Tam, having liberated the flood, was not +disposed to try the vain experiment of damming it up again. For that +matter, he laboured under a fit of reaction, with its tendency to rush +from one extreme to another, to shout in the market-place what he had +hitherto refrained from whispering in the ear. + +At Tam Drysdale’s first word a load was lifted from Dr. Peter’s +mind--the horrible load of being compelled to call a friend to account +for a miserable departure from duty--and if he would not turn from the +error of his ways to denounce him to the world. It was as if he had +awakened in an instant from a bad dream, when a whole phantasmagoria of +evil motives and unrighteous deeds vanished in the twinkling of an eye. +Dr. Peter was ready to thank God and take courage; nay more, to feel +affronted because he had done his friend a wrong which it would be +impossible to repair by immediately owning it. To tell auld Tam what Dr. +Peter had thought of him for the better part of a day would be to add +insult to injury. In all their future intercourse there would always be +a confidence, shyly withheld on the one side, though auld Tam admitted +frankly on the other: + +‘I was sorely tempet, Peter, if you will believe me, to hide all +knowledge of Gavin Mackinnon’s contract. You could never credit how I +was tempet, God help me! I dinna ken at this moment how the balance +might have turned, if it had not been that the twa Eppies were as true +as steel, and that I felt that I could not look my laddie Tam in the +face again if I gaed for the rest of my life with a lee in my richt +hand.’ + +It was Dr. Peter’s punishment for his want of faith that he had to +remain silent, hanging his fine head somewhat at this appeal. He would +never mention on what errand he had come so opportunely to Drysdale Hall +that evening. + +Later on Dr. Peter cut his knot of the thread in the tangled web without +difficulty: + +‘You can demand back from me my father’s share in the purchase-money you +paid for the works. Good. Then I can come upon your future +son-in-law--is it not so, Tam?--for his father’s having misled mine as +to the legality of the sale. In addition, I can try to prove that you +owe me a share of your profits during these intervening years, in +proportion to my father’s share in the concern, and to the state of the +works and business when you got them; and you can retaliate by showing +that you found the plant falling to pieces, and the dyeing trade at +Drysdale Haugh on its last legs--a ticklish contention, which might be +very profitable to the lawyers engaged in it, but for the rest of the +people who had to do with the suit, I take it the thing would be about +square to begin with.’ + +Sir Hugo Willoughby and Guy Horsburgh looked in during the evening--to +complete the _dramatis personæ_, auld Tam kept telling himself, though +only Sir Hugo had an interest, and that an indirect one, in the question +which was so momentous to the master of Drysdale Hall. The young +gentleman had paid his court to little Eppie, believing her to be a rich +man’s daughter. Sir Hugo’s lady-mother--and doubtless the rest of his +great relations would follow her example--had consented to put up with +the origin of Eppie and her fortune; but what if the fortune +disappeared, and the bonnie lass had only her face to depend upon for +their favour? What if her father, in place of being honoured in the +city, had been covered with disgrace--a man who had held land and works +without a warrant, and had so recklessly traded with them that he had +ended in becoming bankrupt, to the ruin of many better men than himself? +Sir Hugo had still a risk to run, but he might take his chance. He would +no longer be able to say that he had been beguiled into an alliance with +Eppie Drysdale and with trade under false pretences. + +Auld Tam felt so convinced that everything was leading up to a +_dénouement_, he took an opportunity to speak a few words aside to his +last visitor. + +‘I’ll give you your answer to-morrow, Sir Hugie, if that will please +you. I grant you’ve been patient, and I thank you for it, to what must +have seemed to you rank tyranny and a speerit of contradiction. But +you’ll ken better before you’re mony hours aulder. I’ll lay my reasons +before you, and you’ll admit I had cause for what I did.’ + +‘I have no doubt, sir, you acted for the best,’ said Sir Hugo, with the +most anxious deference, trembling lest he should spoil the propitious +moment by any false step. ‘I am sure your reasons are excellent, if only +you will entertain---- ’ + +‘Your proposal, and give you my younger dochter,’ auld Tam finished the +sentence. ‘Some things are worth waiting for, and the desire of your +heart and a gude wife are among them. Can you blame me that I’m loth to +lose her? You’ve some notion of what kind of dochter she’s been, and let +me tell you, Sir Hugie, that’s the best assurance of the wife she’ll +mak’ to him that gets her--I do not say to you, for there’s mony a slip +‘tween the cup and the lip. If she’s sweet to you, what do you think she +maun be to me, who dandled her in my arms--the bonniest and best of +weans [babies] from her cradle. How do you think Drysdale Hall will look +to me and mother when there’s ne’er a young lass to set it out and keep +it cheery? You young fellies that come seeking your own ends think +little of the blank you leave behind you when you carry the day.’ + +‘Forgive me, sir, I do think of it,’ protested Sir Hugo. ‘I know that I +am selfish, and that I ask far more than I deserve; but if there is +anything I can do---- ’ + +‘Mak’ her happy, man,’ said auld Tam, ‘if she’s ever yours, for there +are some craws to be pu’d yet between you and me. Mind that it was your +will to raise her to your state--if so be she is raised. I’ve no fear +but that she’ll make a gentle leddy, for she’s that already. Then if +you’re gude to her, as a man should be to the mate he has chosen out of +all the world, her mother and me will bless and not ban you.’ + +There was a little music and a great deal of talk in the warmth and +brightness--for auld Tam went clean against the modern vagary of fashion +which prefers semi-darkness to light--and in the flowery fragrance of +the Drysdale Hall drawing-room. + +Mrs. Drysdale would have willingly foregone her nightly game of bézique, +but Eppie would not suffer the omission. Perhaps she had a premonition +that her mother would soon have to relinquish that and many another +kindly custom dear from old use and wont, doubly dear from mother love. +The sole change young Eppie would consent to make was that Sir Hugo +might join the game; and in order not to render the privilege too +peculiar, she invited his friend Guy Horsburgh to be the fourth in the +quartette--a piece of good breeding on account of which Sir Hugo, with +all his virtues, was not above being piqued for the twentieth part of a +minute. + +Clary was at the piano playing occasionally, with Eneas Mackinnon to +turn over her music and talk to her in the intervals. + +Auld Tam and Dr. Peter sat on a couch, saying little, simply enjoying +the smiling peace of the scene. Tam Drysdale leant back, and had his +arms crossed above his head in an easy unconventional attitude, while he +stared fitfully into the fire. No contrast could be greater than the air +the room presented to the agitated conversation between the father and +the son on the terrace in the afternoon, or the breathless explanation +with Eneas Mackinnon in the business-room afterwards. + +After the storm comes the calm, but one never knows when a bomb-shell +may not fall and burst amidst the most tranquil surroundings. + +The author of the disturbance on this occasion was young Tam, who had +been sitting buried in an easy-chair, busy with a paper and pencil, as +if he were torturing himself and his neighbours by working out a +succession of double acrostics. Suddenly he rose with a flushed face and +generally excited mien. He walked across to his father, holding up the +sum of his calculations. + +‘Father,’ he said, ‘when your father’s cousin Drysdale, of Drysdale +Haugh, died in Scotland, and his niece by marriage and adoption, Mrs. +Craig, died at Calcutta---- ’ + +Tam put the speaker away with a half-peremptory, half-reproachful +gesture. + +‘Hooly [stop]! Tam, we’ve had enough of this for one day. Mind, the +upshot of the story is not so new to some of us as to you. It must be +gone into again presently, and every blessed thing sifted to the bottom. +There’s no help for that. But I think it is neither judicious nor +altogether ceevil to Lieutenant Mackinnon yonder, who has behaved like a +perfect gentleman, for you, while in his company--though he’s no +heeding--to keep hammering on at the unfortunate transaction in which +his father and mother were the maist to blame, and to rake up the +slender nature of the connection between his grandmother and auld +Drysdale.’ + +‘But I must speak, and the sooner the better,’ cried young Tam, not even +troubling in his excitement to modulate his voice. ‘If the matter be +gone into, as it certainly will if I have a voice in it, it cannot be +done on mistaken premises. There is something else wrong which must be +seen to instantly. You know the period of time that intervened between +the deaths of the uncle and niece.’ + +‘It was some twa hours,’ said auld Tam, slowly and in a stupefied way, +for the events of the day were proving too much for him, while Dr. Peter +sat bolt upright and looked all alive. Then auld Tam shook himself up +and spoke more definitely; ‘auld Drysdale died here--that is, at +Drysdale Haugh--when the knock was chappin’ twal’, on the 11th of June, +as I’ve heard tell. Mrs. Craig died on the same day, at Calcutta, at twa +in the afternoon--twa hours later; and I’ve been assured that twa +minutes langer breath for her would have been enough to constitute her +infant her heir.’ + +‘Ay, but I am prepared to show that the advantage is all on the other +side. The question is not one of law, but of science, and nobody has +seen it in that light. Allowance has not been made for the difference of +time in different longitudes. As you count hours by the earth’s course +round the sun, Mrs. Craig died about an hour and a half before instead +of two hours after her uncle.’ + +‘Gude preserve us!’ exclaimed Tam, while Dr. Peter started to his feet +with an ear-piercing ‘Whew!’ that caused Eneas Mackinnon at the piano to +raise his eyebrows, Clary beside him to shrug her shoulders, and the +whole bézique party to pause and look round for an instant. + +‘You dinna mean it,’ said auld Tam almost piteously. ‘Is it so?’ He +turned helplessly to Dr. Peter. ‘Are the tables turned? Was I so lang +kept out of my ain? Have I been twice wranged and never the wrangdoer?’ + +‘I make little doubt of it. I believe young Tam is right, but I must go +over the calculation for myself--it is easy enough--if you will give me +a minute. To think the difference of hemispheres never occurred to the +lawyers who administered the will! You see what it is to have a son a +student--the first in his class in mathematics. Chemistry is not +everything, eh, Tam?’ + +‘I wish he had spoken suner,’ said auld Tam, with a groan over the +anguish from which he might have been spared. + +‘The calculation never occurred to me any more than to the lawyers who +sat upon the will,’ said young Tam modestly. ‘The astronomical +reckoning is, as Dr. Peter says, plain and simple enough. Every +schoolboy is taught to make it, though he may not be able to put the +knowledge into practice at a moment’s notice. I did not think of the old +will, which I never saw till to-day.’ + +‘Ca’ him here,’ said Tam, indicating the ‘offisher lad.’ ‘I’ll do to him +as I would be done by.’ + +But Eneas Mackinnon did not receive the last news as he had received the +first. He reddened violently at the idea of his mother’s having entered +upon and disposed of an inheritance which was never hers. He recoiled +from the prospect of being made out auld Tam’s debtor to an +overwhelmingly hopeless extent, instead of Tam’s being proved +his--Eneas’s--debtor to an amount which the young man’s generosity and +his love for Claribel rendered easily redeemable. His pride and his good +feeling had been alike flattered by the power, rare with him, of +granting an amnesty and dispensing favours. His slow-working intellect +could not readily grasp the astronomical calculation, easy as it was, +which was said to overturn the will. Fortune, if not the Drysdales, +appeared to be playing strange tricks upon him. It was a return to the +old story, and something worse. He was reduced, in the course of a few +hours, to his former detested condition of genteel poverty and absence +of any chance of independence and moderate prosperity. Added to it, he +was already loaded with huge money obligations to auld Tam Drysdale, +which Eneas could no more think of retrieving, in the natural term of +his life, than he could look forward to receiving the baton of a +field-marshal. Auld Tam was wise in his generation. He might not essay +what was equivalent to the vain task of taking breeches from a +breechless Highlander. He might cancel Eneas’s mountain-load of +obligations, but neither the obligations nor the cancelling formed a +fitting preparation dim recollection of another extraordinary factor in +this medley of law and justice. + +‘I’ve a notion,’ he said, ‘that if property is held for the space of +forty years or thereabouts, by other than the rightful owners, through +some mischance--like this of mistaken time--then a law called ‘the law +of proscription’ steps in and bestows the property on the holder, +forbidding a restoration to rightful heirs that leaps over more than one +generation. It is upwards of forty years since Mrs. Craig’s child’s +title to Drysdale Haugh was made out, and that title has never been +challenged, to the best of my knowledge, till now. On the other hand, +Mrs. Mackinnon did not keep the place in her possession for much more +than half the specified time. She sold it to the lawful heir. I cannot +tell what to make of it, Tam; it beats me.’ + +It was Clary who settled the question when she came over and asked what +they were all talking over so earnestly, and was told as well as so +complicated a story could be conveyed in a few words. She thought a +little, and then gave her decision without hesitation: + +‘Let well alone, let matters be as they are: my father could not, if he +wished it, exact from Mr. Mackinnon a forfeit which no officer without a +large private fortune could pretend to pay. And what could Mr. Mackinnon +make of the Drysdale Haugh works, if the law were to decree them to him, +while the farm without the dyeing and calico-printing would not, in the +present state of agriculture, support the old farmhouse, if it could be +restored, stripped of the modern mansion. Let everything remain as it +is. I take it for granted,’ she ended, looking up with a little smile at +Eneas, ‘the law will not put us all in prison, as it did your aunts in +St. Mungo’s Square, because we decline to avail ourselves of its costs +and surprises and delays.’ + +While successions were thus bandied, fortunes turned upside down, and +lives reversed, the bézique-players, in utter undim recollection of +another extraordinary factor in this medley of law and justice. + +‘I’ve a notion,’ he said, ‘that if property is held for the space of +forty years or thereabouts, by other than the rightful owners, through +some mischance--like this of mistaken time--then a law called ‘the law +of proscription’ steps in and bestows the property on the holder, +forbidding a restoration to rightful heirs that leaps over more than one +generation. It is upwards of forty years since Mrs. Craig’s child’s +title to Drysdale Haugh was made out, and that title has never been +challenged, to the best of my knowledge, till now. On the other hand, +Mrs. Mackinnon did not keep the place in her possession for much more +than half the specified time. She sold it to the lawful heir. I cannot +tell what to make of it, Tam; it beats me.’ + +It was Clary who settled the question when she came over and asked what +they were all talking over so earnestly, and was told as well as so +complicated a story could be conveyed in a few words. She thought a +little, and then gave her decision without hesitation: + +‘Let well alone, let matters be as they are: my father could not, if he +wished it, exact from Mr. Mackinnon a forfeit which no officer without a +large private fortune could pretend to pay. And what could Mr. Mackinnon +make of the Drysdale Haugh works, if the law were to decree them to him, +while the farm without the dyeing and calico-printing would not, in the +present state of agriculture, support the old farmhouse, if it could be +restored, stripped of the modern mansion. Let everything remain as it +is. I take it for granted,’ she ended, looking up with a little smile at +Eneas, ‘the law will not put us all in prison, as it did your aunts in +St. Mungo’s Square, because we decline to avail ourselves of its costs +and surprises and delays.’ + +While successions were thus bandied, fortunes turned upside down, and +lives reversed, the bézique-players, in utter unconsciousness of what +was going on in the same room, proceeded with their play--shuffling and +dealing their cards, pairing their couples, running up their rows of +figures. It was as if the four were typical players, engaged in the same +game of life which was being enacted in another form, without their +knowledge, by their side, and that the counters in reality were human +heads and hearts. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +ATHOLE MURRAY SKETCHES A MODERN FUGGEREI--THE MISS MACKINNONS’ +ULTIMATUM. + + +Athole Murray did not see her father for the next twenty-four hours. He +lingered at Drysdale Hall till it was late, not returning to Barley +Riggs till she had reluctantly retired--ostensibly to rest, actually to +pass a sleepless night. She would fain have sat up for him, but did not +like to disobey his orders on this night of all others. He had to start +by break of day to attend a professional consultation which was to be +held at some distance. He was detained longer than he expected, took the +round of his patients on his way home, and did not reappear at Barley +Riggs till Athole’s tea-hour, when he walked in almost simultaneously +with auld and young Tam. + +In the interval Athole had got sufficient time to brood over what she +had made out of his conversation the previous day, with the conclusion +she had leaped to of calamity, not unmingled with disgrace, hanging over +the Drysdales. She could not fathom it, but the impression was there. +When the blow fell, would her relations be the same to young Tam? All +her heart was melting to him to atone for the injustice of fortune and +the injury inflicted by another, though she knew not by whom. She had +been fond of auld Tam. She could not lightly think evil of him, though +she had been sorely perplexed by his conduct lately; but at least young +Tam was blameless, honourable, and trustworthy--she could swear to that. +She felt all at once impelled to comfort him, with a soft but +irresistible impulse which no force could stay. + +While she was in this mood the three men walked in upon her, full of +their strange story of a marriage contract, and a last will, of lost +documents, and overlooked problems of science, restitution, and +compromise. The speakers were all eager, and, as it seemed to her in her +shaken spirits, all rejoicing to the verge of exultation. They were so +bent on telling her their story, and so sure of her sympathy, that they +did not miss it when it failed to flow forth as it ought to have done; +nobody said, as he might have said, ‘You are not answering--you are not +glad; what has come over you?’ + +Young Tam would have been the last to do it, for he was the most carried +away, the gayest. He seemed taken out of himself, as he stood there like +a victor in the flush of victory, to whom all must yield. + +And do what Athole would, she who was still thrilling with the sense of +what she had almost made up her mind to be to him if he were the loser, +who was dragged two ways between a sense of blank disappointment at the +instantaneous fading away of the vision which in a night had grown so +sweet and a feeling of intense pride and pleasure for his sake, that his +hand had cut the knot and rescued auld Tam from his strait, could not +for her life resist young Tam’s new attitude as a conqueror. Her eyes +fell before his. Her colour went and came; she could not laugh, she +could not speak, she did not know how long she would be able to breathe. +Her hands trembled so that she had to clasp them tightly to keep them +still. She felt the ground slipping from beneath her feet. + +Her father was the first to remark upon her silence. + +‘Is there anything the matter with you, Athie?’ inquired Dr. Peter, like +a grey-headed _enfant terrible_, and then he wound up with the _mal à +propos_ remark, ‘You are not like yourself.’ + +Auld Tam tapped his friend on the arm: + +‘Come awa’, man; we are twa ower mony. Leave her to a younger doctor. +Dod! did you never suspect that the wind blew in that quarter?’ in +answer to the look of bewilderment, enlightenment, tender regret, and +unselfish satisfaction with which his hint was met. ‘There is nane so +blind as a clever, honourable gentleman.’ + +When the pair were beyond hearing, auld Tam had his joke out of the +situation. + +‘You’ll never have the face to object now, Peter, when you’ve given the +lad every encouragement--treated him as if he had been a son of your +ain, from the time he went after your lassie.’ + +‘I cannot leave my father, and I’ll never be able to look your mother in +the face. You know she cannot abide me,’ protested Athole to young Tam. + +‘You will not be far from your father,’ he told her; ‘and as for my +mother, when she sees that you give me more than my due, and finds what +you can do for her son, she will not know how highly to prize you. +Besides, you are going to make up to her for the loss of Clary and +Eppie.’ + +‘Are you so mad as to think I shall ever be like little Eppie--like Lady +Willoughby of Willoughby Court--to your mother?’ + +‘You will fill your own place as young Mrs. Tam, to whom my mother will +pay all respect. I say, Athole, you can afford to be second best with +her. You are the style of woman who can consent to that.’ + +If Athole was likely to be second best with mother Eppie, there was +every indication of her holding her own with auld Tam, when before he +left she sketched for him a Glasgow version of the Augsburg Fuggerei, a +Drysdale quarter of St. Mungo’s city, built expressly for the +accommodation of the working classes, which he vowed if he rose above +trade troubles he would rear as a memorial of his deliverance from a +great temptation and a great downfall. + +‘And young Tam’s initials shall be intertwined with yours, Athole, and +wrocht beneath mine and Eppie’s aboon ilka door.’ + +The Lieutenant hesitated whether the two discoveries in relation to the +marriage contract and the will should be communicated to his aunts. He +was not at all sure how they would take the news. But Claribel advocated +entire openness. + +‘They are entitled to hear,’ she said. ‘Besides, they will only believe +what they like; and they will remain convinced that they did the best +for you and everybody. So far as intentions went, I am sure they are +right.’ + +Claribel too proved right, as she generally was. + +‘Didna we tell you about the marriage settlement? And were we not to be +trusted to mak’ everything as siccar as law and auld Dauvit Milne and +that laddie Dalgleish, Teeny Carstairs’ man, could bind them? As for any +story at this time of the day about auld Drysdale’s living longer than +Maggie Craig’s mother, because he was in Scotland and she was in India, +it’s perfect havers on the face o’t--more than that, it’s clean +profanity, as if death couldna travel faster than the earth and the sun +either, and do his work as sune here as there. We may dismiss that lee. +No that I’m for a minute evening your worthy father to be a leear, +Clary, my dear,’ Miss Janet condescended to correct herself. ‘Everybody +kens he is a maist respectable man. But men, begging your pardon, +Lieutenant, are simple, and it stands to nature that they will believe +what suits their purpose, though it’s as wild a ferlie as ever set up an +auld ballant. So, Lieutenant, you micht have been a bleacher and dyer in +your ain person instead of an offisher in her Majesty’s service, but I +think you and Clary will agree with me that you’re better as you +are--you’ll allow we did the best for you.’ + +‘’Deed did we,’ chimed in Miss Bethia; ‘and now you’ll get your portion +back again, like Joseph--or was it Benjamin?--and Clary here into the +bargain.’ + + +THE END. + + +BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79373 *** diff --git a/79373-h/79373-h.htm b/79373-h/79373-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..674a7a1 --- /dev/null +++ b/79373-h/79373-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5482 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + <head> +<link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + +<meta charset="utf-8"> +<title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Saint Mungo’s city; vol. 3 [of 3], +by Sarah Tytler. +</title> +<style> + +a:link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + + link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + +a:visited {background-color:#ffffff;color:purple;text-decoration:none;} + +a:hover {background-color:#ffffff;color:#FF0000;text-decoration:underline;} + +body{margin-left:4%;margin-right:6%;background:#ffffff;color:black;font-family:"Times New Roman", serif;font-size:medium;} + +.c {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} + +.fint {text-align:center;text-indent:0%; +margin-top:2em;} + +.figcenter {margin:3% auto 3% auto;clear:both; +text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} + + h1 {margin-top:5%;text-align:center;clear:both; +font-weight:normal;} + + h2 {margin-top:4%;margin-bottom:2%;text-align:center;clear:both; + font-size:100%;font-weight:normal;} + + hr {width:90%;margin:2em auto 2em auto;clear:both;color:black;} + + hr.full {width: 60%;margin:2% auto 2% auto;border-top:1px solid black; +padding:.1em;border-bottom:1px solid black;border-left:none;border-right:none;} + + img {border:none;} + +.lftspc {margin-left:.25em;} + +.nind {text-indent:0%;} + + p {margin-top:.2em;text-align:justify;margin-bottom:.2em;text-indent:4%;} + +.pagenum {font-style:normal;position:absolute; +left:95%;font-size:55%;text-align:right;color:gray; +background-color:#ffffff;font-variant:normal; +font-style:normal;font-weight:normal; +text-decoration:none;text-indent:0em;} + +.pdd {padding-left:1em;text-indent:-1em;} + +.rt {text-align:right;vertical-align:top;} + +.rtb {text-align:right;vertical-align:bottom;} + +small {font-size: 70%;} + +table tr {vertical-align:top;} + +.smcap {font-variant:small-caps;font-size:100%;} + +table {margin-top:2%;margin-bottom:2%;margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;border:none;} + +div.poetry {text-align:center;} +div.poem {font-size:90%;margin:auto auto;text-indent:0%; +display: inline-block; text-align: left;} +.poem .stanza {margin-top: 1em;margin-bottom:1em;} +.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: .45em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + +</style> + </head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79373 ***</div> + +<hr class="full"> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="369" height="550" alt=""> +</div> + +<h1>SAINT MUNGO’S CITY</h1> + +<p class="c">A Novel</p> + +<p class="c"><span class="smcap">By</span> SARAH TYTLER<br> +<small>AUTHOR OF ‘THE BRIDE’S PASS,’ ‘WHAT SHE CAME THROUGH,’ +‘BEAUTY AND THE BEAST,’ ETC.</small><br><br> + +<img src="images/colophon.png" +width="100" +height="115" +alt=""> + +<br><br> +IN THREE VOLUMES +VOL. III.<br><br> +London<br> +CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY<br> +1884<br> +[<i>All rights reserved</i>]</p> + +<h2><a id="CONTENTS_OF_VOL_III">CONTENTS OF VOL. III.</a></h2> + +<table> +<tr><td><small>CHAPTER</small></td> <td>  </td> +<td><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="rtb"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII.</a></td><td> THE MISS MACKINNONS’ HARMONIOUS LITTLE ARRANGEMENT </td><td class="rtb"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rtb"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII.</a></td> +<td class="pdd"> THE OFFICERS OF JUSTICE IN ST. MUNGO’S SQUARE—CLARIBEL DRYSDALE STANDS BY HER COLOURS</td> +<td class="rtb"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX.</a></td><td class="pdd"> ‘LOVE WILL VENTURE IN WHERE WISDOM AINCE HAS BEEN’</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX.</a></td><td class="pdd"> A HORRIBLE SUSPICION ASSAILS AULD TAM</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI.</a></td><td class="pdd"> THE SUSPICION BECOMES A CERTAINTY</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII.</a></td><td class="pdd"> IN THE BALANCE</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII.</a></td><td class="pdd"> A DROWNING MAN’S STRAWS</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV.</a></td><td class="pdd"> AULD TAM ‘FEY’</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">XXXV.</a></td><td class="pdd"> SIR HUGO LAYS HIMSELF AND WILLOUGHBY COURT AT YOUNG EPPIE’S FEET</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">XXXVI.</a></td><td class="pdd"> THE SEAL TO SIR HUGO’S SUIT</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">XXXVII.</a></td><td class="pdd"> A CHARMED SAIL</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">XXXVIII.</a></td><td class="pdd"> THE LAST OF RORY OF THE SHELTIES—DR. PETER ON THE SCENT</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">XXXIX.</a></td><td class="pdd"> THE SACRIFICE</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">XL.</a></td><td class="pdd"> A NEW CALCULATION</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#Page_292">292</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">XLI.</a></td><td class="pdd"> ATHOLE MURRAY SKETCHES A MODERN FUGGEREI—THE MISS MACKINNONS’ ULTIMATUM</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#Page_317">317</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1">{1}</a></span></p> + +<h1><a id="SAINT_MUNGOS_CITY">SAINT MUNGO’S CITY.</a></h1> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.</a><br><br> +<small>THE MISS MACKINNONS’ HARMONIOUS LITTLE ARRANGEMENT.</small></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">To</span> begin with, something closed the Miss Mackinnons’ lips on this point, +and not a word was said among them of the defrauding of Miss Mackinnon +and Miss Janet to enrich Miss Bethia, sitting with downcast eyes, +wringing the hands hidden in her lap.</p> + +<p>At last Miss Janet said, not so much bitterly as with forced gaiety:</p> + +<p>‘You are up in the buckle [exalted], Betheye—an heiress; you’ll no be +speaking to me and Meye.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2">{2}</a></span></p> + +<p>‘Oh, Janet!’ burst out Miss Bethia, breaking down and sobbing with +mingled pain and shame. ‘Do you think I would touch the money? I’ll gie +it back, every penny, to you and Meye, the moment I’ve got it into my +fingers.’</p> + +<p>‘But there’s twa and whiles three at a bargain-making,’ said Miss Janet, +with wounded pride in her voice. ‘Do you think we would tak’ from +anither—though she happened to be our sister—what was ours, but had +been wulled awa’ from us?’</p> + +<p>‘But that would be cruel!’ protested Miss Bethia, in still greater +distress. ‘How could I help it? An ill-kinded man! Gude guide us!’ +pausing in horror; ‘to think that I should speak ill of him, and him +hardly in the mools. But I never set een on him, never.’</p> + +<p>‘You gowk, what does that signify?’ Miss Janet was provoked into +treating the heiress with little courtesy.</p> + +<p>‘What ails her?’ cried Miss Mackinnon wrathfully. ‘Is she pretendin’ to +greet for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3">{3}</a></span> the man, now that he has left her the maist of his money? I +cannot stand such hypocrisy.’</p> + +<p>Miss Bethia wept on, regardless of the good fortune, which was +misfortune to her, and equally unrestrained by the manner in which her +sorrow was misunderstood.</p> + +<p>‘What can I do?’ she lamented. ‘I never wanted your shares; I never +thocht money would come between me and you and Meye.’</p> + +<p>Miss Janet was a little softened.</p> + +<p>‘You can do nothing—as long as the paper stands, the money’s yours. But +we’re no blaming you, save for being silly—and we’ll tak’ the will for +the deed.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, thank you! thank you, Janet!’ said Miss Bethia gratefully. ‘If only +Meye and you will not tak’ me for a traitor and hypocrite—and me never +to have seen the man!—I’ll no mind so muckle. But is there no way to +gie back the money, and share and share alike as we should have done? +Why can I not do as I like with my ain, as he did?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4">{4}</a></span></p> + +<p>‘You’re fast enough with your ain,’ said Miss Janet, in fresh +displeasure. ‘It has not been yours mair than an hour. I’ll tell you +what, Betheye,’ the speaker relapsed into a sardonic mood, ‘it’s a’ very +weel to say what you’ll do or not do the noo; but it’s as likely as not +that the word o’ the sillar will bring some fair-spoken blackguard of a +man after you. You’ll marry him fast; then Meye and me will be left in +the lurch, and he’ll help you to spend the money that should have been +ours.’</p> + +<p>‘Never!’ declared Miss Bethia; and she failed to simper as of old, but a +dull-red rose in her lined face and spread over it. She had, as she +would have said, given up all thought of a man for many a day; but +mercenary as were the notions attributed to this man, the sudden revival +of the vision brought a shy, guilty sense of gratification, which the +next moment covered poor Miss Bethia with confusion and remorse. Would +she sacrifice her sisters even for the best man that ever breathed? ‘I +wonder at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5">{5}</a></span> you, Janet!’ she said, so vehemently that there was a +suspicion of weakness and fear in the vehemence; ‘an auld maid like me.’</p> + +<p>‘There’s nae fules like old anes,’ said Miss Janet jauntily; ‘and you’ll +cease to be an auld maid when the scamp has made you a young wife. Ye +ken you’ll be young among the mawtrons, though you’re auld among the +maidens.’</p> + +<p>‘It’s cruel,’ repeated Miss Bethia, with an ominous intensity of +distress in the kindling fire of temptation. ‘Oh! I wish I had the +horrible money to fling it into the fire, or cast it into Clyde.’</p> + +<p>‘What good would that do?’ demanded the matter-of-fact Miss Janet, +‘unless you wanted him to loup in and fish it out.’</p> + +<p>Miss Bethia groaned.</p> + +<p>‘Stop her greetin’,’ broke in Miss Mackinnon, in greater disgust than +before. ‘I canna bide sic false pretences, Betheye; it’s like haudin’ an +ingan [onion] to your een. Hoo can ye try sic a trick upon Janet and +me?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6">{6}</a></span></p> + +<p>‘I wull greet,’ Miss Bethia suddenly turned upon her sisters; ‘I have +cause to greet. I thocht my ain sisters liked and trusted me, and I was +prood to slave wi’ them and for them; but I find I was mista’en when +they’re ready to misdoubt me, for nae faut o’ mine, and to tant me +because of the wrongdoing of another.’</p> + +<p>Miss Janet was taken aback by this new attitude of Miss Bethia, and the +feelings reflected on her face were quickly caught up by her elder +sister. They both paused, irresolute what to say next.</p> + +<p>‘We dinna misdoubt you, Betheye,’ said Miss Janet, in a more subdued +tone. ‘But you maun grant this has been a shock as well as a hardship to +us—the younger to be served out of the elders’ portions—the elder to +be dependent on the younger’s generosity, or whatever you like to ca’t.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, it is maist abominable!’ admitted Miss Bethia, with all her heart. +‘But it is no generosity—it’s justice which ocht to be done; and surely +I’ll be helped to do’t,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7">{7}</a></span> though I’ve to get the Queen to back me.’</p> + +<p>‘It’s an expensive road to the Queen, though her Majesty is very gude +and kind,’ said Miss Janet, not affording any encouragement to the +scheme, but refraining from the strong derision she had been practising. +The next moment she added: ‘I think there may be an easier plan—it has +just flashed upon me—if you’re in earnest, Betheye, as I do not +question.’</p> + +<p>‘Try me,’ said Miss Bethia, with trembling eagerness.</p> + +<p>‘Weel, I apprehend there’s just this parchment binding you doon—I said, +as long as the paper stands we’ve but to submit. But what is to hinder +us from making awa’ wi’t? The wull concerns nane but oorsel’s and the +servants—that dour, sly jaud of a housekeeper and her man. We are +perfectly agreed, and we can easily settle wi’ servants; we’ll pay them +every bawbee of their legacy, though it’s twice as muckle as it need +have been—and that is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8">{8}</a></span> all they’ll care for. What need is there to keep +the paper and fash our heads with it? We’ll tear it up, and think nae +mair o’t, while we divide Jean Mackinnon’s money fair among oorsel’s.’</p> + +<p>‘The very thing,’ said Miss Bethia, with a great sigh of relief and of +lurking regret that the legacy had not been ten thousand or ten hundred. +In that case, even the third fraction of it might have constituted her +an heiress, with all an heiress’s privileges and trials. She might have +been courted, she might have needed to stand firm, to decline to be +wooed, to give her suitors a dignified yet amiable dismissal. There was +glamour in the prospect, but it was not for Miss Bethia. ‘To destroy the +wull,’ she hammered on at Miss Janet’s project, ‘which deals just with +the servants, to whom we can make their legacy gude, while we are fully +agreed on a fresh division of Jean Mackinnon’s money, is so easy and +natural. I wonder it did not occur to us at aince. Let us do it this +minute, Janet,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9">{9}</a></span> before Mr. Mair or ony of the gentlemen come back.’ Miss +Bethia was opposed to the least delay. ‘Shall I tak’ out the paper and +tear it?’ she cried.</p> + +<p>‘On second thochts, it had better be brunt, and then there will be no +trouble with the fragments,’ said Miss Janet, gratified with having been +the originator of a good idea, and full of importance in putting it into +execution. ‘I believe I have heard,’ continued Miss Janet dogmatically, +‘that, when a wull is brunt in this way, the parties interested stand +round a can’le, and each holds a corner of the dockiment over the lowe, +so as to mak’ sure they’re all consenting to the destruction; then if +any wyte [blame] is incurred, it will fa’ on all alike.’</p> + +<p>‘But is there ony fear o’ wyte?’ asked Miss Bethia, startled. ‘Maybe, +after a’, we had better wait and ask Mr. Mair.’</p> + +<p>‘Maybe, after a’, we had better let the wull stand,’ said Miss Janet +scornfully, for the resource hit upon had by this time re<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10">{10}</a></span>commended +itself thoroughly to her. It would restore her own and Miss Mackinnon’s +birthright, by the curl of a flame, if not by the stroke of a pen, and +thus immediately wipe out the insult and loss inflicted upon them. And +the act would prevent any danger of Miss Bethia’s wavering in her +design, or being overborne by the arguments of others.</p> + +<p>Not only was the plan Miss Janet’s, and therefore right in her eyes; she +was proud of it, and sought to keep it in her own possession, and carry +it out independently for herself and her sisters. She enjoyed the notion +of astonishing and discomfiting Mr. Mair by her sharpness and +promptitude. In fact, Miss Janet had got out her head, and was bent on +‘running her own road.’</p> + +<p>‘You ken I did not mean to let the wull stand,’ said Miss Bethia, hurt, +and reproachful. ‘But you’ll speak to Mr. Mair after. You’ll tell him +what you’ve done with the wull he gave up to you.’</p> + +<p>‘I’ll speak to Mair when he speaks to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11">{11}</a></span> me,’ said Miss Janet, full of +refractoriness. ‘What has he, ony mair than his clerk, to do with Fenton +of Strathdivie’s wull, that was made on our account? Mair drew it up, as +ony ither writer micht have done; but it was not his wull, or yours +either, Betheye, as ane micht think, to hear ye speak. You’ve sune +learnt to tak’ a great deal upon you. You seem to forget, because you’ve +been preferred without reason, that we’re your elders, and Meye’s the +head of the hoose.’</p> + +<p>‘I dinna forget,’ said Miss Bethia, with a full heart.</p> + +<p>Miss Janet went on harshly:</p> + +<p>‘If you’re in earnest in makin’ reparation by being willin’ to join Meye +and me, in what we’ve had cause to suppose you had fixed to do, ye’ll +say no more about it.’</p> + +<p>Miss Bethia said no more.</p> + +<p>When it was put to Miss Mackinnon whether she would support her sisters +in their spirited measure, she replied with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12">{12}</a></span> hoarse emphasis, +‘Certainly!’ and looked about for a matchbox.</p> + +<p>There was a wax taper by the inkstand, and Miss Janet was in such a +hurry that she would not wait to ring for a candle, though it seemed +doubtful at the first glance whether the little light could effectually +consume the two or three broad-margined, widely-written, crackling pages +of which the will was composed.</p> + +<p>‘We’ll tak’ it leaf by leaf,’ said Miss Janet methodically. ‘There are +only three o’ us; but I’ll haud twa corners, while you and Meye can tak’ +the other twa, ane each.’</p> + +<p>The process was a slow one. Miss Janet and Miss Mackinnon stood +unflinchingly, braving the little wreaths of smoke which seemed to rise +out of all proportion to the performance, even daring the yellow tongues +of flame that darted across the paper, and threatened the bony fingers.</p> + +<p>Miss Bethia shook fitfully, disturbing the balance of the arrangement, +and shrank nervously from the burning, as if it had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13">{13}</a></span> been Archie Fenton +putting forth fiery fingers to execute vengeance upon her for her +contemptuous treatment of his will.</p> + +<p>The whole fantastic incident—witnessed under the solemn splendour of a +moorland sunset, which shone in through a western window; the three big, +gaunt, hard-featured old women, in more or less fixed theatrically +tragic attitudes, the right hand extended, grasping the sheet of paper; +Miss Janet’s dauntless, impassive face; Miss Mackinnon’s glittering, +restless eyes, lit up by an imprisoned spirit; Miss Bethia’s features +working with anxiety and dread; the shrivelling, blackening paper; the +jets of flame, the smoke—all bore a marvellous, grotesque resemblance +to the witches’ incantations of the Middle Ages. Fenton of Strathdivie’s +will might have been one of those bonds, written in letters of blood, +that sold souls to the foul fiend, and could no more be burnt in fire, +which was their natural element, than the devil could perish in his own +hell.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14">{14}</a></span></p> + +<p>Towards the close of the strange proceeding there was a slight creaking +of the door and rustling of something behind it, which caused Miss +Bethia to look round in fresh terror; but the trifling noise ceased +almost instantly. The charred fragments of the will dropped on the +floor, and were carefully collected by Miss Janet in the fire-shovel and +deposited in the empty grate. Another match was lit and applied to them, +and she was soon warranted in the triumphant announcement:</p> + +<p>‘There’s naethin’ left but white aiss [ashes], let Mair or wha like mak’ +what they can oot o’t. We’ve snapped our fingers at Fenton o’ +Strathdivie, in what was his ain hoose, too.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh! wheesht, Janet, wheesht!’ implored the appalled Miss Bethia.</p> + +<p>But Miss Janet did not heed her younger sister.</p> + +<p>‘We’re free to do what we like wi’ our ain,’ she proclaimed exultingly.</p> + +<p>Indeed, the Miss Mackinnons were not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15">{15}</a></span> disturbed in their harmonious +little arrangement, either on that night or before their departure next +morning.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mair, in his character of host, sat later over the funeral dinner +than was prudent, with regard to catching the train by which he could +reach that night the bosom of his family, in the market-town where he +practised as a solicitor. He left in such a hurry that he declined a +parting interview with Mrs. Todd, and contented himself with sending his +clerk to fetch the desk from the study, and take leave for him of the +Miss Mackinnons. Indeed, Mr. Mair had not been very favourably impressed +by the ladies. He considered rightly that he had done all in his power +for their comfort, and as a poor return, he had been forced to bear a +considerable amount of rudeness from Miss Janet. He was a long-suffering +man, but endurance has its limits.</p> + +<p>The ladies, on their part, had not thought of leaving Strathdivie the +very day after the funeral, but had rather meditated an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16">{16}</a></span> indefinite +stay—a sort of taking possession till their claims were settled, with +the deliberate investigation of that ‘stoucherie’ [collection of goods +in an old family house], all or part of which they had fondly hoped +would have fallen to their share. But the sisters were compelled to +understand that the place and everything it contained belonged to the +late owner’s New Zealand cousins, among whose property the women had no +excuse for prowling, however natural their regretful curiosity. At the +same time they had every reason to distrust any prolonged civilities +from Mrs. Todd, the housekeeper, who was again mistress of the +situation, having been appointed by the lawyer to continue in her former +place till the term should bring a new tenant to the old house.</p> + +<p>And Miss Janet, in spite of her supreme confidence in her own powers, +was a little doubtful what step to take next in the acquirement of the +money, the division of which she had already altered in a summary +fashion. It might be necessary for the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17">{17}</a></span> sisters again to have that +respectable family adjunct—a man of business; and if so, the sooner +they applied to him the better on all these counts. Miss Janet and Miss +Mackinnon filled Miss Bethia’s heart with thankfulness, by deciding to +quit Strathdivie the following forenoon.</p> + +<p>But another person was before the Miss Mackinnons. Mrs. Todd, in her new +mourning, accompanied by her canny lout of a husband, in his Sunday +suit, had slipped out of the house, leaving a deputy in charge, by break +of day. Ten minutes afterwards, the late Fenton of Strathdivie’s +confidential servant might have been seen at the little railway station, +starting on a journey by the early Parliamentary train.</p> + +<p>In the course of the day, Mr. Mair appeared again on the scene—not +coming quietly by train this time, but driving in hot haste across the +country, arriving at Strathdivie to find the birds flown, if he came in +search of the Miss Mackinnons, who had departed for Glasgow a quarter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18">{18}</a></span> +of an hour before. The lawyer was in an excited, disturbed frame of mind +when he heard that the ladies were gone. He turned the head of his +reeking horse without giving it either rest or refreshment, saying to +himself:</p> + +<p>‘There is nothing for it but an application to the fiscal; and I doubt +if I’ll come out clear in the business. I should not have been so +careless; but who would have thought the old beldames were capable of +such a trick? But, good Heavens! to think what will be the upshot, and +how the wretched old women will be served for their desperate deed!’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19">{19}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></h2> + +<p class="c">THE OFFICERS OF JUSTICE IN ST. MUNGO’S SQUARE—CLARIBEL DRYSDALE +STANDS BY HER COLOURS.</p> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">The Miss Mackinnons</span>, arriving at home towards the close of the day, +required more than the following night’s rest to restore them to their +normal condition. They felt as if they had gone on a long and perilous +expedition, and encountered many exciting adventures. The journey had +not been altogether fruitless, and there was at the end of it that happy +restoration to the grey old house in St. Mungo’s Square, which caused +Miss Bethia to cry out fondly, ‘Eh! hame is kindly,’ and Miss Janet to +sniff the thick air as if it were her own<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20">{20}</a></span> special property. She gloried +in the reek. Still, it could not be expected that the travellers would +at once master the shocks and fatigue of so unusual an experience. The +ladies were not in trim for visitors, which was unfortunate, since they +had for their share that day, not only the Lieutenant, who had started +from Oban on hearing the news of Fenton of Strathdivie’s death, but, of +all people in the world, Claribel Drysdale.</p> + +<p>Clary had come up to town from Lochgoilhead, unattended by any other +member of the family except young Tam, on his way to his office. She had +meant to do a little shopping, remain for the night in the house of +friends of the Drysdales, and sail back again next day. She had taken it +into her head, for some reasons known only to herself, to call, for the +first time in her life, on the Miss Mackinnons, knowing nothing of their +recent absence, or, for that matter, of Fenton of Strathdivie, and +believing Eneas Mackinnon to be still with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21">{21}</a></span> the Semples at Oban. Could +it be that Clary, so calm and cool and sufficient for herself in all +circumstances, had simply pined for her absent lover, who was not to be +thought of as a husband for her, and, yearning to have tidings of him, +had suddenly conceived the idea of calling on his old grand-aunts, the +indigent gentlewomen who were her father’s <i>protégées</i>?</p> + +<p>Anyhow, there was Claribel behaving herself very graciously, looking a +wonderful specimen of youth and beauty, in an expensively quiet and +suitable walking-dress; a hat with hardly any trimming, from Paris; +sober gloves and boots, also from Paris; a little exquisite embroidery +on the collar and cuffs of her gown. She formed a striking figure among +the others in the dull, dingy room, and won golden opinions from its +usual occupants. Yet one would have thought that Claribel, with her +natural and acquired elegance, was too well regulated a person in +everything, had too high and at the same time too conventional a +standard<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22">{22}</a></span> to meet the Miss Mackinnons’ views; that she would not be +smart or bouncing, or, on the other hand, deferential enough for those +her seniors. However, they were paying her homage not merely with +ulterior motives on their grand-nephew’s account, or because of some +regard for what her father, Tam Drysdale, had done for them first and +last. It was principally because this well-assured, courteous, composed +example of maidenhood—maidenhood among the upstart, wealthy, +influential ‘dirt’ of modern trade, that Miss Janet was wont to +despise—took the old lady by surprise—took away her breath in some +occult manner, and rendered her nearly subdued, and almost well-bred.</p> + +<p>There was Eneas, by far the most uncomfortable of the party, in some +degree consoled by what in its turn amazed him—that is to say, the +unexpectedly commonplace civility of his kinswomen.</p> + +<p>Neither could the Lieutenant altogether resist a throb of what he knew, +at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23">{23}</a></span> bottom of his heart, to be idiotic hope occasioned by Claribel’s +voluntary uninvited presence in St. Mungo’s Square—Claribel with her +innate refinement and dignity, sitting apparently happy, and at her +ease, among his queer, plain old aunts. Was it for his sake? Could it be +for his sake? Yet, if it were so, how could he—penniless, without the +most distant prospect of rising to any purpose in his +profession—propose to accept gratefully, and repay richly, such rare +generous devotion?</p> + +<p>A ring at the door-bell—not loud, but prolonged, as if delivered from +weighty considerations—startled the party, and Miss Bethia vanished to +perform the office of the servant who had never been replaced.</p> + +<p>‘Tradesmen are very forward and pushing for orders,’ remarked Miss +Janet. ‘Does not your mammaw find it so, Miss Drysdale?’</p> + +<p>‘Well, we’re rather out of the way of shop-boys in the country; and my +mother is so fond of marketing when she gets the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24">{24}</a></span> opportunity, that she +never complains,’ answered Clary, with a pleasant laugh.</p> + +<p>At that moment Miss Bethia looked in with a face grown pale, a dazed +look, and a paper in her hand.</p> + +<p>‘Will you come here and speak, Eneas?’</p> + +<p>She summoned him mysteriously. He rose slowly to grant her request.</p> + +<p>‘What is’t, Betheye? Speak out. What’s a’ the hullaballoo?’ demanded +Miss Janet, her imperious curiosity, together with her clear conscience, +getting the better of her late decorous politeness.</p> + +<p>Thus adjured, Miss Bethia did not know how to refuse replying. Besides, +she, too, was destitute of any serious apprehension, and regarded the +affair—which no doubt had given her a little fright, in spite of its +absurdity—as a foolish mistake.</p> + +<p>‘It’s twa shirra-officers, I think, come in a cab, sayin’ they have a +warrant for us.’</p> + +<p>‘A warrant!’ cried Eneas, horrified; ‘an arrest for debt, you mean? I +had no idea of this. Yes, I will speak to the men, of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25">{25}</a></span> course,’ he +continued, in some agitation. ‘But I must see you out first, Miss +Drysdale. This—this misfortune, of which I had no conception, is not a +thing for you to be mixed up with.’</p> + +<p>‘Don’t mind me, Mr. Mackinnon,’ said Clary, still mistress of herself, +though she looked startled. ‘I shall go in a minute, if you wish it; but +can I be of no use? My father is not in town, but my brother is at the +office. Could he do nothing?’</p> + +<p>‘Debt!’ shrieked Miss Janet, who had been struck dumb by the unfounded +accusation. ‘We do not owe a sillar saxpence. We never did, when we were +near starvation—ladies though we were: that you did not ken of, Eneas, +you that have evened us to debt!’</p> + +<p>‘I have no wish to intrude,’ the civil enough, but grave-sounding voice +of the constable spoke from the hall. The speaker followed the voice +with his person, punctiliously removing his hat as he entered the room, +but making good his entrance. ‘I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26">{26}</a></span> must come in to do my duty. I had +better explain this is not an arrest for debt; it is a warrant from the +fiscal to take the three auld leddies before a magistrate.’</p> + +<p>The outrage was so inconceivable that Miss Janet laughed aloud, while +Miss Bethia’s vague terror returned, and Miss Mackinnon appealed +helplessly:</p> + +<p>‘Wha is he? The drummer? But whaur’s his drum? Did we lose onything +yesterday, Janet—Betheye?’</p> + +<p>‘What on earth is the pretence for this extraordinary proceeding? There +must be some huge blunder,’ insisted Eneas. ‘These are my aunts—the +Miss Mackinnons—who have lived here for more than half a century. They +are well known in Glasgow—hundreds will speak to their respectability. +Good heavens! who has doubted it?’</p> + +<p>‘I have nothing to say against it, sir,’ answered the inflexible servant +of the law. ‘I presumed these were the Miss Mackinnons, and I have a +warrant to take them up.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27">{27}</a></span></p> + +<p>‘On what charge?’</p> + +<p>‘The charge I am ready to tell you. It is the wilful and malicious +burning of the will of the late Archibald Fenton of Strathdivie, at +Strathdivie, on the 11th of this month, by May Mackinnon, Janet +Mackinnon, and Elizabeth or Bethia Mackinnon. I have to caution the +prisoners against saying anything.’</p> + +<p>‘The thing is preposterous,’ protested the Lieutenant. ‘It is true my +aunts have just returned from Strathdivie, where they went for the +funeral of their relative, but you may as well accuse them of setting +fire to his house as of burning his will. What do you say, Aunt Janet?’ +asked Eneas almost cheerfully, his confidence re-established by the +incredibility of the charge.</p> + +<p>‘That we brunt it, sure enough, and what for no?’ demanded the undaunted +woman. ‘The wull had no concern with onybody save oursel’s, unless it +were a couple of servants. Archie Fenton had got out his spite at me and +Meye by making<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28">{28}</a></span> an eldest dochter—or, as some say, an eldest son—of +Betheye, who would not lend hersel’ to sic treachery, so we agreed among +oursel’s to turn the tables upon the man by burning the wull and +dividing the money fair. We’ll see that the servants have their legacy, +which is mair than ane of them deserves—an impident hizzie—but that’s +neither here nor there. Now what have you to say against it, Lieutenant? +There’s no fraud or wrang done; it was to prevent wrang; neither law nor +gospel can object to that. I cannot tell what the man means. I suppose +the writer body was angered at not getting a job. But I’ve explained,’ +ended Miss Janet, in perfect assurance that her explanation was +satisfactory.</p> + +<p>Miss Mackinnon and Miss Betheye were equally convinced. Miss Betheye was +again shaking off her alarm, and feeling some amount of complacency for +the part she had played in the matter.</p> + +<p>‘I would not have touched a farthing of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29">{29}</a></span> what should have been Meye’s +and Janet’s,’ she added her version of the story; ‘and as long as the +wull was there, they wouldna tak’ their ain from me, at my pleasure, and +me the youngest. There was nothing for it but to destroy the paper, +which had only to do with our business, and mak’ a new settlement.’</p> + +<p>As for Miss Mackinnon, she darted her hawk’s glance all around, and +actually chuckled.</p> + +<p>Eneas Mackinnon stood the picture of despair.</p> + +<p>‘How could you be so mad?’ he broke out, with passion that was strange +in the man. ‘I thought even old women had more sense.’</p> + +<p>Claribel Drysdale touched him on the arm, and drew him a little aside.</p> + +<p>‘Don’t you see, your aunts meant no harm,’ she whispered; ‘it was an +accident. Don’t undeceive them yet. It would be barbarous. I’ll go with +them to the magistrate.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30">{30}</a></span></p> + +<p>‘Impossible!’ he exclaimed. ‘What would your father think? You are an +angel of goodness, but—— ’</p> + +<p>‘No, no,’ she said, with a faint smile; ‘I am not very good. I am only +an idle girl up in town for a day, and I have nothing particular to do +when nearly all my friends are away.’</p> + +<p>‘But your father—— ’</p> + +<p>‘My father has the greatest respect for your aunts as worthy +representatives of one of the old Glasgow families. He would be glad +that I should do anything for them in an awkward dilemma.’</p> + +<p>‘I know I ought not to allow it,’ he began to hesitate; ‘it would be +very unpleasant for you; and where would be the use?’</p> + +<p>‘The magistrate may be an acquaintance of mine, or he may know my +name—my father has some influence. Go for my brother, and try what he +can do. You must not seek to prevent me from accompanying the Miss +Mackinnons, if the men<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31">{31}</a></span> will let me, and I think we can manage that. +There is no other woman to go with them, and they may break down when +they learn the truth.’</p> + +<p>Eneas stood and looked at Claribel like a man struck dumb and +fascinated. He had always guessed that she was wise and capable, but he +had never known what she could do when there was a call for the exercise +of her powers. He obeyed her—nay, Miss Janet obeyed her, after she had +cried out violently that the magistrate might come to her—she would not +stir a foot to go to him. Let them put a finger on her if they daured. +The Lieutenant would take care of that, though he had to send for his +swurd to strike a blow for his aunties, and for social order in their +persons.</p> + +<p>‘But we are all going, Miss Janet,’ said Claribel calmly. ‘All we ladies +are going. You will not refuse to accompany your sisters and me.’</p> + +<p>‘Weel, if you are proposin’ to mak’ a ploy o’t,’ yielded Miss Janet +doubtfully, ‘if you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32">{32}</a></span> want to tak’ a ride through the streets to see the +toon—only you can do that ony day from your mammaw’s carriage.’</p> + +<p>‘But I have not you or the other Miss Mackinnons to bear me company,’ +said Clary promptly.</p> + +<p>‘Nor Eneas here,’ said Miss Janet, falling into the trap. ‘There will be +room for him on the dickie.’</p> + +<p>‘No,’ said Claribel, with the same clear decision that was apt to carry +everything before it at home and abroad. ‘He is going for my brother, to +help to put an end to this little difficulty; but they will join us +immediately.’</p> + +<p>By sheer force of character, and by taking the lead—a proceeding +unlooked for and extraordinary where her age and sex were concerned, but +warrantable when there was no one else to stand in the breach—since the +man entitled to act was stupefied and sick to the bottom of his soul +with affront and dismay—Clary grasped the situation, controlled the +other actors in it, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33">{33}</a></span> did the best that could be done under the +circumstances. She gave Eneas a hint of what he was to try to do in +another brief aside.</p> + +<p>‘You know, Mr. Mackinnon’—she allowed him credit for knowledge which +had not yet come to him—‘your aunts must not be detained a moment +longer than can be helped. Somebody must find bail for them. Oh! it will +be very easy—my father, if he could be got in time, Dr. Peter +Murray—oh! dozens of people will be willing.’</p> + +<p>He departed instantly to fulfil her behests. He had not her quick, +practical brain, her unfaltering self-reliance, her moral courage; but +he had, at least, the merit of appreciating them when he found them. He +was ready to worship her, to make her his guiding star, to be twice the +man with her that he would have been without her.</p> + +<p>All Glasgow rang with the news when it was noised abroad that the Miss +Mackinnons, of St. Mungo’s Square, had been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34">{34}</a></span> taken before a magistrate +on a charge of felony. Some laughter, but far more horror and pity, were +called forth. As Claribel Drysdale had said, dozens of citizens were +willing to be bail for the unfortunate ladies. They were not detained +more than an hour, during which Miss Janet was so smoothed down and held +in check by Clary’s peculiar tact and firmness, that the chief offender +refrained from adding to her foolish vindication of her heinous +misdemeanour the fresh offence of gratuitously insulting the magistrate.</p> + +<p>The Miss Mackinnons were at home again without having incurred much +harm. The misfortune was that the business could not rest there. The +case, on the face of it, must be sent for trial. No exercise of interest +on the ladies’ behalf could prevent the necessity for them to take their +places where other offenders had stood before them, in the public court, +and run the risk of a sentence which, to old women, born and bred as +they had been, was all but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35">{35}</a></span> synonymous with death. Tam Drysdale was at +his wits’ end, and with many another kindly Glasgow man, full of Glasgow +spirit, was willing to spare neither time, trouble, nor expense to help +his townswomen in the strait into which their ignorance and rashness had +brought them. The best counsel would be got, every available witness +procured, and every extenuating circumstance receive a full hearing, as +if the old Virginian Mackinnon were still making Glasgow ‘trim’le’ at +the wag of his finger.</p> + +<p>Tam made no objection to Claribel’s remaining in town, and going often +to St. Mungo’s Square. He was proud to think that one of his daughters +had shown such presence of mind, and been able to prove her loyalty to +ladies in adversity. If it was any comfort to them for Clary to call on +them, to do what she could to cheer and counsel them, they were heartily +welcome to the comfort, so far as he and mother were concerned. Clary +was only a girl,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36">{36}</a></span> but the Miss Mackinnons might listen to less sensible +encouragement and advice, though he said it who, perhaps, should not say +it.</p> + +<p>For any delicate reason why Claribel ought not to be conspicuously mixed +up with the Mackinnons and their affairs, auld Tam could dismiss it +without another consideration. He was entirely of opinion that this +calamity to the whole Mackinnon family would knock on the head the +wildest pretensions of the ‘offisher lad’ to Clary’s favour. He could +never be so base—Tam had almost said—even if she would listen to him, +as to propose to connect himself with the Drysdales, after the fellow’s +aunts had rubbed shoulders with the hulks, and after what he—Tam +Drysdale—was striving to do to avert the catastrophe. The thing was +clean out of the question.</p> + +<p>Stout-hearted as Miss Janet was, the trial hanging over her, with the +restlessness of Miss Mackinnon, the lamentations of Miss Bethia, the +stern remonstrances<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37">{37}</a></span> and injunctions of the lawyers, broke her down, +comparatively. While she still stuck to the point that she and her +sisters had meant no ill and were morally entitled to pursue the course +they had adopted, she ceased to indulge in hectoring. Nay, on the great +day when she had to face judge, jury, and crowded court, she was brought +to the extreme length of not speaking till she was spoken to. And when +Miss Janet was tamed, all were tamed, though Miss Mackinnon struggled +painfully with her infirmity, and Miss Bethia looked well-nigh +distracted.</p> + +<p>Claribel Drysdale was present, but she did not sit near the old ladies. +That place was for their agitated, handsome nephew from the Barracks. +But it was she who had suggested to him to take it, and it was she who +had induced Lady Semple to come with Dick and express her sympathy with +her son’s friend. Moreover, Claribel admitted that she was in the Court +at once to maintain the spirits of her singular charge,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38">{38}</a></span> and to do what +she could to keep them in order.</p> + +<p>The judges were in their seats. The jury were sworn in. The Miss +Mackinnons had surrendered to their friends’ bail, and pled guilty; the +case was argued in earnest on both sides. It was no mere form or piece +of mockery for as simple and ridiculous a transgression as ever the law +laid hold of. On the one hand were ranged the insubordination of the +proceeding, the aggravation of its committal by persons of birth, +education, and mature years, its evil as a precedent. On the other hand +were marshalled the absence of criminal intent on the part of the +offenders, their stupid but honest ignorance of the law, their frank and +full admission of what they had done the moment the question was put to +them, with the crowning extenuation that they had not devised wrong to +any human being by their lawless act; they had merely agreed among +themselves to divide, as they judged, more fairly the money which had +come to them by right.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39">{39}</a></span> The law might say that this was a lame defence, +but what right-minded man could refuse to admit its cogency?</p> + +<p>All unseemly demonstrations of curiosity and amusement were put down +while the verdict was in suspense. As a matter of fact there could only +be one—that of guilty—to which indeed the Miss Mackinnons had pled. +The question was, what would be the relative mildness or severity of the +sentence the judge must deliver? The trespass against authority had been +as audacious as trespass could be; but in consideration of the freedom +from malice, and the sex and age of the trespassers, justice was +tempered with mercy.</p> + +<p>One month’s imprisonment, without hard labour, in Glasgow Gaol, was +awarded to the three Miss Mackinnons.</p> + +<p>‘My lord—— ’ said Miss Janet, recovering from her dumbness and +stumbling to her feet. But she was denied a last protest. She and her +sisters were surrounded and hurried out of Court.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40">{40}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX.</a><br><br> +<small>‘LOVE WILL VENTURE IN WHERE WISDOM AINCE HAS BEEN.’</small></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Clary</span> was the first to utter a modified congratulation. The result might +have been so much worse.</p> + +<p>‘Never mind, Miss Janet; a month will soon be over. Everybody knows you +meant no harm. It was all that horrid Fenton of Strathdivie, with his +ridiculous will. Your friends will come and see you on all the +visiting-days.’</p> + +<p>‘Lassie,’ said Miss Janet, for she had grown familiar with her young +ally, ‘do you think I would demean mysel’ to mak’ a moan, though we’ve +been waur tret than thieves and vagabonds—hiz that have paid<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41">{41}</a></span> our +taxes, the police-tax among them—every shillin’ to the Queen and +country, since the year that my father died? I was only going to tell +the judge that there had been word of our great-grandfather being sent +to the Tooer of London, for although he was not just out with Prince +Charlie, there was no doubt that the Mackinnon of that day waited on the +Prince at Shawfield House. It would better have become the Croon to give +his descendants lodgings in the Tooer, if so be we were to suffer +imprisonment for settin’ wrang richt, than to send us to the common +jile.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, Janet,’ Miss Bethia wailed, ‘think of the journey for Meye! They +may put irons on us in the jile, but they cannot bring us to the block +there.’</p> + +<p>‘The block!’ cried Miss Janet. ‘It would be the hangman’s wuddie +[gallows].’</p> + +<p>‘No, no,’ Clary interposed fearlessly. ‘Why do you frighten your sister, +Miss Janet, and slander the powers that be? You will only have to stay +in comfortable rooms<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42">{42}</a></span> where you can have books and work and anything you +wish, till you come out and return to your own house in St. Mungo’s +Square, in the course of four weeks.’</p> + +<p>When the Miss Mackinnons had tasted the penalties of modern captivity, +had survived the first shock, and found themselves not fatally injured +by it, they were heard to say that prisoners did not know what it was to +live. If they had learnt to deny themselves, and to fare as ladies and +gentlemen had often to fare, they would think little of +imprisonment—rather, they would count it, if they had done no wrong of +which they ought to repent and be ashamed, a very decent sort of refuge! +Certainly folk could not get out when they wanted, but then they did not +want to go out in rainy weather—and when did it not rain in the west? +There was never a loss without a compensation. As for anything else—bed +and board, fuel and light, the sufferers by the law’s severity were bold +to complain. It was the innocent people that had to keep<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43">{43}</a></span> up comfortable +gaols who were entitled to cry out, and perhaps it was but just that +some time or other they should reap the benefit of what they had long +contributed to maintain.</p> + +<p>Unquestionably the Miss Mackinnons, in the philosophic spirit at which +they had arrived, had all the alleviations which could be procured for +them in their peculiar circumstances. Among these were the constant +visits of Claribel Drysdale, who never missed a visiting-day. She had +taken the Miss Mackinnons regularly under her protection. How and why +she endured what was so antagonistic to her own taste, nobody could +tell. The fact remained that she did it. She knew, as Maggie Craig had +known before her, that the eccentric old ladies were come of the cream +of old Glasgow; that in reality, some of their objectionable qualities +were the growth of the arrogance and irreproachability of their ancient +social claims. But then Claribel Drysdale had cared nothing for any +cream<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44">{44}</a></span> of Glasgow, old or new; she had appeared to build her hopes and +ambitions on a different foundation. Was it that, having been drawn into +the use of her finer faculties, she enjoyed the exercise too keenly to +be willing to relinquish it, or to consent to forego its reward? Was it +that the rage of conquest came over her, conquest of elements the most +opposed to those in her own character, conquest of herself as well as of +others; a proud determination to show that she was equal to any +difficulty, and mistress of it before she had done? Was it simply that +deep down in Claribel Drysdale’s calm, strong, well-balanced nature, +there was a fountain of self-devotion, and one had unlocked the spring? +He possessed other and more evident attractions for her; but was the +most potent attraction of all really what was helpless and hopeless in +him, which, in place of provoking and repelling her, appealed +irresistibly to her strength of purpose, her instinct of ruling, and +talent for making the best of things?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45">{45}</a></span></p> + +<p>Among Clary’s tastes had not been the rustic one of early rising, which +had been found in her sister Eppie. Yet Claribel was, at this time, +repeatedly the first at the breakfast-table at Drysdale Hall, which, as +in all similar establishments, was regulated with a view to the men of +the house setting off for business before the idler world was stirring. +Clary would make the most unfaltering request for the use of the +carriage at an unheard-of hour in the morning. Neither did she make the +smallest concealment of her object. She was going to drive in to +Glasgow, to the City prison, to see the Miss Mackinnons. She wished to +be there as soon as the gates were opened.</p> + +<p>Eppie junior marvelled; young Tam stared; Eppie senior looked troubled, +but shrank from interfering. Auld Tam was blind. He even glanced up from +his ham and egg to express his approbation.</p> + +<p>‘It’s very gude of you, Clary, to think of the auld leddies in the +trouble, in which there is no disgrace—none to forbid your<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46">{46}</a></span> going among +them, even without your mither, at this hour. Still, it is very mindful +and pretty of you, my dear.’</p> + +<p>‘Not at all,’ said Claribel, turning her handsome face, unmoved in its +clear paleness, on her father; ‘I go to please myself. I have taken the +Miss Mackinnons under my care. They are my old ladies now.’</p> + +<p>Plenty of people were remarking significantly on Miss Drysdale’s +extraordinary attentions to three old, unattractive women, the victims +of their idiotic conceit and silliness. Mrs. Drysdale well knew this, +though she could not bring herself to transfer the knowledge to a +quarter from which it might be energetically acted upon. Ill-natured +tongues even went so far as to say that Lady Semple was enough a woman +of the world to keep herself out of the entanglement. She had shown a +little kindliness on her own account to the Miss Mackinnons because they +had really become objects of pity, and her son had been in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47">{47}</a></span> the same +regiment and on intimate terms with young Mackinnon. But she had taken +care never to accompany Claribel Drysdale to the gaol—Claribel +Drysdale, who had been so particular and had not thought any man in +Glasgow fit for her! She must have been engaged beforehand to the +nephew—a penniless officer. Why had auld Tam Drysdale permitted it? Why +did he not interfere now and put a stop to the engagement, when it was +almost certain that Mr. Mackinnon must leave the army, and no longer +retain his claim to as much as a subaltern’s rank and a starvation +income? A fine end to Claribel Drysdale’s proud pretensions!</p> + +<p>But auld Tam was possessed by another idea, and saw nothing of what was +passing before his very eyes.</p> + +<p>The last time Clary drove, before women like her were to be seen abroad, +to that strange destination for a girl in the upper classes, and waited +in the carriage till the time to enter, she caught a glimpse of Eneas<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48">{48}</a></span> +Mackinnon, with a similar intention, standing where he could best escape +observation. Even from the little she could see of him, she could judge +that he looked ill and dejected. The next moment she alighted and walked +towards him, coming up behind him and making him turn, startled by the +quiet mention of his name—‘Mr. Mackinnon.’</p> + +<p>He shook hands with her in silence, colouring highly as he did so.</p> + +<p>‘Why don’t you say “well met”?’ she rallied him.</p> + +<p>‘Well met here!’ he exclaimed with more desperate sadness than +bitterness, for he was hardly ever a bitter man.</p> + +<p>‘Yes; why not here, when it is for the last time? Your aunts will be +free in three days.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, I suppose for their sakes I ought to rejoice,’ he said with an +effort; ‘as I should thank you for your great kindness to them.’</p> + +<p>‘No, indeed; no thanks. I told my father<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49">{49}</a></span> that already this morning. I +come to please myself. I have taken the old ladies under my wing.’</p> + +<p>He looked at her wistfully, but when he spoke again he had dropped her +out of the conversation.</p> + +<p>‘I ought not to grudge them their release, poor old souls,’ he said +slowly. ‘They brought me up, and have always cared for me a hundred +times more than I deserve, and I have not been able to do anything for +them. I know now, though I was a dolt at the time, that when my aunt +Bethia had fever, the whole family might have died of starvation, but +for the help which your father and Dr. Murray gave them. I may well +forgive the most egregious of their blunders—of course they did not +know the mischief they were doing to themselves or any other person. But +they have put the finishing-touch to my disadvantages—to the gross +mistake which stranded me in the army—not that I have any reason to +suppose I could have done<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50">{50}</a></span> much good in any other profession. I had +better walk into the Clyde at once, and save myself and my friends +further trouble which will be ill repaid.’</p> + +<p>‘You—a soldier!’ she said, in her low distinct voice.</p> + +<p>‘I shall not be a soldier much longer,’ he declared. ‘Why should I bring +a slur upon the service to which I have been a small gain at the best, +by continuing in it after the pass to which my people have brought +themselves and me?’ and he looked up at the prison walls. ‘This is a +little incident in my family history which will not be forgotten.’</p> + +<p>‘Don’t seek that it should be forgotten—a foolish, I grant you very +foolish, but perfectly guileless mistake of three old ladies—why, it +was a thing innocent children might have done. I wish your brother +officers may have nothing worse to reveal in the histories of their +families,’ she said fearlessly.</p> + +<p>‘You are too good,’ he told her again.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51">{51}</a></span> ‘But the very absurdity of the +affair will perpetuate its memory. I do not wish to blame anybody, I do +not wish to crave pity from you; but it is the last straw which breaks +the camel’s back.’</p> + +<p>‘Then the camel should get somebody else to help to bear it.’</p> + +<p>‘Who would?’ he asked quickly. ‘I have nothing to offer in return but +the miserable pittance of a lieutenant in a marching regiment, which I +can only make pay my own expenses by scraping and saving. Miss Drysdale, +you can’t tell what a manager I am,’ he said, with a little bitterness +this time; ‘how I save up my stores and make my old clothes do double +duty, like an old woman. What would the rich young Glasgow fellows think +if they saw behind the scenes? They have a tolerably accurate knowledge, +indeed, that I am impecunious, but wouldn’t they laugh awfully at my +dodges?’</p> + +<p>‘The rich young Glasgow fellows,’ she said, with scorn, ‘would half +empty their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52">{52}</a></span> purses to be like you in some respects, and they would do +well to make the little sacrifice. But I know more of the rich young +Glasgow girls. I suppose you would say we were very extravagant; at +least, so Lady Semple tells me. We would give more for a lace flounce, +or a fur trimming, than would keep a poor, respectable middle-class +family for a year. And it is not all in bad taste, some of us dress +tolerably well—confess it, Mr. Mackinnon,’ she demanded—gaily for +Clary, who was generally too dignified to be gay.</p> + +<p>‘Your dress, like everything else about you, is perfection; and that’s +what drives poor devils to destruction,’ he muttered, half-piqued, +half-puzzled.</p> + +<p>‘I have always liked to dress well, and to dress in a way that becomes a +rich man’s daughter; but do you suppose I should care to do it if—if I +were a poor man’s wife? Don’t you see it would no longer be in keeping? +It is not so much the dress as the sense of fitness I mind.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53">{53}</a></span></p> + +<p>‘But you would not be in your right place as a poor man’s wife,’ he said +in agitation; ‘no penniless wretch of a subaltern would presume.’</p> + +<p>‘We were not talking of subalterns,’ she said demurely; ‘and as for +presumption, could it be presumption if the person most concerned did +not think so?’</p> + +<p>‘Claribel!’ he said.</p> + +<p>‘Eneas!’ she answered.</p> + +<p>‘It would be dishonourable in me to take advantage of your generosity.’ +He struggled to act up to his conception of the character of a +gentleman. ‘I can hardly keep myself—we should have to be dependent on +your father. He would never consent. I have felt before now that he +desired to hold me at arm’s length—that you might have nothing to say +to me, though lately he has not thought it worth his while to use such +precautions. He has been a good friend to my poor old aunts in their +trouble; but I have sunk fathoms in his estimation, socially.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54">{54}</a></span></p> + +<p>She listened without contradicting him; indeed, she admitted candidly:</p> + +<p>‘I don’t say you are wrong. My father has a greater respect for the old +than for the young Mackinnons. He does not think you are a match for a +Drysdale.’ It was plain speaking, and he winced. She went on—‘But when +I marry, it will be I who marry, and not my father. No one knows that +better than he, and he is good and kind, as well as clever and +successful. He is respected for more than his wealth and social +position. I am sure he could not be utterly inconsistent if he tried.’</p> + +<p>‘I have no doubt your father is all you say,’ said the Lieutenant, but +in anything rather than an assured tone.</p> + +<p>‘He’s not a small tyrant,’ insisted Claribel. ‘He is neither unfair nor +cruel. He may disapprove, but he will not long dispute my right of +choice, or refuse me a daughter’s portion, when he is convinced that I +am in earnest.’</p> + +<p>‘I trust you are right,’ he said nervously;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55">{55}</a></span> ‘but it seems too +splendidly good news to be true; I cannot believe it. I fear I must be +taking a mean advantage of your—— ’</p> + +<p>‘Simplicity,’ she finished his sentence for him with a laugh. ‘No, don’t +treat me as a simpleton, and please don’t distress yourself on my +account, as if I had become your prey—for it is really too good of you. +I have always known what I was about—always seen and taken what suited +me best; and if I find, on mature consideration, that you suit me—why +need you object? You don’t really, else I should not have said what I +have—I should not be here at all, I dare say.’</p> + +<p>‘Object!’ he exclaimed, in a tone which carried conviction with it.</p> + +<p>‘There is one advantage of being come of the people,’ she proceeded +calmly. ‘Have you never observed how much the rich Glasgow girls manage +their own lives and settle their fortunes? I am not a great admirer of +the causes which have led to such a result, but I have always claimed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56">{56}</a></span> +my independence, and prized it, and my father would be the last to seek +to deprive me of it.’</p> + +<p>‘I hope you are right,’ he said emphatically.</p> + +<p>‘I am right,’ she told him; ‘neither my father nor my mother are, even +in theory, aristocratic parents. They would never dream of coercing +their children—at least, not their daughters. I am not certain whether +my father might not have been tempted to use indirect influence where my +brother was concerned, to get him to enter the business, my father’s +heart was so set upon it. But that is quite another thing from +interfering with his daughters in what is their affair. If my father is +not altogether willing, I don’t think your aunts will find fault,’ she +said, with a womanly archness that was both wonderful and charming in +Clary.</p> + +<p>‘No, indeed; but how shall I ever thank you?’</p> + +<p>‘By believing and trusting me. Do<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57">{57}</a></span>n’t you see that will be your duty and +privilege henceforth?’</p> + +<p>Thus, in the raw morning, in that doleful place, where miserable men and +women were wont to meet and part, two hearts went together and sang +their song of joy, as if they had been in Eden. At the gate of Glasgow +Gaol, Claribel Drysdale, the proudest girl in Glasgow, plighted her +troth and resigned her liberty—if that could be called resigning, which +was in fact taking Eneas Mackinnon under her protection, and determining +to make the most of him, as of herself, in all time to come.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58">{58}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX.</a><br><br> +<small>A HORRIBLE SUSPICION ASSAILS AULD TAM.</small></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">What</span> was auld Tam about, that he could permit his eldest daughter, his +‘edicate, handsome, tochered lass,’ to throw herself away on a cool +beggar of a penniless soldier—a man without the brains to keep his old +relations from a deed which had landed them in Glasgow Gaol, and +awakened the mingled laughter and pity of the whole city, the whole +country? The very monstrousness of such a conjecture, the very audacity +of Eneas Mackinnon’s continuing to have hopes and claims, served to put +Tam off his guard. He never dreamt that any precautions were necessary +after the Miss Mackinnons had done for themselves and their grand-nephew +effectually.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59">{59}</a></span></p> + +<p>There was more than magnanimity and good feeling in Tam’s exertions on +the old ladies’ behalf—there was a certain serious conviction that in +making them, all danger from that quarter was over. And auld Tam would +have been right if he had not left Clary out of his calculations—if he +had not failed to make allowance for a tenacity of purpose and power of +getting her own way by bending everything and everybody, including the +chief obstacles to her will, and the very persons who ought to have had +the deciding vote, to do her bidding.</p> + +<p>With Clary to overrule circumstances and constrain Eneas Mackinnon to +follow her lead, Tam ought never to have been sure of what might or +might not happen. But in addition to his false security in the +persuasion that the ‘offisher lad’ would not have the face any longer to +look at Clary, and that the girl herself had listened to reason and was +actuated by motives of mere philanthropy, Tam Drysdale’s attention was +suddenly violently distracted and held<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60">{60}</a></span> fast in another direction. A +crowd of interests of greater importance—nay, of vital moment—pressed +upon him, till the question of Clary and her settlement in life dwindled +into a drop in the bucket, a speck on the horizon.</p> + +<p>On the very day that Claribel’s future was settled at the gaol-door, her +father had gone to the office of a solicitor named Greig, who had been +employed in the Miss Mackinnons’ case, whose bill auld Tam had taken it +upon him to discharge. The bill was not longer than he had expected, and +he was not the man to grudge it, so that he was in a placid enough frame +of mind. Having come a little distance, he felt inclined to tarry a +moment and talk at his ease, particularly as the owner of the office was +an exceptionally pleasant old gentleman, possessed of a good deal of +curious professional information, beyond what was of a private and +confidential nature, which he had no objection to air for the benefit of +his clients.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61">{61}</a></span></p> + +<p>‘As I told you, Mr. Drysdale,’ said Mr. Greig—a stout, bald-headed man +who sat facing his visitor, slightly flourishing a pencil and laying +down the law, which was in a manner his own property—‘the ladies may be +thankful they got off as they did. It is an old story, the contract +which gave them a claim on Strathdivie. I’m not quite clear that Fenton +might not have disputed it; you see, there was a certain power vested in +the Fentons, which was in itself something of a flaw. But marriage +contracts are, like the marriages they represent, not things to parry +with. They are about as bad as trusteeships; and I consider that it must +be a most extraordinary will which gives more trouble and brings more +grist to the lawyer’s mill, than these two other devices of the enemy.’</p> + +<p>‘Do you say so, sir?’ answered Tam, who did not at the moment care much +about the statement, but who had a shrewd, intelligent man’s general +desire to receive trustworthy information on any subject, not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62">{62}</a></span> to say on +one which cropped up periodically in most family histories. ‘I had no +marriage contract, for the very good reason that I had little enough to +settle on my wife when I got her. But after a man has made some money, +and has dochters belonging to him, it may be as well for him to ken what +is necessary on the subject. Now that I come to think of it, I have a +marriage settlement which came accidentally into my possession not very +long syne.’ Some feeling of delicacy and not of craftiness prevented +auld Tam from saying whose marriage settlement it was. He only added, +after an instant, while the lawyer listened as if he were on the alert +for what might concern himself, ‘I had almost forgotten the existence of +the paper, in place of putting it into the hands of the person who has +most richt to it.’</p> + +<p>‘Then this is a most fortuitous conversation,’ said Mr. Greig briskly. +‘Take my advice, sir, and do not let the grass grow on your forwarding +the deed to its proper<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63">{63}</a></span> destination. You are not aware what weighty +issues may hang on its contents.’</p> + +<p>‘Houts, Mr. Greig!’ exclaimed Tam, a little impatiently. ‘It has not to +do with any living creature. Both of the contracting parties are dead, +after having cleverly disposed of what they contracted for, mair than +twenty years syne.’</p> + +<p>‘That does not matter a brass farthing,’ insisted Mr. Greig, as if he +enjoyed the irrelevancy of the protest, and the superiority of marriage +contracts to such trifles as death and the making away with worldly +goods. ‘Marriage contracts have to do with generations unborn, whom they +fetter beforehand. They are no joke, Mr. Drysdale. Why, the very +settlement that led indirectly to the act of which the Miss Mackinnons +were guilty, might have opened your eyes alike to the security and the +danger of marriage contracts.’</p> + +<p>Tam was startled; but he failed as yet to see what might be the full +significance of the communication to him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64">{64}</a></span></p> + +<p>‘I understand about a charge like that on the estate of Strathdivie,’ he +said deliberately; ‘but you do not mean to say that a dead man, by the +stroke of a pen, could control sale and purchase, and hinder the +business of the world where his bairns’ bairns, or heirs farther off +still, were in question? Let us suppose a case,’ he continued, warming +to the dispute, and feeling a thrill, as it were, of premonition pass +through him when he gave with double consciousness his imaginary +example. ‘A bargain has been made without heed to an existing marriage +contract, maybe without the knowledge of sic a trap, though, according +to your tale, it is binding on both the bargainers; do you mean to tell +me that the paction will be broken and some innocent man condemned to +loss, because he had the misfortune to be ignorant of what was out of +his way? What justice would there be in that?’</p> + +<p>‘I’m not prepared to say about the justice,’ said Mr. Greig cautiously. +‘There<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65">{65}</a></span> may be two sides to the question, and a good deal of argument on +either side. But I can speak for the law—<i>that</i> goes as far as you +say.’</p> + +<p>‘Then I take leave to say I’ll have a poorer opinion of the law from +this day,’ said Tam stiffly. ‘I was wont to think that law and justice +in this country were as nearly ane as human frailty would alloo; but, if +I’m to trust a legal authority, I’ve been in error.’</p> + +<p>‘I beg your pardon, my dear sir; there are limits to marriage +contracts,’ said Mr. Greig, stroking his own bald head softly. He did +not wish to offend an influential client, neither did he like—to his +credit—to wound an honest man.</p> + +<p>‘I should hope so,’ said Tam sharply.</p> + +<p>‘We have been speaking vaguely,’ went on the other, with increasing +suavity; ‘we have been implying, for one thing, that there are +descendants to profit by the contract, which, by-the-bye, is registered +and placed where all men may read it, if they will.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66">{66}</a></span></p> + +<p>‘Humph!’ said Tam, ‘and what if they are not readers of sic documents? +What if they never heard tell of sic a privilege or +needcessity—whichever you may like to call it.’</p> + +<p>Mr. Greig began again to smooth down the crown of his head tenderly, as +if it had been the man he was addressing.</p> + +<p>‘You’ve had enough to do with heritable property, Mr. Drysdale, to be +well acquainted with the nature of title-deeds. You know that every +prudent man—I may say, every man in his sober senses—will desire to +see such deeds before he invests in the lands or the houses that the +papers represent. Well then, marriage contracts are not so far out of +the category. A purchaser who has any reason to suppose there may have +been such a contract, or indeed without supposing at all, for the +greater assurance of himself and his family, is bound to apply for a +warrant, called “a search,” to satisfy himself that there is no prior +obligation to interfere with his future rights.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67">{67}</a></span></p> + +<p>‘That is to say,’ said Tam, with a fine flavour of irony, ‘he should +prepare for falling among thieves.’</p> + +<p>‘He might do worse,’ said the lawyer, with a laugh, declining to make a +personal application of the remark. ‘I am aware that the precaution is +often neglected among acquaintances and friends, but it ought not to be. +You know the Spanish proverb, about not trusting your own father to +count money.’</p> + +<p>‘It is a blackguard saying!’ cried Tam indignantly.</p> + +<p>‘I am afraid it is,’ admitted Mr. Greig candidly. ‘But apart from that, +there may be ignorance, as you said, on both sides, in selling without +the liberty to sell, as well as in buying without the power to buy. +Surely, without any prejudice, it is a duty to guard against the +possibility of such mutually ruinous ignorance, though there are other +laws that offer some compensation to the unwary.’</p> + +<p>‘I cannot stop to hear them; and I am<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68">{68}</a></span> free to own that what I have +heard does not recommend itself to me. But marriage contracts are not +things that I have ony troke with as yet,’ he added with sudden decision +while he rose, ‘even if I had not got enough of law for one day—if you +will forgive me for saying so, Mr. Greig,’ ended Tam, recovering his +natural courtesy.</p> + +<p>Mr. Greig balanced his pencil between his fingers after Tam had left +him, and pondered a moment.</p> + +<p>‘I thought auld Tam Drysdale had been less stupid and better informed,’ +he ruminated, with a shade of professional narrowness. ‘He is more +intolerant and less reasonable than I had pictured him. I dare say his +success is wasting him and making a bully of him—I have often seen the +process—or he may have been bitten in some of his purchases; they say +he is adding field to field, and buying in all the small crofts about +Drysdale Haugh. These prosperous men hate to be beaten in the value of a +halfpenny. Anyway, he will not grant<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69">{69}</a></span> even to himself that he has come +off the loser by the business. He’s a dour dog, auld Tam, but he’s not +the worst sort. I was a fool to stroke him the wrong way; however, he’s +not the kind that bears malice.’</p> + +<p>The lawyer—lawyer though he was—failed to connect the momentary heat +which Tam had shown, with his voluntary announcement, at the beginning +of the conversation, that he had come into the possession of a marriage +contract which was none of his. Nor, for that matter, did Tam in so many +words acknowledge to himself that there was any link between the two +facts, unless by the vehemence with which he kept repeating, as he drove +out the same afternoon to Drysdale Hall, that he had nothing to do with +such riddles, such provisions made, and snares laid for the +unsuspecting.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gavin Mackinnon, Miss Craig that was, had given her husband the +power of selling Drysdale Haugh and the dyeworks to Tam Drysdale. Why +should she have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70">{70}</a></span> been at the trouble and expense of granting the man +such power, if it was not hers to grant, if in professing to do so she +defrauded generations unborn—generations descended from her and Guy +Mackinnon? Would she not take care that everything was plain when it was +so much her own interest to be careful? He, Tam Drysdale, had bought the +place in good faith, with honest money, hardly won, and the farm and the +works had belonged to his father’s kinsman—to a Drysdale, long before +the name of Mackinnon had been heard on the Aytoun Water. Who would be +mad enough to dispute Tam’s purchase? What law was there in the universe +that could dare to call itself law, and at the same time question his +title to Drysdale Haugh?</p> + +<p>But was there any mention of heirs in that ill-preserved, ill-gotten +contract between Eneas Mackinnon and Margaret Craig which had reached +him—Tam Drysdale—by a strange mischance, if not by a projected fraud?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71">{71}</a></span></p> + +<p>He could not for the life of him answer the question, at which he kept +quarrying afresh during every mile of the road between Glasgow and +Drysdale Hall. Was there no mention of children in the contract, as +there certainly was not in that will of old Drysdale’s, for which Tam +had proposed to barter the other? or was there no such coincidence, +which would in itself, perhaps, have been singular? Had he merely +overlooked the clause because the paper had struck him as worse than +useless, a record of disappointed hopes and lost opportunities?</p> + +<p>All the time that Tam was scouting the apprehension as unreasonable and +impracticable, and telling himself what a fool he was to suffer even a +momentary scare from the long-winded sentences and long-nebbed words of +a book-man—a lawyer—he harassed himself with a fruitless effort to +satisfy this doubt. ‘Whitebreeks’ went through his paces uselessly, +where his <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72">{72}</a></span>master was concerned. For once the school-children, lingering +for him at Birlie Brae, looked wistfully in his face, and meeting no +responsive glance, shrank from hanging on to the dogcart, and fell back +discomfited, deprived of the ride which he himself had described as so +sweet a pleasure to juvenile trespassers. Auld Tam neither saw their +wonder and disappointment, nor did he observe beast or bird, field or +hedgerow, on his homeward way through the stubble-fields, and between +the hedges growing red with hips and haws. He was in a brown study—most +unusual with him—the whole road.</p> + +<p>Thompson, the groom, glancing askance at his master, gave his own head +ever so slight a shake—either auld Tam was on the verge of a fit of +apoplexy, or, as the idea of any other loss of power in that quarter was +unfamiliar to the servant, he judged his master must have made another +leap to the heights of fortune, which would land him among dukes and +earls, and take him away from driving in a dogcart to and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73">{73}</a></span> from a city +office. But would he ever be so happy again in the highest places, as +when Thompson drove him behind ‘Whitebreeks’ as regular as the clock, +going over the ground—every inch of which he knew—in a given time, +neither too fast nor too slow, but just what was fit for a gentleman of +auld Tam’s years and substance, with the progress made between his grand +house and his place of business, where he had risen from being a working +man and earned all his money? Thompson made the reflection on his own +account sentimentally.</p> + +<p>The spell was not broken by the appearance of the two Eppies, ready to +meet and greet the husband and father. Yet neither did their presence, +nor the sight of Drysdale Hall, in what its master had fondly regarded +as its perfection, inflict a pang, as they might have done, or might +come to do. He only saw them as in a dream. The most active trouble he +was sensible of assailed him when his eye fell upon young Tam, whose +hours were not the same as his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74">{74}</a></span> father’s, and who generally returned by +the railway, which had a station near the bleachfield. His father had +been so eager to embark young Tam with him in the business in which he +was now a partner, with a share in its liabilities as well as its +profits, that the elder man had forgotten the responsibilities which he +laid upon his son.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam put a force upon himself—he had early learnt self-mastery—he +met the advances of his family, he went and dressed for dinner, and sat +at the foot of his table in the ordinary fashion. But the impulse was +strong upon him to dispense with the usual arrangements and burdensome +formalities, including the eating of the principal meal of the day, set +all aside, retire to his business-room, and there investigate the terror +that—pretend to himself as he might—was chilling his blood and tugging +every moment harder at his heart-strings.</p> + +<p>Only love, watching auld Tam with Argus-eyes, detected that his appetite +and his con<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75">{75}</a></span>versation were the result of a hard struggle. It was the +elder Eppie who made the discovery, which astonished and even frightened +her a little. But tender affection has its sure intuitions and is equal +to most situations; besides, both of the Eppies had a fine good sense of +their own. Mrs. Drysdale would not call attention to a mood of body and +mind which it was clear her husband sought to keep to himself, by +assailing him with observations and inquiries. She behaved with true +delicacy—not even approaching him on the plea of ministering to his +wants. She kept back young Eppie with her smaller experience, taking her +aside and telling her simply father had ‘a sore head,’ and would prefer +to be undisturbed; she might give him a song by-and-by, if he came into +the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Supposing it was his heart and not his head which ailed auld Tam, Eppie, +in the middle of her abounding sympathy, was willing to wait her +husband’s time to communicate his cares.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76">{76}</a></span></p> + +<p>At last auld Tam could retreat to his den—his innocent stage for +playing at being a laird and a J.P., where he had not even been cumbered +by business routine. He closed the door, bolted it for the first time in +his life, looked round on the engravings of reaping machines, +Brobdignagian turnips and fat cattle, felt the discrepancy between the +past and the present, and said grimly to himself, ‘I micht be going to +commit a murder,’ and then went straight to his desk, unlocked it, and +turned to the compartment in which he had put the two papers, till he +could see Lieutenant Mackinnon about them. Succeeding events, +conspicuous among them the danger in which the Miss Mackinnons had +stood, had occupied him and prevented him from carrying out his +intention. In fact, he had been hindered from thinking, with any +distinct purpose, till that day of Sandy Macnab’s call with Rory o’ the +Shelties, and of the deed and the contract which auld Tam had taken into +his own hands, under the impression that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77">{77}</a></span> the papers were safer with him +than with a crazy Highland beggar. Certainly, when Tam had paid for +them, it had been more from a movement of half-reluctant compassion for +a miserable fatuous wretch who had deluded and overreached himself, than +as offering a price for documents, one of which had no interest, and the +other only a sentimental attraction, for him.</p> + +<p>There were the two old battered but still perfectly legible papers, with +the more modern slip appended by some officious pedantic Highland +minister or schoolmaster, as Tam had left them, safe enough in truth. He +began to wish he had never seen the deeds, that they had been +relinquished to the tender mercies of a madman. If Sandy Macnab had not +been so forward—if Rory had not been so greedy, and cunning, and weak +of wit—if that strange minister or schoolmaster had not been so +punctilious, the papers might have lain still where the careless, +swaggering sinner Guy Mackinnon had left them, and plagued nobody.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78">{78}</a></span></p> + +<p>But since they were here in his desk, by a queer coincidence, they must +be dealt with.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam sat down and proceeded to meet his fate. Yet, brave man as he +was, he continued to dally with it, to tell himself he was grossly +exaggerating the importance of the contents of one of these papers. +Since Mrs. Mackinnon had given her husband the power to sell Drysdale +Hall, such a power must have existed; neither he nor she could have been +such an idiot as to take the power for granted, be guilty of an unlawful +act, and commit a wrong against their children, born or unborn.</p> + +<p>As it happened, the will which Tam Drysdale had looked at last, the only +time he had gone over the deeds, was lying on the top of the contract. +He took it up and began to read it through, word for word, as if it had +been that with which he had to do—as if it were likely to contain some +information which might throw light on the uncertainty with regard to +the pro<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79">{79}</a></span>visions of the other—an uncertainty which one glance at the +proper place would determine for ever.</p> + +<p>But old Drysdale’s will disinheriting auld Tam’s father had nothing more +to say to his son than it had said before, even though he methodically +reckoned up the period between the dates of the deaths of the uncle in +Scotland and the adopted niece in India—which had made all the +difference in the world in the succession, and enabled Maggie Craig to +step into her mother’s shoes and keep out the Drysdale cousin.</p> + +<p>With one hard-drawn breath, auld Tam put down the will and took up the +marriage contract, reading it as he had read the other, line by line and +sentence by sentence, through a few of the ancient barbarous words and a +dozen of the labyrinthian repetitions in which the law delights. At last +he came to the technical phrases, standing out on the page as if to +strike him a blow, written as if in letters of fire to burn into his +brain the disastrous intimation which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80">{80}</a></span> they contained. Yes, the children +born of the marriage of Gavin Mackinnon and Margaret Craig, their heirs, +male and female, were deliberately set forth, mentioned, and +re-mentioned, as if they were the very persons for whom the contract had +been made, in whose protection it still unfolded its yellow parchment +wings, and commanded all infringers of its obligations to renounce their +unwarrantable assumptions and disgorge their dishonest gains.</p> + +<p>It became clear as day to Tam Drysdale, in less than a moment, that +neither Gavin Mackinnon nor his wife had held the right to sell Drysdale +Haugh, which was reserved for the children that might be born to them. +It was also plain enough to a man who had known something of the +couple—how it had happened—that there was nothing wonderful in it +unless the recklessness and folly of all concerned—himself included. +Mr. and Mrs. Mackinnon had been the very pair likely to get sick of the +unsuccessful struggle with the bleachfields and printing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81">{81}</a></span>works, to be +ready to shift them on other shoulders—first, on their partner’s, Mr. +Murray’s, and then on Tam’s. The husband and wife had been just the +people who would naturally snatch at the opportunity of getting rid of +the whole concern, and of having a sum of ready money substituted for an +unremunerative farm and a distasteful business. They would not stay to +investigate the power to work their will, they would take it for +granted. The two men who might have called the full-grown children to +account, the lawyers who had framed the settlement for preventing such a +disposal of the inheritance, with the trustees, were either out of the +way, or dead. The contract itself was not forthcoming. Lieutenant Eneas, +if a baby’s feeble voice could have been heard protesting against the +injury inflicted on his prospects, was not born. It might have been that +the future parents had given up the expectation of having children, and +when the unlooked-for event was foreshadowed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82">{82}</a></span> had decided between +themselves that what was done could not be undone, and that the child +would experience no great loss in the withdrawal from its keeping of a +succession which had prospered so ill with his father and mother.</p> + +<p>All had favoured the fatal blundering. Auld Tam was not free from blame. +A dim recollection came back upon him which sickened him, as with a +throe of remorse and rage, at his own infatuation. Somebody, he could no +longer tell whom—some cautious old friend or sharp-sighted +associate—had spoken to him of the possible existence of prior +contracts, apart from the title-deeds, and advised a reference to them. +And he had thought the friend timid, and the associate picking a hole in +Tam’s coat. For he, too, had been eager and set on his purchase. He had +derided the idea of any obstacle. He had insisted that he knew all about +Drysdale Haugh and the Mackinnons, and that in the face of such intimate +acquaintance further trouble and expense<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83">{83}</a></span> were uncalled for. His +penny-saving thrift, on which he had prided himself all his life, had +come in and forbidden him to expend a few pounds in order to prevent the +risk of thousands, the danger of a life’s efforts and ambitions being +frustrated at the eleventh hour.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84">{84}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI.</a><br><br> +<small>THE SUSPICION BECOMES A CERTAINTY.</small></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Auld Tam</span> had not the right to a single one of the advantages on which he +had prided himself. Nothing was his—neither lands nor works, neither +old farmhouse nor modern mansion, nor office in Glasgow—at least, if +any portion of what he had called his remained to him, the claim was so +entangled, and so met and barred by other claims, that he could not +unravel it.</p> + +<p>The Mackinnons had sold, without a right, land and works. Tam had bought +equally without a warrant. He would be entitled to his purchase-money +back again, he supposed, if there was a grain of justice in men’s laws; +but that would be little in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85">{85}</a></span> comparison to the rents and shares of +profits he might be called on to refund, and the sums of money he had +expended on buildings and improvements which he had made on another +man’s property without his consent, for which there was no reason that +he should have compensation. If the miserable discovery had been made in +other circumstances, there was just a chance that he might have +surmounted it. He might have compounded for wrong done—without any evil +intention on his part—in which as it had happened he had been the most +cruelly wronged, and continued his business an impoverished but not a +ruined man. It was otherwise this year, when, as he had known, he had +need of not only all his available capital, but his unimpaired credit, +to carry him through the pressure occasioned by extravagant outlay and +over-trading, when there were dropping shots of failures on every side, +like minute-guns at sea, gathering gloom on the Exchange, a glutted +market, forced sales, short hours, improvi<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86">{86}</a></span>dent work-people beginning to +starve without the apology of a strike, stinted indulgences, forbidden +pleasures, haggard faces, heavy hearts, care and doubt, and dread for +what was coming on all hands.</p> + +<p>This was the reverse side of that splendid prosperity of which in its +intoxication men had said, raving, that it would never come to an end; +and Tam, who had seen both sides more than once before, had raved like +the rest, with the least excuse, because he had boasted he had known all +the turns of trade. He had been as blind and besotted as any tyro in +commerce—blinder at the last than his own son Tam, who was new to the +business. He had over-speculated and risked the most daring ventures, +and he would have wanted all the help of a secure position and +untrammelled reserves of power to bring the past year’s undertakings to +a successful issue—to prevent them, like Pharaoh’s lean cattle, +swallowing up their well-fleshed brethren—nay, so to control and compel +them as to make them the instruments of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87">{87}</a></span> the further building up of his +fortunes, in spite of formidable odds, and of the extension and +preservation of his name for deep sagacity and broadly-calculated +enterprise.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam had still hoped this with a high heart till his conversation +with Mr. Greig in his office. What had been a faintly appalling +suspicion then, was now a crushing reality; and he knew that to confess +it publicly, as he was bound to do, and make restitution of what he had +unawares acquired without the title to do so, meant simply, under +present circumstances, dire ruin, without the hope of retrieving his +losses. He could hardly even escape moral blame. Men might indeed free +him from having been knowingly a party to the illegal transfer of +Drysdale Haugh, which had rebounded so heavily on his own head; but they +would not fail to accuse him of over-confidence and carelessness, and as +‘give a dog a bad name and hang him,’ so they would count as little less +than criminal the magnitude of those far-afield speculations<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88">{88}</a></span> which had, +as it proved, been raised on a foundation of sand, and not of rock. It +would not matter—for the world never stopped to make such +reservations—that he had been as ignorant of the instability of his +foundation when he incurred these obligations, as the humblest bleacher +or printer in his employment. Men would look at the whole story as +giving the lie to the testimony by which they had united in calling him +a prince and a ruler in trade, and had learned to put unbounded faith in +his probity, his judgment, his discretion.</p> + +<p>Tam Drysdale would be ruined without remedy, and he would ruin many +another in his fall—from large firms, linked inseparably with his, to +small contractors who had been his early comrades, like Willie Coates.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam grew dizzy as he contemplated the catastrophe, and tried to +take in all the consequences. Then he said he would sleep upon it, since +it was a thing that no man could take action upon at a momen<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89">{89}</a></span>t’s notice. +He replaced the papers in his desk, dropping them as if the fingers +which could no longer retain them were palsied, locked them up, +unfastened his room door, and walked out, feeling for the first time in +his life that he had been up too early, had been in Glasgow at work all +day, and was not so young as he had been. He said as much when he joined +his family in the drawing-room; and his Eppie, glancing up quickly in +his face, noticed, with a sharp pain, that her Tam looked ten years +older since morning. His comely, fresh-coloured face was grey and lined, +his eyes seemed sunken, the very carriage of his head was altered. Could +it be the beginning of a sudden ‘breaking-up’ of his manly frame? She +had heard of such unexpected, untimely breakings-up, specially in men of +active habits, who had done as great things for themselves and their +families as Tam Drysdale had done. It would break her heart for his +sake; but if he were to become prematurely aged and infirm, if waiting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90">{90}</a></span> +upon him on her ‘bended knees,’ if nursing him every hour of the +twenty-four, if studying every sick man’s idle peevish fancy could +solace him, he should have the solace—she would do it for her goodman, +the lover of her youth, the father of her bairns, with her last breath, +and it would be the greatest comfort left to her.</p> + +<p>After auld Tam’s admission of fatigue, it was natural that he should sit +and rest in his chair, while young Eppie sang softly to him. Her mother +wished she had not chosen ‘The Land o’ the Leal’ for her first song; +indeed, Tam himself interposed as if he could not bear it, saying,</p> + +<p>‘Not that, bairn; can you not give us something less dowie [sad]?’</p> + +<p>But when Eppie gave him ‘Tak’ your auld cloak about you,’ he failed to +beat time to the tune.</p> + +<p>Tam supped composedly, to all outward appearance, but privately he felt +as if he were swallowing, not to say borrowed, but stolen food, every +morsel of which threat<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91">{91}</a></span>ened to choke him. He lay awake during the long +night, hearing every hour strike on the numerous clocks and timepieces +which were no longer his any more than the bed he was stretched upon. It +had been a whim of his to furnish every room with a timepiece, and to +make it his business to see that the time in each case was told +accurately. Now, every clock of them all combined to say that his days +at Drysdale Hall were numbered, that still briefer was the space before +he must tell his wife and children the great reverse which had befallen +them. He had seemed sufficient for them in past years, but after all he +had made a mess of both his own life and theirs. He had brought them up +for a station which they were not called upon to fill; he had +disqualified them from being ordinary working men and women, and he +greatly feared that he could do little or nothing to atone for the +injury he had inflicted where he had meant to confer the greatest +benefit. He had been forgetful in his prosperity that he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92">{92}</a></span> was growing +more than middle-aged, and all these tokens of time in the rooms, which +were beating and ticking and striking around him, seemed only there to +remind him that the afternoon shadows had fallen across his path, and +that though he would gladly employ what was left of it in toiling to +make another business, and earn a fresh fortune for his children to +spend, soon little more than the evening of life would remain to him. He +could not bring back the past and live again the young, strong life, in +which hardship and self-denial and work which might have tried a horse +were burdens easy to carry, in the light of the confidence which had +never been dashed and the hope that had known no disappointment.</p> + +<p>All the time Eppie was lying ‘waukrife’ (wakeful) by his side, not +stirring an inch, hardly daring to breathe, in case she should waft away +that downy sleep of which she was persuaded her husband stood greatly in +need. She only took it upon her to remonstrate—in vain, though she was +at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93">{93}</a></span> the same time slightly reassured by his making the exertion and by +the determination with which he persisted in it—when he would rise +betimes, even earlier than his usual hour.</p> + +<p>It was a fine September morning, and Tam strolled out upon the terrace, +before breakfast, and looked about him. Yonder lay his bleach-fields, +with the dew glittering upon the whiteness, into which all the rainbow +colours were merged at this distance. The inhabitants of the thriving +village, the roofs of which were just visible beyond the tree-tops of +Barley Riggs, were dependent upon these fields and the adjoining works +for their daily bread. How would it fare with them when his rule was at +an end? Would the long ‘offisher lad’ Mackinnon, with the drawling +tongue and the indifferent manner, into whose hands Drysdale Haugh must +fall, make anything of it—make more of it than his father had made? +What chance was there? Not the most distant.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94">{94}</a></span></p> + +<p>What retribution was this that had come upon him, Tam Drysdale? He had +never willingly wronged a Mackinnon of them; for that matter he had +never, with his knowledge and by his consent, injured any human being. +He had sought all his life to help his neighbours as he had helped +himself. He had exerted himself to save the old Miss Mackinnons from +starvation, which their precious grand-nephew had been too supercilious +a puppy so much as to conceive of, and present a sufficient shield +between the women who had reared him and a beggar’s death. Auld Tam had +interposed a second time to deliver the ladies from the consequences of +their trespass against the law of the land, and had striven his hardest +to rescue them, else they might have been transported beyond the seas at +this day, grey-headed gentlewomen though they were, without their cipher +of a gentleman nephew being able to help it.</p> + +<p>And what had been Tam Drysdale’s reward? That he had planned and +laboured<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95">{95}</a></span> and built and improved, for Guy Mackinnon’s son to enter upon +Tam’s labours, and reap the fruits of the harvest his father had wasted +and sold for his ease and pleasure—as much as ever Esau had sold his +birthright for a mess of pottage. Shall not the Judge of all the earth +do right? Yet He had allowed the legality of Esau’s deed, while He was +going to annul Gavin Mackinnon’s. The God of Bethel had upheld Jacob +after he had sought to clinch his bargain by a barefaced deception, +practised on a blind old man—his own father; but He would forsake Tam +Drysdale. Tam was at the bottom of his heart a sincerely religious man; +but, as often happens, in the great trial of his life his faith was +assailed by such violent gusts of doubt and despair as threatened to +tear the plant up by the roots, and leave it to wither and be burnt like +any worthless weed of accident and habit.</p> + +<p>Near at hand the early morning sun was glinting on the ivy, shrouding +the bit of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96">{96}</a></span> the building which had belonged to the old farmhouse—the +dwelling of that earlier Drysdale against whom Tam had hitherto borne no +grudge for transferring his property through Beenie Pryde and Maggie +Craig to the Mackinnons. Tam had considered that the man had a right to +do what he liked with his own, and that Tam’s unfortunate father had +justly forfeited any claim of kinship. On the whole, Tam had preferred +that he should win back what had belonged to his progenitors by his +individual industry and ability, so that it might be doubly his. But +now, he felt as if his father’s cousin had been in a conspiracy to +betray him to the Mackinnons, to enable them not only to get their own +out of him, but to serve themselves for long years after he had ceased +to be their servant with his sinews and brains—to end by robbing him of +his best, under no plea except that he had taken what they had not +prized, what they had actually tendered for his acceptance, without the +right to do so.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97">{97}</a></span></p> + +<p>On this side of the terrace were the offices and gardens on which their +master had bestowed such pains, where his beasts were lodged like +Christians, and his flowers were the finest in the west-country—for +Eneas Mackinnon to boast of. Great beds of gorgeous autumn dahlias, and +tall hollyhocks, untouched as yet by frost, had been so arranged that +the gazer from the terrace could catch a glimpse of their wealth of size +and colour, and Tam, walking there only yesterday morning, had wondered +if the hanging gardens of Damascus had held anything more stately and +splendid.</p> + +<p>As auld Tam looked, young Eppie came tripping out in her fresh +morning-gown, calling upon her father to praise her for her early +rising, asking if he would not go with her to the orchid-house, which he +had not seen since Neil had done stocking it; and did he know Neil said +the dwarf apricot and peach trees, which he had kept back and was now to +put under glass, would provide the table with peaches and apricots<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98">{98}</a></span> all +the winter, and that the silver sand and peat mould had answered so well +with the rhododendrons, next spring the heads would be as big as +cabbages. Did he think it could be true that he would beat Lady Semple +and everybody at the next year’s flower-shows?</p> + +<p>Auld Tam was restless to set off to Glasgow to his office, though he had +a sense beforehand that there, as here, not only would the glory be +departed, he would look at everything with the eyes of a doomed man. He +would feel like the dying man on whom the irrevocable sentence has +passed, that within a period longer or shorter, measured in this +instance by a refinement of torture with his own hand, he must go forth +and be no longer seen, while the place which had known him, where he had +been happy and honoured, would know him no more.</p> + +<p>Tam wondered, as he drove through the streets, who would miss him, and +for how long they would speak of his rise and fall,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99">{99}</a></span> as he had heard +other histories spoken of, half as an encouragement, half as a warning. +He passed into his office, the brass plate on the door bearing ‘Messrs. +Thomas Drysdale & Son’ still showing the last two words freshly cut in +the metal. He received the usual respectful greetings as if he were in +some sort a stranger there already, though nobody else knew it—as if +the greetings were not intended for him, but for another person, so that +there was a species of mockery in his accepting them.</p> + +<p>Still, auld Tam was strong enough to make no sign which anyone save a +woman like Eppie the elder, with the intuition of love and the nearness +to the object of her scrutiny which she commanded, could have detected. +Even young Tam was not aware that there was anything amiss with his +father. More than once, as the hours passed by, the younger man admired +the acuteness of perception and the grasp both of present details and +future results which the head of the firm showed in negotiating<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100">{100}</a></span> sundry +extensive transactions that came in the course of the day’s work. For, +fairly launched in the full swing of his engagements, Tam rid himself of +every paralyzing abstraction that had seized hold of him, and was, if +anything, more alert and earnest in business than ever, as if the +prosperity of Drysdale and Son depended upon how he discharged his +customary duties.</p> + +<p>According to what was no infrequent occurrence in auld Tam’s experience, +appeals were made to him on behalf of others engaged in the same +business, and where the interests of trade in general and of some of the +municipal affairs of the city were concerned. He was asked to pronounce +on the dealings of strangers, to give his opinion on clashing theories; +he was invited to take an active part in one of the political questions +which was reckoned of vital moment to the welfare of his townsmen, and +never had the decisions, which were listened to with such flattering<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101">{101}</a></span> +attention, struck the hearers as shrewder, sounder, more unbiased, more +worthy of the man.</p> + +<p>That day’s programme was a sample of many such programmes, for still +auld Tam put off taking action on the discovery he had made. As he had +said to himself that it was not a step to take on the spur of the +moment, he went on to say it was not a step to take on a week or a +month’s notice. A man must have time to set his house in order—such a +great house as Tam had reared and was about to pull down—to think and +plan if nothing could be done to render the overthrow less complete, to +seek the first legal advice in the country, as Tam had been prone to do +in matters of much less moment, and ascertain if there were no +honourable way out of the labyrinth. Yet all the time Tam sickened at +the thought of law and lawyers, and he did not believe that there could +be any loophole for escape. His common-sense, stimulated by the hints +Mr. Greig had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102">{102}</a></span> given him, convinced the proprietor of Drysdale Haugh +that marriage contracts, about which he had thought so little, must be +made for the most part in the interest of the children of the +contracting parties, to preserve to them their inheritance, and that no +tampering with such legal obligations could be permitted.</p> + +<p>Thus, though Tam told himself that he was waiting to consult the +foremost lawyers, the consultation too was deferred until all at once he +began to ask himself, with a certain fierceness in the question, whether +he were called upon to sacrifice himself and all he held dear. His +Eppie, young Tam, and the rest; his earnings, his reputation, his trade; +‘these sheep’ over at the works, who would suffer in a hundred ways from +being consigned to incapable hands—all to undo the consequences of a +negligence to which Tam could not deny that he had been a party, but +with regard to which he had certainly been the least guilty. If he +obeyed the dictates of a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103">{103}</a></span> scrupulous conscience, a gross injustice would +be committed. The child of the principal offender, who could never have +missed what he had never possessed or dreamt of possessing, and would +not know what to do with if it were laid at his feet, would reap a huge +profit from the wrong done by his father and mother against him and his +neighbour.</p> + +<p>After Tam had landed himself in this moral quagmire, a new torment beset +him. He was haunted by the presence of Sandy Macnab, the dog-man at +Semple Barns. Go where Tam liked, in the streets of Glasgow, on the +country roads near Drysdale Hall and Semple Barns, Sandy Macnab was +constantly turning up promiscuously very much in the fashion of a +fatality. Of course Tam, in his distempered frame of mind, was liable to +exaggerate the accident; nevertheless it existed. Naturally the sight of +Sandy, with the recollections it conjured up, was not from the first +agreeable to Tam. As time pro<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104">{104}</a></span>gressed, and the workings of his mind had +reached a certain stage, they began, in spite of him, to present the +strapping, easy-minded, thick-skinned Highlander in the light of an +accomplice forced upon Tam’s notice. Before long the merest glimpse of +the muscular figure, with the erect, almost martial, gait and elastic +step, the swarthy complexion, the roving eye, the fluttering tartans, +became perfectly detestable to the person who had once been full of a +fine serenity, but was fast growing fidgety, testy, and disposed to +consider himself impertinently intruded upon.</p> + +<p>Rather inexplicably, Sandy, who could not be depended upon for fine +feelings, had shown, to begin with, considerable sympathy with auld +Tam’s aversion to encountering him. Sandy, too, had given signs of +trouble at the persistent luck by which he came across the master of +Drysdale Hall in these recent days. It boded no good to +either—according to the Highlander’s superstitious fancies. To be +always<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105">{105}</a></span> running up against a gentleman was a token that you and he had +something more than either of you guessed, perhaps, to do with each +other—something in common to answer for, it might be; and if so, that +retribution was already dogging your steps.</p> + +<p>So Sandy also had practised looking another way and making a pretence of +not seeing his master’s friend. But this becoming shyness and reserve +had not lasted for any length of time. After a short interval Sandy +Macnab rather sought to attract Tam’s attention, and made various +overtures to speak with him—not without a hateful mysteriousness that +defeated its object. Tam resisted indignantly. He was not sunk to this, +that he should have Sandy Macnab for his confidant, and live at his +mercy. Far better let the man tell the little he knew in whatever +quarter he liked, and anticipate the announcement which auld Tam was +never sure that he might not make any day. He only questioned its +righteousness with a sore ques<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106">{106}</a></span>tioning, and waited till he could satisfy +himself of its propriety; but he would take no blackguard precautions to +conceal the contract which had come by no act of his into his hands, +which he might have destroyed the moment he understood its real bearing, +and nobody been any wiser. It would have been time enough then to make +terms with a groom and dog-man, a forward, swaggering hanger-on of the +gentry; a thick-sculled whelp like Sandy Macnab. But instead, the paper +lay, safe and untampered with, in the desk in Tam’s business-room, ready +for him to produce any day, and to pass on, as he had meant on receiving +it, to ‘the offisher lad Mackinnon.’</p> + +<p>After the casual encounters had come to have the air of Sandy Macnab’s +being regularly on the outlook for Tam, though the Highlander’s general +deportment was not so much insolently aggressive as shamefacedly +anxious, and as if he had something on his mind to impart; and after +the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107">{107}</a></span> man had advanced more than once with a scrape of a bow and an +apologetic ‘Gude-day to you, Mr. Drysdale, if you please, sir—— ’ and +Tam had brushed past with a short nod, or an answering ‘Gude-day to you, +Macnab—another time, I’m engaged,’ delivered unwillingly and briefly, +the interruption became more serious. Sandy would not be so easily +dismissed; he stood his ground and persistently pressed for a hearing. +‘I maun have a word wi’ you, Mr. Drysdale; I’ll not keep you a moment.’</p> + +<p>‘You can have no word with me,’ forbade Tam, sternly and rudely. ‘Man, +do you not see I’m about my proper business?’ (the colloquy was in a +street in Glasgow); ‘I’m not to be stopped by a carle like you.’</p> + +<p>It was the first time that auld Tam had exhibited his ascent in the +social scale by employing an opprobrious term and behaving with +arrogance to a social inferior. He had been wont to show himself +markedly civil, even gentle, towards the class to which he had formerly +belonged. He<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108">{108}</a></span> was losing his manners as well as his tranquillity in his +tribulation.</p> + +<p>‘But it’s about Rory, sir,’ Sandy explained hurriedly, in an impressive +under-tone.</p> + +<p>‘What have I to do with your Rories?’ protested Tam, in a sudden, +unreasoning fury. ‘He may gang to the deevil if he likes, and you too; +it is no business of mine. You know you did me out of a sum of money +because a daft caird [mad tramp] in the country you hail from had a +parcel of stolen auld papers—which were nothing to me—that he had +travelled sooth with, expecting me, or some other fule with money in his +pockets, to buy them. That I was so far left to mysel’ is no warrant for +you to waylay me in the open street and pester me about a rogue and +vagabond. If he had gotten his deserts I should have handed him over to +the police, with you in his company. Stand out of my road, sir, or I’ll +speak to Sir Jeames about this nuisance.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109">{109}</a></span></p> + +<p>Sandy Macnab gave way instantly, looking not so much indignant as +confounded, which he well might be.</p> + +<p>‘Is the honest man in a frenzy?’ he asked himself. ‘Sir Jeames, when he +has risen aff his wrong side, is nothing to him. Yet I’ve aye heard that +this bleacher billie [fellow] was a douce chiel and easy to deal with. I +did not find him so ill to get on wi’ when I gave him a ca’ at his +place; no, though puir Rory was maist rampageous, and the gentleman was +a thocht hard upon me for maistering the craytur. Where would he have +been without me? I’m thinking I’ve stood his friend from first to last, +though I may have put my fit into the business this time. Is’t siller +that makes the gentleman—auld Tam as they ca’ him—neither to haud nor +to bind when his contered [crossed], or is it because he cam’ out of the +gutter? I’m thinking it maun be the last, for his son, that is his +partner and maun have the pouch [purse] in his turn, is a ceevil<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110">{110}</a></span> enough +spoken lad. He will have learned the manners of gentlemen, and not care +to rage like a bull of Bashan when there is no occasion for it. If there +had been cause the thing would have been different. A man can forgie a +round of curses when there is sufficient provocation. It’s a faut that +the highest in the land may fa’ into without prejudice. But just because +he was asked with a’ respect to stand still and lend an ear, it is +preposterous. Weel, I’ve dune my best to make a clean briest and quiet +Bawby Sed’s wake mind, but a wilfu’ man maun have his way, and if ill +come of it the wyte’s [blame’s] none of mine.’</p> + +<p>Sandy Macnab ceased from that day to thrust himself on Tam’s notice or +to crave speech with him; but the incident had made a painful +impression, which rankled in Tam’s memory. Among all the misery of this +time he could not shake off the apprehension that the annoyance would +repeat itself—that it had a motive which he had yet to fathom.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111">{111}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII.</a><br><br> +<small>IN THE BALANCE.</small></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">The</span> world went on much the same this autumn, though everything under the +sun was altered to Tam Drysdale, as he knew. The slight sprinkling of +grey, which had been all that had appeared formerly in his brown hair, +was on the road to become a heavy powdering of white.</p> + +<p>A wistful light had crept into the happy eyes of the elder Eppie, which +were now so often resting, as she would have said, stowlins [by stealth] +on her husband. Her rampant prosperity was subdued by a hidden sorrow. +Something was wrong with her Tam which she could not divine; she only +knew that he did not come to her for con<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112">{112}</a></span>solation; so she supposed the +evil, whatever it might be, was beyond her power of alleviation, and she +was silently sorry, with a meek devoted woman’s unscorning, ungrudging +pity.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Drysdale was not half so fine or nearly so ridiculous as she had +been. What did she care for finery when there was something amiss with +Tam? And as she ceased to pay heed to the good things of her position, +and the suitable deportment they called for from her, her vulgarity was +toned down, and she lost much of her self-consciousness and superficial +affectation. A new charm was added to her other attractions. Something +like the dawning of dignity—the dignity of indifference to the +accidents of circumstance, and of a soul occupied by higher +things—began to show itself in Eppie. But these were subtle signs, and +they were the sole indication that anything had happened; though they +might be indirectly felt, they were not distinctly recognised.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113">{113}</a></span></p> + +<p>Drysdale Hall was, to all outward appearance, the same as it had ever +been since it was created by its present owner; and since young Tam and +Clary had grown up, bringing with them fresh life and +movement—animated, full of the thrills and throbs of passion in natures +endowed with the strength and ardour of their early prime, even while it +was most divergent and discordant where the general current was +concerned. And now a new figure in the second generation—young Eppie, +in her simplicity and sweetness, was hovering on the threshold of that +flight into the world which boys and girls must take sooner or later.</p> + +<p>As the tides obey the moon, so do the lower strata of society answer to +the higher, though the distance between them is more or less great, and +there are no conspicuous points of union. Because Parliament is up, and +London deserted by the upper ten thousand in September, so those who are +not in Parliament, and have nobody con<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114">{114}</a></span>nected with them affected by its +sitting and rising, choose that season when the daylight is beginning to +shorten and the moderate heat to cool, when wild flowers are mostly gone +and birds have ceased to sing, for their annual holiday and their +sojourn in the country. Rural resorts which have no call to answer to +the necessities of legislators become inundated with temporary residents +who have not even the excuse of being bandsters [binders of corn], or +theekers [thatchers] of stacks, or peripatetic owners of +thrashing-machines, and are callous to all the delights of June with her +long days and broomy braes, and July with her meridian heat, her +bluebells by the wayside, and her dog-roses in the hedgerows. But there +is one glory gilding the fall of the year, that exists alike for gentle +and simple of the more combative sex. It is not compelled by the +breaking-up of Parliament, the partial closing of Government offices, +the vacations of the law courts, though it does much in its turn<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115">{115}</a></span> to +compel these pauses in the business of the country. The name of this +potent charmer is ‘Sport,’ which reigns from the 12th of August to the +last hunt of the advancing spring. The enchantress is rampant in her +sway when the moors, the turnip-fields, the coverts, are possessed by an +army of men in shooting-jackets, with staghounds and pointers for their +allies, and the air is full of the bang of small artillery.</p> + +<p>St. Mungo’s City is not an exception to the rest of the world, in the +desire to kill the beautiful wild creatures of the hills and the fields. +After Glasgow has poured her swarms ‘down the water,’ in early summer, +she sends fresh swarms of the wealthier grades to render the heather and +the stubble alive with more than deer and grouse, hares and pheasants. +Autumn always brought a pleasant excitement of company and gaiety to +Drysdale Hall, with crowded breakfast-tables, meetings at the scene of +action, open-air luncheons, frequent guests to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116">{116}</a></span> dinner, little dances +when there were enough young people in the house. Doubtless the fashion +was borrowed from Semple Barns, where members of Parliament on the wing +did alight on occasion, and refresh their nervous systems, exhausted by +services to the nation, with tramping through briars and brambles, +leaping over ditches, and bringing down partridges.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam commanded a little good shooting on his property, and he rented +a moor within two hours’ journey by railway, on which active men, +accustomed both to business and hunting hours, starting with the lark +and reaching their destination before the dew was dry on the red ling, +could traverse the ground, fill creditable bags, and be back to dinner +several times a week, from the 12th to the 1st, when prey nearer home +afforded the coveted pursuit without the sacrifice of a railway journey.</p> + +<p>Tam Drysdale hardly took his gun in his hand this season, but in the +other direction<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117">{117}</a></span> young Tam allowed himself greater indulgence in the +natural propensity of the biped that can pull a trigger. The only +eccentricity he displayed was that he was quick to share moor and +shooting with any of his managers who had taken out licenses, and that +the son kept up the father’s practice in the disposal of the spoil of +his gun. Instead of sending the game to fetch a fair price in the +Glasgow poultry-shops, he despatched what did not find its way to the +Drysdale Hall larder, to Dr. Peter Murray for distribution among his +patients, or to the appreciative wives and families of bleachers and +dyers who would otherwise have had little chance of tasting hare or +pheasant that was honestly come by.</p> + +<p>Young Tam was not left to cope with the fowls of the air and the hares +and the rabbits of the pasture single-handed, save for his subordinates +or his Glasgow acquaintance who could exchange a shooting with him. +Eneas Mackinnon, who was understood to be indebted to his friends<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118">{118}</a></span> for +such sport as he got, came over with Dick Semple whenever they were not +better employed elsewhere.</p> + +<p>A far more brilliant ally arrived in good time. Sir Hugo Willoughby had +kept his word. He had reappeared just when he had said he would, and was +making himself more popular than ever by declining to herd with his kind +and by casting in his lot with the young Glasgow men. In fact, he kept +hovering in the immediate vicinity of St. Mungo’s City, with its roar of +traffic, its smoky abominations, its boisterous superfluity and +ostentation. He defied Guy Horsburgh, who began to look uneasy in the +office of bear-leader, which he had taken upon himself, to wile him, Sir +Hugo, to any distance—to induce him to take a yachting voyage to +Iceland or a walking tour in Ross or Sutherland—to try a bout of +deer-stalking in any of the deer forests, the tenants of which were +friends of his. He would not even go down with Guy to that Court in +Lincolnshire which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119">{119}</a></span> he had often proposed to show to his friend, where +Lady Willoughby sat lonely in her castle hall, awaiting her truant son +in vain, and where preserves choke-full of all the lowland game which +could satisfy the heart of a man or the muzzle of a gun were wasting +their sweetness on the desert air, and calling loudly for an absent, +inconsiderate squire to diminish the <i>embarras des richesses</i>, else he +would have a host of farmers, his natural allies, rising up in open +rebellion against him. Not above a certain radius of miles would Sir +Hugo budge from Glasgow—Glasgow in August and September, not Glasgow +down-the-water, fresh with sea and mountain breezes, but Glasgow inland, +with her thick carpet of grimy dust and her black pall of filthy +smoke—Glasgow squalid, careworn, miserable, when the depression of +trade caused the fitful rattle of the machinery to sound eerie and +hollow as when slaves shake their chains, and the sweat of men’s brows +began to gather in the big drops of despair.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120">{120}</a></span> There was nothing more +terrible to fear save the silence of death, when a great strike +testifies to the revolt of one class and the rending asunder of two.</p> + +<p>It might have been that young Sir Hugo was so true a philosopher and so +promising a patriot that he was bent on becoming acquainted with all +shades of life in one of the great trade centres which he had elected to +study. But so far as this went, Sir Hugo turned his back on the city and +was engrossed with the wonders of his own young existence. At this time +he neither knew nor cared much for its sins and sorrows, cherishing a +sanguine hope that they would all cure themselves somehow, and be mended +by an alchemy with which he had nothing to do. It was the neighbourhood +of Glasgow, and not Glasgow itself, to which he was nailed. The +Horsburghs had their country-house not far from Drysdale Hall, and +though it was the most commonplace of modern dwellings, he was content +with it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121">{121}</a></span></p> + +<p>Be it said also that Sir Hugo had returned to his first love—to the +pursuit of the Cinderella who had fled from him in the Drysdale Hall +picture-gallery, the ‘young thing, just come frae her mammy,’ who had +sung to him in the Drysdale Hall drawing-room. He had called Athole +Murray charming, but he had forgotten her wit long before he saw her +face again. It was the recollection of young Eppie’s guileless +sweetness, combined with her spring-time loveliness, which he called +divine, that had taken fast hold of his mind.</p> + +<p>Sir Hugo could not display these inclinations without causing a flutter +of marvel and speculation; but first when he came back auld Tam took no +further notice of the young man, about whom he had made such a fuss at +Easter, than if he had been an ordinary mortal. It seemed as if a +benumbing power was at work on the master of Drysdale Hall. He became +cold and passive to what would formerly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122">{122}</a></span> have roused him to hot and +strong approbation or opposition. He made no more sign of displeasure at +the continued presence of Eneas Mackinnon at Drysdale Hall, than of +pleasure at the pertinacity with which Sir Hugo Willoughby seized every +opportunity of renewing his visits. Not the lifting of a finger, the +flicker of an eyelid, the raising of the voice, uttered an imperative +protest when young Tam showed again his exclusive preference for Barley +Riggs among the houses of his acquaintance, and, under pretext of +watching some chemical experiments conducted by Dr. Peter in his +laboratory, spent three evenings of the week there.</p> + +<p>It was as if a dull indifference was settling down on auld Tam—a +strange insensibility to what had been wont to affect him in the +liveliest manner. His wife, who but for him would have been at the +height of a mother’s mingled pride and pain, quivering with excitement +like the youngest hero or heroine among them,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123">{123}</a></span> whose fortune was hanging +in the balance, grew more and more puzzled, chilled, frightened, by +Tam’s want of sympathy, even of angry interest, in the affairs of his +children at what looked like a turning-point in their destiny.</p> + +<p>Clary, who had braced herself for a contest—violent while it +lasted—had her whole ideas upset by finding that there was apparently +to be no altercation—she was to be let alone to go her own ways. It was +not an inspiriting change to a woman of her temperament, and she was the +next thing to piqued by it. If she had cared only for asserting her +will, and had not been thoroughly honest, with a capacity for +steadfastness where her affections were placed, she might have been +driven to give up Eneas Mackinnon.</p> + +<p>As for Eneas, in spite of all the encouragement that a young proud woman +could give him, he had been tempted to hang back, in an agony of +mortified self-respect, sensitiveness and shame, from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124">{124}</a></span> the inevitable +explanation and the almost equally inevitable accusation of presumption +and unworthy motives on his part, which the announcement to auld Tam +would call forth. Eneas, too, was dumbfounded, and in some degree +overwhelmed by the amnesty that was granted to him. Was he to go on +shooting Tam Drysdale’s partridges on the land which had belonged to +Eneas’s mother, eating auld Tam’s dinners—the usual end to the day’s +shootings—making love to his beautiful capable daughter, with her free +consent, under her father’s very nose, or was Eneas to fail Claribel and +withdraw at the last moment, vanquished by the strange trust put in him?</p> + +<p>Young Tam was lordlier in his behaviour. He acted as if he did not see +that his father had any right to dispose of his son’s spare time or +modify his taste for this or that company. He made no bones of going +over to Barley Riggs. He did not condescend to the smallest concealment. +He<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125">{125}</a></span> had even the coolness to borrow his father’s lantern on a dark rainy +night, looking auld Tam in the face as the son proffered the request, +telling the owner where the light was to guide the willing feet that +scouted a carriage, and were ready to trudge through wind and rain to +reach their goal.</p> + +<p>‘Tak’ the lantern, laddie. You’ll find it in the harness-room,’ said Tam +gruffly, but without boiling over, without even wincing, though he let +his head drop a little on his breast.</p> + +<p>Was nothing else worth caring for so long as that thing hung over his +head? Might his children all come and go—they for whom he had striven, +who were as the apple of his eye, whom not so long ago he would fain +have curbed and bent to force them into other channels than those they +had formed for themselves, for the lad and lass’s good? Could they do as +they liked for anything their father cared, he was so hopeless and +heartless for them, for himself, for the whole world?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126">{126}</a></span></p> + +<p>Dr. Peter, in wholesome unconsciousness, was as blind as ever; and all +that Athole Murray did was to laugh at young Tam till the tears came +into her own eyes, to twit him with his opinions and performances, to +shut herself up with her patterns, pets, and books, and excuse herself +from coming to see the retorts, disappointing both of the operators—to +keep away from Drysdale Hall and every other place where she was likely +to encounter the young man.</p> + +<p>But Athole was beginning to meet her match. Tam the younger was fast +out-growing that sour effervescence of greenness and youth to which Dr. +Peter had once alluded. The junior partner in Drysdale and Son’s was +losing his self-consciousness and susceptibility. He was settling down +into calm, strong manhood, knowing what it wanted, and not to be easily +turned from seeking to supply its wants. Young Tam was ceasing to mind +Athole’s flouts. He <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127">{127}</a></span>had advanced so far as to smile at them—a little +grimly, perhaps, but still to smile and go on his way without being in +the slightest degree deterred by her bearing. He did not mean to show +it, but a certain quiet, far from unhappy masterfulness was stealing +into his looks and tones. She did not know that she betrayed it, but a +certain humility and nervousness, which were not altogether unhappy +either, though the unacknowledged restraint provoked and affronted her, +lurked under her most audacious sally and sharpest repartee.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128">{128}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII.</a><br><br> +<small>A DROWNING MAN’S STRAWS.</small></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">It</span> was none of the persons chiefly concerned, but a mere looker-on, who, +without in the least understanding the case, awoke auld Tam from his +lethargy, and gave his troubled mind a new bias.</p> + +<p>Lady Semple, with her natural versatility, had long ago renounced her +projects for Claribel as the destined Lady Willoughby. Lady Semple had, +not without reason, made up her mind instead that Claribel Drysdale +ought to marry Mr. Mackinnon. Her father could not really disapprove of +the poor match for his elder daughter, else he would not have allowed +her to come prominently forward, as she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129">{129}</a></span> had come, to the help of the +unfortunate old ladies. Nothing would warrant such compromising conduct +in a young lady except an attachment, of which, indeed, her ladyship had +not been without her suspicions at an earlier date, to be speedily +followed by the announcement of an engagement to the grand-nephew.</p> + +<p>Lady Semple went on to argue the matter in all its bearings. It was a +magnificent instance of mercantile liberality and generosity in a man +whom she had always admired and esteemed, whom she was proud to call her +friend as well as her neighbour. It would be a splendid thing for Dick’s +friend—an interposition of Providence on his behalf and the making of +him. And it was quite a romance on Claribel’s part. Lady Semple herself +was not romantic, but when wealthy parents countenanced romance the +principal objection to it was removed, and the most prudent third person +might follow suit without compunction.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130">{130}</a></span></p> + +<p>Lady Semple would certainly stand by Claribel when she was Mrs. +Mackinnon, both for the sake of Dick and his friend, and because of her +ladyship’s regard for the young lady. There would be no loss of prestige +for her, since the poorest officer’s wife would rank with the daughter +of the richest dyer and cotton-printer any day; and Mr. Drysdale’s money +would not come amiss, though unluckily promotion was no longer to be +bought. The thinker meant unluckily only in this instance; she was an +advanced Liberal in politics, and had been almost as anxious for the +abolition of the purchase system as for vote by ballot, though she knew +it would be a blow to a number of her nephews. Dick was an only son, and +he would soon leave the army; he had only adopted it <i>pour passer le +temps</i>, and because all men were the better of being trained to a +profession—she would say a trade, if she had her way.</p> + +<p>The Mackinnons—Mr. Mackinnon and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131">{131}</a></span> his wife—would probably continue in +the army; but if her father settled a regular income upon her, as a man +of his sense and kindness was sure to do, it would not signify much +although he never got beyond the rank of a captain or major. She did not +suppose he would pass higher by merit, though he was a thoroughly good +fellow, fit to be a general where a man’s tone rather than his talent +was concerned. He would make a good steady husband. She had always been +glad that Dick had chosen such a safe friend. Claribel would see the +world with her husband’s regiment, in which she would be a great force; +though it was bad form now to talk of the belle of a regiment—all that +had gone out with promotion by purchase and idle young men with their +practical jokes, pigeon-shooting, and regimental balls. It was out of +date even in fast novels. Officers had now their work to do if they +wished to get on like other men, which was much better for them. But +Claribel would not be tied<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132">{132}</a></span> down. She would have the opportunity of +learning at first hand a variety of things which she, Lady Semple, had +missed mastering. She was tempted to envy her young friend.</p> + +<p>What would Sir Hugo do? Oh, Sir Hugo had found out that for himself, and +it was the most delightful solution possible of the difficulty. He would +woo and win young Eppie—the simplest, most artless of little girls. She +was so young, that she could be easily trained, while her transference +to polite circles would have a thousand times more novelty and charm +than Claribel’s transplantation could have had. It would be a genuine +romance—though Lady Semple was not in the least romantic, any more than +Eppie was a beggar-maid. Still, Sir Hugo was a King Cophetua in his way, +and only the knowledge of what a dear daughter the young girl, who was +devoted to her own good rustic mother, would make to darling unworldly +Lady Willoughby, with her widowed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133">{133}</a></span> life and her devotion to her son, +could fully reconcile Lady Semple to the <i>mésalliance</i>.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale need not be left alone. That Trojan of a son +of theirs—who had resisted her ladyship’s blandishments and those of +the Vaughan girls, who had given in to his father by going into +business—had become, as she had heard, auld Tam’s right hand. He ought +to bring over that independent, original Miss Murray, the daughter of +clever, innocent Dr. Peter. She was a girl whom Lady Semple was dying to +know better. She might be of the greatest assistance to her ladyship in +getting up her Rational Dress Association. Athole would prove a fair +substitute for the loss of Claribel to her friend, as well as for the +double loss of Claribel and Eppie to their parents.</p> + +<p>Having arrived at this triumphant conclusion, Lady Semple felt so sure +of her ground that she could not imagine herself making mischief by +putting in her oar. She first tried a series of broad hints to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134">{134}</a></span> Mrs. +Drysdale. But Mrs. Eppie was so engrossed with the prospect of the +fulfilment of her dreams, so distracted between freshly awakened +tenderness for Clary, trembling exultation over young Eppie, vexation +with young Tam, and trouble about auld Tam, that, candid woman though +she was, it seemed impossible to draw an admission from her, as a step +towards offering her friendly congratulations.</p> + +<p>Thus foiled, Lady Semple, in her high satisfaction, ventured to have +recourse to auld Tam.</p> + +<p>It was one evening when the whole <i>dramatis personæ</i> of Lady Semple’s +genteel comedy were together in the old-fashioned drawing-room at Semple +Barns. So most of them had been on a previous evening, when Tam +Drysdale’s eyes had been opened to the enormity of a penniless officer +of the Mackinnon stock having rendered himself so agreeable to Clary +that he had melted her pride and disordered her understanding, and when +her father had scowled on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135">{135}</a></span> couple, and angrily told his wife that he +would not have such doings.</p> + +<p>The summer had done Sir James good, and he was able to meet company. He +had quite a knot of old friends—from London, from Edinburgh (where the +Court of Session was up, like the Parliament in London), from India, +helping Dick to dispose of the birds. Lady Semple had her neighbours and +friends to meet the greater strangers: the Drysdales—the whole of them +on this occasion; Dr. Peter and Athole Murray, whom her hostess was so +desirous of cultivating; Sir Hugo Willoughby, with Guy Horsburgh; Eneas +Mackinnon, with the son of the house.</p> + +<p>Lady Semple was an accomplished hostess, but her skill was wasted this +evening, for her guests gave her little trouble; they arranged +themselves according to their own wishes, and hers, without an effort. +The old friends mustered round Sir James’s card-table, which he could +again enjoy, enlivening the pauses during the deals by remi<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136">{136}</a></span>niscences of +the past, extracts from their intermediate experience, anticipations of +the next day’s sport.</p> + +<p>Round games for young people were exploded, but there had been an +attempt to try the last play of thought-reading, which had only broken +down because nobody seemed to care to have his or her thought read; +everybody seemed to be more anxious to ascertain his or her neighbour’s.</p> + +<p>Eneas Mackinnon wanted to learn what Claribel Drysdale was thinking as +she inspected the condition of that oddest of sentimental souvenirs—a +hair album, which Lady Semple had once set up.</p> + +<p>Sir Hugo Willoughby desired to penetrate what had been young Eppie’s +fancies as the liquid notes of her voice, which she had been pouring +forth at the piano, near which he was hovering, died away. A few moments +ago she had silenced the whole murmur of sound. The great roomful of old +and young, grave and gay, married and single, men and women of the +world, and men and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137">{137}</a></span> women whom nothing would make worldly, had listened +breathlessly to the expression of the simple faith of a homely, +hard-working breadwinner for some poor family:</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘When Jock and Jean and Janetie,<br></span> +<span class="i3">Are up and gotten lear,<br></span> +<span class="i1">They’ll help to mak’ the boatie row,<br></span> +<span class="i3">And lighten a’ our care.<br></span> +<span class="i1">Then weel may the boatie row,<br></span> +<span class="i3">And better may it speed,<br></span> +<span class="i1">And weel may the boatie row<br></span> +<span class="i3">That wins the bairnies’ breed.’<br></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p>But surely even Eppie, with the clear mirror of her innocent mind +unruffled by a cloud of passion, must have a conception of the time when +Jock and Jean and Janetie were not only up and had ‘gotten lear,’ but +entertained dreams and a life of their own apart from the visions and +the life of the most loving of parents—when the children were in train +to fulfil the Bible prophecy, that a man will leave father and mother +and cleave to his wife.</p> + +<p>Young Tam sought to realize what Athole Murray meant when she told with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138">{138}</a></span> +such merry eloquence to Dr. Peter, in the younger man’s hearing, her +determination to set agoing a <i>Haus Chronik</i>, such as she had read of in +a German book. It was to be a Home Chronicle of which the pages stood +for the years of her life. She would put the leading scene of the year +by means of pencil and brush on the appointed page. For instance, her +father’s being thrown by Lady Fair when the train went across Aytoun +Brig; or herself finding the old iron pot in the garden, which had +formed such a delicious study of rusty-brown ever since. Another +incident might be Jeannie’s refusing the baker’s man at the +kitchen-door; because if Jeannie had said ‘Yes, if you please,’ the +domestic economy of Barley Riggs would have sustained a severe shock. +Oh! he need not think that nobody would understand her compositions, or +be the wiser for them, because she was to write in old characters—now +her handwriting was fairly readable in modern, so it need <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139">{139}</a></span>not be wholly +illegible in old characters—the details of that annual great event, so +that he who ran could read and be instructed.</p> + +<p>Would Jeannie and the baker’s man be the only couple who were to figure +in the Barley Riggs Home Chronicle, if it ever had a being save in +Athole’s busy brain? and must the scene always be a dismissal?</p> + +<p>Mrs. Drysdale also was looking across at her husband, as if to ask him +the reason why he drew apart from the other elderly man present, and +stood with his hands behind his back gazing, not on the card-table, but +on vacancy.</p> + +<p>The husband and wife did not look so much <i>au fait</i> to each other’s +minds as they had once looked to a comical extent, or so inclined to +refer to each other. The change might easily be when there was such an +inroad of exciting elements into their family life, on which it was just +possible the couple might hold different views.</p> + +<p>Anyhow, matrimonial confidences were not desirable in general company; +so Lady Semple adroitly got rid of the matron by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140">{140}</a></span> sending Dick to pay +her a little attention, and herself tried to ‘tackle’ auld Tam. She went +up to him as he moved on, until he stood before a picture of Dick Semple +when a boy on his pony, which the critic had contemplated a hundred +times.</p> + +<p>Lady Semple made the portrait the text of her remarks. ‘Do you see any +resemblance still, Mr. Drysdale? Oh, these boys and girls, how they run +away from us, and how hard it is for us fathers and mothers to be left +behind!’</p> + +<p>‘Mr. Dick is not going to run away from you, mem.’</p> + +<p>Tam gave the general observation an individual application with stupid +literalness.</p> + +<p>‘Oh no! not Dick—not yet awhile, I hope,’ said his mother hastily; +‘though he no longer thinks his father’s word law, and his mother’s +praise does not send him to bed as happy as a king—and it will come to +that soon—that other going away from us, and settling in life on his +own account, which seems to sunder so many ties. Yet<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141">{141}</a></span> what would you +have, Mr. Drysdale?’ continued her ladyship, unconsciously adopting the +same line of argument which Mrs. Drysdale had formerly used; ‘we cannot +stand in our children’s way. We cannot stay with them always, so why +should we seek to keep them with us? It is better—though it is not +altogether pleasant, is it?—that they should leave us. But where +everybody is agreed, where everything is more than suitable,’ murmured +Lady Semple, ‘where the whole arrangements are simply charming, and +there is so much to rejoice at, to be truly thankful for, I can only +wish you joy, my dear sir.’</p> + +<p>Tam looked up amazed, uncertain, when, as if they were passing before +him in a panorama, the groups around him caught his eye in quick +succession. His glance roamed from one to another, comprehensively, +conclusively. There was a twitch of his eyebrows, he compressed his lips +and thrust his chin a little forward in his eagerness to see what was +happening. His<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142">{142}</a></span> eyes were still a little dazzled, but they were no +longer incapable of receiving a vivid impression. He had shaken off the +brown study which had engrossed him; a new idea had come to him; he was +full of it and of how it might help him in his strait. But he only said +to Lady Semple:</p> + +<p>‘Not so fast, my leddy, mem—joy is not to be wished every day; we keep +it for great occasions.’</p> + +<p>‘But you own it is only a question of time. Oh, I must wish you much +joy, Mr. Drysdale!’ cried Lady Semple, enchanted to find herself, as she +supposed, correct in what she had conjectured, inclined to look upon the +contemplated result as accomplished, feeling as if she had made all +these marriages, and that each marriage was in its own way a feat to be +proud of. But she had the discretion not to urge Tam further, and to +leave him to digest in peace the meal she had provided for him.</p> + +<p>It was a meal, under the circumstances. Lieutenant Mackinnon and Clary! +Auld<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143">{143}</a></span> Tam remembered what he had thought of that connection before, but +now all the reasons against it were more than annulled. If he gave Clary +to young Mackinnon, with the fortune that he might yet hope to bestow, +supposing that he were left to grapple with, overcome, and outlive the +bad times, without the horrible necessity of having to give back +Drysdale Haugh to Mackinnon, with such fines and forfeits in addition as +would have shaken the prosperity of the best-established firm in +Glasgow—would it not compensate, not for inadvertently depriving him of +his mother’s property, which might well be forgiven, but for the +iniquity of retaining it, after he—auld Tam—knew full well it was none +of his? What would ‘the offisher lad’ have more than the girl he loved, +or ought to love, from his pretensions—and Clary was a fine lass, +‘handsome and edicate,’ a lass to act for herself and him too, a boon to +any man, far more than a match for the stick of a lad she had set her +fancy on?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144">{144}</a></span> And what would the like of young Mackinnon do with Drysdale +Haugh if he got it? Make a mess of it, as his father had done before +him; waste all that auld Tam had brought the place to; pull down +everything that he had built up, and be glad in the end to rid himself +of the inheritance, and sell it to some poor, ambitious chiel who could +put his hand to the plough like one whom auld Tam had known, as Gavin +Mackinnon had sold it.</p> + +<p>But Mackinnon and Clary were not the only couple. There was young Tam +hanging like a bee about a flower on that ‘braw, clever, ill-faured +lass,’ Athole Murray. Well, the Murrays were mixed up with the old +transaction, which loomed so largely in Tam’s mind that it blotted out +every other. The Murrays had to do with the selling of the works to Tam +Drysdale, in spite of the marriage contract which held them for the +issue of Margaret Craig. Tam had been hammering his brains all these +weeks, in vain, to determine how<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145">{145}</a></span> much or how little the Murrays were +involved, and what he had to answer for to them. Dr. Peter’s father, +Gavin Mackinnon’s partner, had been concerned with him in the sale, not +of the farm, which had belonged to Mrs. Mackinnon, but of the buildings +and plant used in the business, and the business itself, in which he was +a partner. Could Murray’s descendants also come on Tam for their share +in the profits of the dyeing and calico-printing since the sale? On the +other hand, could not Tam require from the Murrays their proportion of +the purchase-money, which they in their turn might claim from the +Mackinnons, since the Murrays also had been misled in the disposal of +the business?</p> + +<p>It was a complication of interests and injuries which Tam could not +unravel. The strong head, which had worked out so many calculations +without a throb, ached with the strain. But this he seemed to foresee +clearly, that if the matter were laid before Dr. Peter, that upright and +uncom<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146">{146}</a></span>promising soul would never rest till he had sifted it to the +bottom, and apportioned to every man his due, though in the process a +great business might be frittered away, and the capital which the +present crisis in trade ought to have appropriated to itself would only +be rescued from the wreck, to be parted into fractions of which nobody +would be the better except a set of lawyers. Dr. Peter would count any +loss in the name of strict integrity well lost.</p> + +<p>But if young Tam were ‘yoked’ with Athole Murray, might not that flea be +left to stick in the wall, without any further qualms of conscience? +Athole’s promotion to be the wife of as fine a fellow as ever lived, the +future head of a great business, would far outweigh any debatable +advantage the Murrays might gain—not that Tam imagined Dr. Peter greedy +of an advantage—by joining with young Mackinnon in compelling Tam to +make restitution. And Dr. Peter was a man and a father—his lassie’s +welfare must be some<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147">{147}</a></span>thing, must be a great deal to him; if it would not +altogether shut his truth-speaking mouth, it must render him more +lenient, more manageable, should the real state of the case ever come to +light.</p> + +<p>Then the marriage would make Tam’s lad happy, would atone to him for the +loss of his father; for it was one of the most bitter drops infused into +auld Tam’s full cup, in the tremendous change which had suddenly +darkened the broad sunshine of his prosperity, and rendered all his good +things worthless to him, to be forced to comprehend that, having found +his son, it was only to lose him again. There had been till recently +many business confidences between them, in which auld Tam had been proud +to think that his hands were clean, and that he had not to soil young +Tam’s by the contact. He had never dabbled in business ruses which could +not bear repetition to uncorrupted ears. But here was an affair which +could not stand being looked into, which must remain a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148">{148}</a></span> secret, and rise +up as a barrier between the father and his son for the term of their +lives. Very likely, if the story chanced to be approached—and what +secret was not approached sooner or later?—it would demand more +sacrifices from him of deliberate, habitual deception and brazen +falsehood to maintain the central lie. How could he look young Tam in +the face if it were so, when the father had begun already in his misery +to skulk away from one of the creatures he loved best in the world? And +he had a full-hearted, despairing conviction that young Tam, hot-headed +as he had been, independent as he was, would miss his father’s +friendship, little worth as it was—would want a perfect mate in a wife, +the desire of his heart, to make up to him for the snapping of the +primitive tie which, when it is of true metal, is of the consistency of +iron.</p> + +<p>Last of all, there was Tam Drysdale’s youngest child, his bonnie bairn +Eppie, with the splendid prospect of marrying<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149">{149}</a></span> Sir Hugo Willoughby, and +being removed far beyond the range of commercial storms, safely landed +among the aristocracy, in the august shadow of the Throne itself, as Tam +dreamed. If he could only hold out till that achievement was +accomplished, till little Eppie’s grand fortune was secured, and her +mother left to her care, for young Eppie would never see her mother +suffer, then he could be content to die—not in peace—this was not a +question of peace, but stubborn and silent. For what had auld Tam done +that he should demolish his name and fame and ruin his children to +enrich Gavin Mackinnon’s son? But he would enrich Gavin Mackinnon’s son, +and what more could be required of him?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150">{150}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV.</a><br><br> +<small>AULD TAM ‘FEY.’</small></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Auld Tam</span> came out of his shell in a fever of forced spirits, with a +restless desire to be doing something. It looked like a boisterous, +nearly wild gaiety, which caused his friends to stare and almost to +stand aghast. Tam would again get up extravagant entertainments for Sir +Hugo, who had by this time made himself so much at home at Drysdale +Hall, that it was a bore to him to be treated like a comparative +stranger, and ranked still as a guest.</p> + +<p>But Tam would have entertained the whole world in his present frame of +mind; anything was sufficient for an excuse to bring people together, to +establish general<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151">{151}</a></span> good-fellowship, to give ample opportunities of +meeting and settling matters, to individuals who hankered after such +encounters. The <i>raison d’être</i> was to force on the business in hand, +till what might have tarried and languished, been blighted by unexpected +contrary winds and perished in spite of its early promise, was brought +to a swift, irresistible conclusion.</p> + +<p>The master of Drysdale Hall was not satisfied with ordinary +entertainments. He cudgelled his brains and scoured the city and country +for something to show, something to visit, something to make merry over. +Auld Tam blossomed all at once into being the patron of half-a-dozen +societies, demanding dinners and suppers and balls from their munificent +patron, with Drysdale Hall for the headquarters of such members as were +pressed into the service of these feasts.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding plenty of evidence that Guy Horsburgh had long ago +enabled Sir Hugo Willoughby to ‘do’ Glasgow tho<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152">{152}</a></span>roughly, Tam was struck +with a sudden patriotic zeal lest any place should have been passed by. +He insisted on making up parties of a heterogeneous description, +including all and sundry, among them the oppressed Sir Hugo, to ‘do’ +Glasgow over again—engineers’ shops, sugar-refiners’ premises, +cotton-mills, without mercy—the whole at an unpropitious epoch. And the +sightseers were sure to return in a body to profit by the lavish +hospitality of Drysdale Hall, grown excessive to the exercising the soul +of the housekeeper and the wearying of the spirit of Mrs. Drysdale. +There might have been no such thing as bad trade, to judge from the +joviality and regardlessness of domestic expenses which auld Tam was +exhibiting.</p> + +<p>A launch was announced in one of the shipyards, to which Tam not only +had access, but was complimented by being asked to let one of his family +name the vessel. He consented readily, giving the honour to Clary, and +at the last moment<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153">{153}</a></span> bidding Mr. Mackinnon guide her arm, which was +steady enough in itself. But Eneas’s hand shook in the duty confided to +him, till Claribel told him reproachfully if she had not been firmer +than he was, he would have caused her to swerve in her aim, and dash the +bottle of wine against the stays instead of the side of the vessel, so +that the good ship <i>Claribel</i> must have gone forth unchristened and +luckless to meet her fate on the high seas.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam took to coveting more pictures for his gallery, and, losing +faith in his native discernment and considerable experience, sallied +forth, accompanied by a train of people, to consult on the merits of the +pictures for sale in a west-country gallery which had come to the +hammer. Very probably Tam was right that, after himself, Athole Murray +was the best judge among his motley followers. But he deferred to her +till her ears, which she could not believe, began to tingle, her teeth +were set on edge, and she was reduced to talking<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154">{154}</a></span> nonsense, when he +bought the worst picture in the lot on her jesting recommendation. +Immediately afterwards, in the hearing of everybody, he presented the +picture to young Tam as the ‘handsel’ to a new room which had been +fitted up for him. Why, young Tam gaped, even as Athole’s face fell, +grew white, and took an absolutely scared look.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam became as incapable of buying flowers as of purchasing pictures +unsupported by a circle of friends, while he refused to delegate the +commission to his head-gardener. Tam summoned the two Eppies, Athole +Murray, and Clary if she chose, to attend him to the West of Scotland +Autumn Flower Show, and signified graciously to the young men within +earshot of the arrangement that if they had an eye for ‘geranums’ and +‘gladioly’ they might look in at the show and repair to Ferguson’s for +luncheon afterwards. Sir Hugo at least looked in and praised the display +up to the skies, all because of a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155">{155}</a></span> certain Scotch rose which was +infinitely captivating to him. Young Eppie was struck by a new +pelargonium, of which not only did her father buy many specimens from +the nurseryman who was its fortunate introducer, but Sir Hugo was +convinced that it would be a great addition to the geraniums at +Willoughby Court, and that his mother would like the variety immensely. +He, too, bought largely, when the seller, apprised of the rank of his +customer and full of visions of his geraniums becoming the fashion in +the great world, paid the same compliment to Sir Hugo that the +shipbuilder had paid to auld Tam. The nurseryman offered the young +English baronet the name of the yet nameless flower. Sir Hugo hesitated, +and glanced from the one to the other with sparkling eyes and a word +trembling on the tip of his tongue. He was as modest as he was +ingenuous, and he was too deep in the toils to be quite free to pay +compliments. Still a flower, like a star, was a beautiful name<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156">{156}</a></span>sake, fit +for his Scotch rose, destined, perhaps, to hand down her name to a +floral immortality.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam saved the young fellow whatever delicate scruple he felt.</p> + +<p>‘What would you think, Sir Hugie,’ said the father insinuatingly, ‘to +give the name to young Eppie here? She was the first to call our +attention to the flower, so that the name is hers, in a sense.’</p> + +<p>‘A thousand thanks for the permission, Mr. Drysdale,’ cried Sir Hugo +eagerly. ‘Will you do me the honour to grant your consent, Miss Eppie?’ +speaking with soft emphasis, as if hers were the casting vote; ‘shall +this happy geranium be linked with you always?’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, no, no, Sir Hugo!’ protested Eppie, in a bashful tumult of mingled +pride and humility and instinctive shyness. ‘It is not an honour—I mean +my name is not an honour. Call the flower after your mother, Lady +Willoughby, and then it will be like “Lady Pollock,” which has such<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157">{157}</a></span> +bonnie leaves. That will be much better. “Eppie” is not a nice name for +a flower; it is not half fine enough. I dare say Lady Willoughby would +not like it.’</p> + +<p>‘Excuse me,’ said Sir Hugo, beaming, ‘you must let me be the judge. My +mother likes all that I like. I should be so pleased and proud to have +your name associated with anything at Willoughby Court. It is your +mother’s name also; speak for me, Mrs. Drysdale—you who are good to +everybody—that I may send a token of you to my home, and find it +flourishing there when I go back.’</p> + +<p>‘You’re ower kind, Sir Hughie,’ said gentle mother Eppie.</p> + +<p>At that plea of her mothers name, young Eppie gave in, not without a +sense of innocent importance and elation at knowing that there was +thenceforth a beautiful flower identified with her, that the ‘Eppie’ +variety of pelargonium, which would no doubt come into general favour,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158">{158}</a></span> +would remain as a remembrance of those happy days. For very happy were +those days to Eppie. She was young enough to enjoy with inexhaustible +zest, and without any anxiety, the constant excitement. She did not even +pause to ask what other delightful glamour of tender flattery, and +pleased approval from all around her, was thrown over the time—what it +all tended to, and what it all meant.</p> + +<p>Tam Drysdale in his rawest youth had never been so idly disposed, so +inclined to linger before setting out for Glasgow in the morning, to +return to Drysdale Hall in the middle of the day, to seek to infect +young Tam with his truancy by proposing to bring his son away from the +office or the works hours before the appointed time. It looked as if +auld Tam were fain to break through the daily routine of business, in +order to pursue pleasure at his age, and that he desired young Tam’s +countenance in the unbecoming proceeding. The head of the firm replaced +the spirit of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159">{159}</a></span> energy which he had displayed on the back of his +unsuspected misfortune by a kind of disgust at the work which had +formerly been as marrow to his bones. He accepted every poor excuse for +dalliance and distraction. He would even have revived croquet-practice, +since he was too heavy and stiff for tennis, if the young people had not +laughed and hung back from the slow, old-fashioned diversion, so that he +had reason to fear a deficiency of players.</p> + +<p>For no manœuvring mother was ever more crafty and persistent in carrying +out her drift. In two conspicuous instances it was so incomprehensible +to the onlooker, and so opposed to auld Tam’s former tactics, that it +baffled the shrewdest wit to penetrate it, and remained unsolved. If any +mortal had possessed the clue it would have been pitiable to see the +strait to which Tam Drysdale was reduced to effect a compromise between +honour and dishonour.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160">{160}</a></span></p> + +<p>Auld Tam’s spasmodic attempts at gaiety, his uncouth gambols, culminated +in a great ‘treat’ or feast to his workpeople at Drysdale Haugh—to +which everybody he knew was invited, and for which he spared no +preparations. At his instigation the two Eppies were engaged for a whole +day superintending the floral decorations of the room in which Dr. Peter +had given his lecture. And the giver of the entertainment went himself +and fetched Athole Murray (one of his pattern-designers!)—reluctant, +annoyed, with a half-comical, half-hurt and angry sense that though the +younger Eppie was glad to see her, the elder was affronted by her +presence, and went as near to snubbing her as it was possible for either +of the Eppies to snub any human being. The result was that Athole was +prompted to be more merciless in her intolerance of young Tam, more +savage—as even a kind woman can be savage—in her raillery where he was +concerned, than she had shown<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161">{161}</a></span> herself for many a day, and that the +revenge was likely to be taken under his mother’s indignant, horrified +eyes.</p> + +<p>There were games, dancing, and a sumptuous supper for Tam’s satellites. +He had commanded his wife and daughters to appear in full dress, Eppie +in her velvet and diamonds, Claribel in her ivory tinted silk and coral, +and sweet young Eppie in the very soft pink and silver plumage which +Clary had imagined for her. She wore, with great glee, the prettiest +little watch in Muirhead’s, which her father had given her on her +birthday. She was the real queen of the evening, and she was admired +beyond measure by the worthy working men and women who had seen her grow +up at their side, and knew her true, kind heart. Whatever grudge they +might be tempted to bear the other fine folk, whatever sly joke to crack +at auld Tam’s expense, at the very moment he was giving them so grand a +ploy, they had nothing but admiration and tenderness for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162">{162}</a></span> Eppie in her +bloom. The young girls in white muslin, with lockets and ear-rings hired +from the village jeweller for the occasion, followed her about and +watched her half the evening. Endless inquiries were made after Miss +Eppie’s grand young English ‘laud;’ he was reported a lord at least, and +all the interest that could be spared from her was lavished on him. The +couple far eclipsed Miss Drysdale and ‘Captain Mackinnon’ in the popular +regard, though the last, as they were reckoned another pair of lovers, +awoke their share of interest.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam himself was in irreproachable black. Young Tam followed suit, +defying the scornful eyes in the face of the vixen whom Dr. Peter had +unwittingly reared. Yet Athole had the good taste not to wound the +susceptibilities of her handmaid Jeannie by donning less festive apparel +than was implied in a black tulle gown so quaintly and prettily trimmed +by means of bands of silk, painted with tufts of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163">{163}</a></span> buttercups, that if it +was not a costly, it was certainly a becoming costume.</p> + +<p>Sir Hugo would have come in a court suit if he had possessed one, and it +would have given satisfaction in the right quarter. It was Guy Horsburgh +who betrayed his friend into the solecism of arriving in the +demi-toilette of a velvet morning-coat. But Tam Drysdale would have +condoned any coat on ‘Sir Hugie’s’ back, while young Eppie secretly +thought him like a prince, and many of the rustic spectators were fully +convinced that velvet coats were the specialty of English baronets and +their friends.</p> + +<p>There was a little difficulty as to who was to open the ball. It ought +to have been Mrs. Drysdale and Sir Hugo, or Mrs. Drysdale with the +oldest dyer in her husband’s employment, followed by auld Tam either +with Lady Semple or the rosy-cheeked granddaughter of his first +bleacher. But neither of these arrangements met Tam’s views. Besides, +Mrs. Drysdale was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164">{164}</a></span> timid about her steps, whether, on the one hand, she +could accommodate them to those of ‘Sir Hughie,’ friendly as he had +shown himself—to the extent of seeming to aspire to be her +son-in-law—or whether, on the other, she could contrive to keep pace +with Lowrie Leech, who was dead-lame.</p> + +<p>There was some apprehension, amongst those interested in the proceedings +of the couple, that auld Tam would open the ball himself, dancing with +his wife; but if he had ever entertained the idea he thought better of +it. He made a speech instead, and deputed the ceremony to a younger +couple.</p> + +<p>‘My friends,’ he said, with a flourish of his white, soft, but powerful +hand, ‘me and my wife are delighted to see you all here, and wish you a +happy nicht. We are getting owre auld, as some of you may find +yourselves, to lead either game or dance. When the band strikes up our +auldest dochter will stand for her mither,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165">{165}</a></span> and there’s a gentleman +here, whose name may be known to a wheen of you, that will do me the +favour to lift her. Most of you aulder folk will mind that before I was +maister here, Drysdale Haugh belonged to Mr. Mackinnon in richt of his +wife. All here who mind were their servants aince on a day, and it is +fit that the former maister and mistress of the place, who I make no +doubt did their best for their folk in their time, should be remembered +and represented on an occasion like this. Lieutenant Mackinnon, sir, +I’ll thank you to lead out my dochter and open the ball.’</p> + +<p>The workpeople, who ‘ruffed,’ or beat with their feet, their applause, +might accept Tam’s speech in all sincerity, and regard this bringing +forward of Guy Mackinnon’s son as a generous, kindly deed, worthy of +auld Tam; but his nearest and dearest trembled for him.</p> + +<p>‘Are there ony fivvers that take the head going about?’ the elder Eppie +asked Dr. Peter, with a shiver; while the younger<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166">{166}</a></span> Eppie turned to Sir +Hugo, in their growing intimacy, with innocent perplexity: ‘It is funny +of father to make Mr. Mackinnon open the ball with Clary. I used to be +sure that father did not like Mr. Mackinnon, and now to send him to +dance with Clary!’</p> + +<p>‘It is because your father has compassion upon us young fellows,’ said +Sir Hugo promptly; ‘and if he had known how I had set my heart on having +this first dance which you are going to give to that urchin—— ’</p> + +<p>‘Little Willie Finlay, Sir Hugo,’ Eppie interrupted. ‘But I was bound to +dance with Willie, for he is as deaf as a horn, though he is fond to +dance, and he needs a partner that will help him through the figures. +Besides, Clary and me have to dance with all our men in turn, which will +take us half the night,’ added Eppie a little mischievously. ‘If you do +not want to sit still for a couple of hours you had better let me +introduce you to some of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167">{167}</a></span> girls who look so nice; to Willie’s sister +Mary, or to Sibbie Howden, or Camellia Duff.’</p> + +<p>The couple opening the ball by commission were confounded—even Claribel +was staggered. ‘I ought to be well acquainted with my own father,’ she +said, with an uneasy laugh, ‘but till lately I never suspected him +either of dry humour or of diabolical malice.’</p> + +<p>‘Can he be giving in without a fight?’ faltered Eneas. ‘It has looked of +late like his yielding without so much as a protest. He has not only +been perfectly civil, he has been positively kind—asking me to come +over with Semple, including me in all his invitations, and now +distinguishing me like this. Does he care so much for you, Claribel, +that he will swallow me and my poverty rather than cross you?’</p> + +<p>Clary shook her head. ‘My father has been a fighting man all his life, +more than you have been. He has welcomed trials of strength and skill. +Why should he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168">{168}</a></span> shun a fight? He likes me, of course; he likes me so well +as to let me have my own way, if I have set my heart upon it, because he +is both reasonable and kind—I have always counted on that. But as to +his weakly abetting me in the pursuit of an object which he does not +believe to be for my good—remember he does not know you so well as I +do—I suspect he would rather see me in my coffin. He must be giving us +line, as you fishers say, and laughing at us, though I would not have +expected it from him.’</p> + +<p>Mrs. Drysdale had a second grievance in the course of the evening, which +she took so much to heart that she could not keep it from Tam. It was a +repetition of a former offence of which she had complained to him at the +time; and she thought that if she could thoroughly rouse him to the +aggravated nature of the redoubled injury, it might help to restore the +balance of mind which he had so strangely lost.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169">{169}</a></span></p> + +<p>‘Tam,’ she said, drawing her husband aside into a bower of laurels, ‘I +can stand this no longer. What do you think I have seen and heard? That +gipsy of Dr. Peter’s—that I should call her such a name!—taking off +young Tam to his face, as if he were the smallest graith in the room, +and putting him off from dancing till it is her pleasure; and the laddie +standing it like a cawf. Oh! I could give him a dirl in the lug [box in +the ear] mysel’; and I could bid her bide awa’ from ony place I’m in, +till she can behave herself as becomes a lassie like her, with due +consideration for her betters. She’s weel enough, though she’s no +bonnie; but she’s not fit to be named in the same breath with my Tam, +who is bewitched, I think.’</p> + +<p>‘Say you so!’ answered auld Tam a little abruptly; then he pulled +himself together, asserted he must see to it, and before she could stop +him, crossed the room to where Athole Murray was sitting fluttering a +<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170">{170}</a></span>fan—on which she had painted a yellow-hammer in ‘the de’il’s livery’ +of sulphur-yellow and black, which corresponded with the black tulle and +buttercups of her gown.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, mercy me! what have I done?’ cried poor Mrs. Eppie, in dire dismay. +‘If he speaks to her to quarrel her, though she weel deserves a hurry +[scold], and it come to young Tam’s ears, he’ll neither be to haud nor +bind. My laddie will never speak to his mither again. That lassie has +driven him demented.’</p> + +<p>But auld Tam addressed Athole with perfect politeness, even with an +undercurrent of the special regard which he had always felt for her. ‘I +hope you’re enjoying yoursel’, Miss Murray, mem?’</p> + +<p>‘Very much, thank you, Mr. Drysdale,’ replied Athole, with perhaps a +suspicion of exaggerated emphasis, but with great goodwill, for, as she +had said, she was fond of auld Tam—the two suited each other +wonderfully. She brightened up at his approach, with a sense of security +and confidence. He would not tease or misunder<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171">{171}</a></span>stand her. To encourage +young Tam in his folly would be the last thing he would think of doing. +At the same time he, auld Tam, could let his son take care of himself. +Her father’s friend would not sacrifice her to young Tam’s dignity. He +would be honest and friendly, giving her the credit of doing her best in +a difficulty—how great and sore none save herself knew.</p> + +<p>‘I’m glad to hear you’re happy,’ Tam assured his guest with almost +wistful earnestness. ‘I want everybody to be happy the nicht. A treat +means a rarity, and as one never kens whether it can be given twice by +the same hand, I would fain do the thing thoroughly when I’ve the +chance. I hope all the arrangements are to your mind?’</p> + +<p>‘Nothing could be better,’ Athole said quickly—she was not quite so +certain as she had been of her safety with auld Tam. His speech had +already recalled to her mind that he had not been like himself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172">{172}</a></span> lately. +He was one of nature’s gentlemen in the main, as she had always +known—courteous and kind to his old friend’s daughter; but he was more +at this moment, he was pointedly, painfully deferential, as he had been +at the picture sale. She did not like his manner. She could not tell +what to make of it. ‘I believe everybody is very happy,’ she added +vaguely; ‘you may have the satisfaction of thinking that you have given +a great deal of harmless pleasure to a number of people.’</p> + +<p>‘I have heard there are exceptions,’ he said dubiously. ‘I’ve a notion +I’ve seen ae discontented face, and another that is petted, gin it be +not peevish. Will you forgive an auld man—auld enough to be your +father—your father’s friend for that matter, for taking a liberty? What +ails you at dancing with young Tam? If you’re so happy yoursel’, can you +not spare a crumb to a poor beggar who has long been prigging [praying] +for grace, this nicht aboon a’ nichts, when everybod<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173">{173}</a></span>y’s heart is or +should be as licht as his heels? Is it consistent with a gracious +leddy’s happiness to be glad when a gentleman suffers? or are you +behaving on principle, Miss Murray, mem? I ken I’ve no richt to speer +[ask]; but you and me have been gude friends—have we no?’</p> + +<p>Athole stared and grew red and pale again in an instant. She flicked her +dress with her fan bearing the bird that wears the de’il’s livery. +‘There is no poor beggar here,’ she said sharply; ‘you know that as well +as I. If there were, it might be different. But, indeed, you have no +right to say anything, though you are the owner of this place and the +giver of this ball, though you employ me along with your workpeople. +No,’ she prevented a vehement protest, ‘I do not mean for a moment that +you have not been everything that is good and kind to me; but I hope I +too know how to behave civilly—you see you have touched me on a sore +point.’ She gave a faint smile. ‘Yet—well, I did not expect<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174">{174}</a></span> it from +you. I wonder what Mrs. Drysdale would say? she knows better, after all. +How would you judge of your wish that everybody should be +happy—supposing I complied with it, and supposing you wasted a thought +upon it to-morrow morning?’ she ended bitterly.</p> + +<p>For Athole had made the great mistake of imagining that auld Tam was so +far left to himself as to desire she should gratify young Tam’s +inclinations for the moment, at the expense of her pride and +consistency; that she should permit attentions of which nothing could +come, in order to increase the hilarity of the evening, at least where +one member of the party was concerned.</p> + +<p>To her amazement and distress, in place of leaving her or losing his +temper, or even begging her pardon, auld Tam began to plead passionately +on behalf of his son. ‘I’ve no richt to speak—less than none. I’m weel +aware of it,’ he said, in agitation which he could not conceal. ‘Very +likely he would be the first to blame me for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175">{175}</a></span> advocating his cause—and +why should he need an advocate with a leddy when he seeks her favours? +He’s a brawer man than ever his father was, and women like strapping +chiels. He’s been reared a gentleman, and he’s nearer the real article +than mony a lord. He is not saft or gay of speech—he’s looking dour and +dowff [stubborn and sad] enough at this minute when ilka other face is +gay. But whose fault is that, I should like to know? It’s ill for a lad +to thole a lass’s scorn, to be slichted when he has looted [bent], proud +as he may be, to his knee. He’s pairtner in a fine business, and he’s +making a grander business-man than I could ever have dreamt. His heart +is in the richt place, and is as sound as a bell. What would you have +mair?’ demanded auld Tam, with rising indignation. ‘Do you want his +mither as well as his father to speak up for him? But is that like a +reasonable leddy? My Eppie is as good a soul as ever breathed, but she’s +his mither,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176">{176}</a></span> and so her ain bird is whitest among the craws; no other +bird that he can choose will ever come nigh him for whiteness in her +een. It’s human nature, that; it’s mither’s nature. I thocht you would +have understood and made allowance for ‘t, that it is useless to fecht +against it. But I’ll be bound she’ll bear no spite, and come round as +fast as ever woman came round, if no other man stand in the way—I’ve +never heard tell of any other, and you could gar my Tam’s heart lowp +[leap] with a kind word or look, and take the wind when it blows in your +barn-door.’</p> + +<p>She got up and left him in the middle of his pleadings. She could stand +no more of such raving. She found her father and clung to him, +addressing half-a-dozen arguments to him in favour of going home early. +As she stood awaiting his compliance with her request, she put it to +him:</p> + +<p>‘Father, suppose a man does the very reverse of what you have been +accustomed to see him do, and flies in the face of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177">{177}</a></span> natural prejudices +without the smallest reason, what would you think?’</p> + +<p>‘I can hardly tell, unless I were to know the man,’ said canny Dr. +Peter; ‘but folk would have said lang syne that he was “fey.”<span class="lftspc">’</span></p> + +<p>‘I am sorry,’ said Athole, in a low, grave tone.</p> + +<p>‘If you mean auld Tam, as I take it you do,’ said her father, in the +same key, ‘so am I—sick and sorry. There’s the devil to pay there, or I +am much mistaken. I never thought to have witnessed the signs in this +quarter. What is it? Over-trade, bad times, loss of credit, a heap of +debt, an expensive style of living which cannot be altered without +arousing suspicion? The result is the same—wild to get his daughters +off his hands at a moment’s notice, even though he can find no better +protector for Clary than the penniless officer, Gavin Mackinnon’s son, +whom auld Tam was wont to despise. As for Sir Hugo, he would have been a +big fish in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178">{178}</a></span> the smoothest water, but one might have hoped that Tam +Drysdale was above angling for it. Young Tam’s looking put about, so +that you need not have snapped at him, Athole. I suppose it is a bad +custom you have fallen into. Well, since we can do no good, we had +better keep out of the mess, for mess it will be.’</p> + +<p>‘I don’t know what it all means,’ said Athole, knitting her brows, +‘unless that auld Tam’s fey.’</p> + +<p>Auld Tam brought forward Eneas Mackinnon a second time before the +evening was over. When Tam’s health was drunk, in returning thanks, he +begged to couple them with the name of Lieutenant Mackinnon, the son of +the former proprietor of Drysdale Haugh.</p> + +<p>The toast sounded to many people, as possibly auld Tam intended it +should, tantamount to announcing Claribel’s engagement, and introducing +young Mackinnon in the character of a member of the family.</p> + +<p>Eneas muttered his gratitude in a couple<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179">{179}</a></span> of words. Some among the +audience thought it was a pity the response could not have been made by +his future partner in life, who would have been quite equal to +delivering a calm, well-bred, suitable little speech. She must coach her +bridegroom in anticipation of the wedding breakfast.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180">{180}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV.</a><br><br> +<small>SIR HUGO LAYS HIMSELF AND WILLOUGHBY COURT AT YOUNG EPPIE’S FEET.</small></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Guy Horsburgh</span> threw up his last futile attempt to restrain Sir Hugo, to +keep him back from a declaration of his sentiments before he had got +time to cool, or before any aristocratic friend or batch of friends +could interfere in his interests. Sir Hugo was of age; he was his own +master, he could go his own way, as he showed every inclination to do. +For the rest, Lady Willoughby must see to it, though Guy had first +brought her son to Glasgow.</p> + +<p>After all, the result was not so deplorable or so unexampled as it might +have been. Sir Hugo was going to ally himself with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181">{181}</a></span> trade; but so had +earls and marquises before him. He was on the eve of proposing to marry +one of the loveliest, sweetest girls in the West of Scotland, with a +large fortune, if auld Tam cleared himself, as he certainly would, from +the reverses of bad times. Sir Hugo might go farther and fare worse. +Lady Willoughby might have an infinitely less satisfactory +daughter-in-law thrust upon her. The whole Willoughby race might have +reason to bless the day which had sent Sir Hugo to woo and win a fair +and good Glasgow heiress.</p> + +<p>Unquestionably Sir Hugo thought so. He was in the seventh heaven of +young love—worthy as it was ardent, unlikely to be balked, and yet not +so certain of its crowning success as to lack the stimulus of doubt and +difficulty, the excitement of the chase. Would young Eppie Drysdale quit +her country and her people, leave father and mother—though it was in +the Bible that it could and should be done—for him, to go where he +went, to dwell where he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182">{182}</a></span> dwelt, to make his people, with their different +ways, her people and her ways, till nothing but death should part her +and him?</p> + +<p>The gossips of St. Mungo had little doubt of the answer. They had lately +wavered a little in their long-standing conviction of auld Tam’s luck. +He was known to be ‘bitten’ by more than one of the unfortunate traders +who were succumbing on all sides to the ebb of the tide of trade. It was +generally rumoured that his only son and elder daughter were about to +make inferior matches. But the news of the probable engagement of Tam’s +younger daughter—a mere schoolgirl—to a grand young English baronet, +with a ‘Court’ to take her to, quite restored the balance of her +father’s reputation for good fortune. Tam Drysdale knew what he was +about, and he would keep at the top of the tree in spite of +contradictions such as fell to the lot of the most prosperous of men. +Young Eppie Drysdale ‘Lady Willoughby of Wil<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183">{183}</a></span>loughby Court!’ Auld Tam +might have been the Lord Provost and his daughter not fared so well.</p> + +<p>That was the summer of life for some of the family at Drysdale Hall, +though they were also the days in which little Eppie awoke to find +herself a woman, to relinquish reluctantly her bright care-free +girlhood, to realize her lot of merging her life in that of another, and +being ready to sacrifice herself for him. If ever there were idyls +enacted in modern times, that suit of Sir Hugo’s, under the blatant +auspices of trade, was one of them. He was so young, generous, and +devoted; she was so simple and so sweet, so unworldly in her coming +promotion, so unmoved by it, so genuinely humble, still so tenderly +attached to all that she was nevertheless preparing to give up. Her +nature, in place of being hardened and tarnished by the gain which came +to her—as it must have come to every true woman in her +circumstances—tempered by loss, was deepened and purified. All<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184">{184}</a></span> who had +eyes to see stood still to look on and be moved by the domestic drama, +when Eppie clung closer than ever to her father and mother, and spent +upon them her most winsome wiles at the very time that she was singing +‘My love she’s but a lassie yet,’ and ‘What ails this heart o’ mine?’ +every evening to Sir Hugo, hanging entranced upon her words. She did not +so much as forget once poor deaf little Willie Finlay, or Beardie, or +Whitebreeks, when the time came that Sir Hugo sought, with many excuses +and apologies, almost to live at Drysdale Hall, when he was a miserably +restless and discontented fellow if he was half a day out of the +presence of its younger daughter in which he basked, when he haunted her +and all connected with her like an exacting ghost. If he could not quite +say of her that he</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘Gat her down by yonder knowe,<br></span> +<span class="i1">Smiling on a broomy knowe,<br></span> +<span class="i1">Herding ae wee lamb and ewe,<br></span> +<span class="i3">For her puir mammy;’<br></span> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185">{185}</a></span></div></div> +</div> + +<p class="nind">he could aver that he found her continually going on some errand of +filial affection or human kindness. He called himself thrice blessed +when she suffered him to meet her father with her, in her company to +wait upon her mother, to do young Tam’s bidding, to find something Clary +wanted, to choose a picture-book for Willie Finlay, to take a warm +jacket to Willie’s consumptive cousin Maggie, to carry bones to Beardie +and knobs of sugar to Whitebreeks.</p> + +<p>When Sir Hugo thought of Eppie’s relations to her homely father and +mother, he contrasted them with what he had read, but declined manfully +to believe, of ‘girls of the period.’ These daughters at ease were said +to despise, in place of honouring, their fathers and mothers; to +blush—not alone for the faults of the girls’ progenitors, but for +harmless peculiarities and rusticities which ought to have been +sacred—might even have been dear—to the children of the perpetrators. +Such girls were freely represented as rebelling against the lawful +autho<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186">{186}</a></span>rity of their parents, and hating them with a hideous unnatural +hatred. Sir Hugo was too good a fellow, too sensible and manly, to have +much faith in the general existence of these unwomanly young women, and +undisciplined, undutiful heroines. But he recalled what he had seen of a +very different order of girls living under the same roof with their +fathers and mothers, yet practically apart from them, divided from them +by a host of half-real, half-artificial obligations, trained to separate +interests, occupations, and goals. Then his heart grew full, and he +thanked God fervently that he had been shown another description of +girl, another description of daughter—how true, how tender! one whom he +could give to his own good mother, and know that he was rewarding her +for all her care and affection where he was concerned, by bestowing on +her—whether she knew it at first, or not, she would live to know +it—the best of children.</p> + +<p>It was as if the world had grown young<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187">{187}</a></span> again this autumn at Drysdale +Hall, and many who got a glimpse of scenes enacted in Paradise were +touched by them, and became for the moment softened men and women. It +was not only auld Tam and his Eppie who were thus affected—young Tam, +with his dash of cynicism in his very philanthropy and his Radical +views, did not accuse Sir Hugo of narrow arrogance and assumption, but +was indulgent to him. Even young Tam was susceptible, shame-facedly, of +a good deal of wondering half-humorous gratification at the idea of his +sister, wild little Eppie, becoming Lady Willoughby. He secretly read up +the English county history, which expatiated on the dignity and local +benefactions of the Willoughbys, and on the antiquarian and +architectural glories of the Lincolnshire Court. Insensibly Tam’s +bearing altered a little towards his young sister. It was not only +softer, with a lurking, wistful affection in anticipation of losing +her—a creature so deservedly dear to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188">{188}</a></span> family; it had a certain +instinctive respect for the girl who was so soon to achieve matronly +honours, who had made a slave of a fellow with wit and independence in +his own line, like Sir Hugo, so that he stooped from his class and +defied their censure, in seeking a city girl for the future mistress of +his home.</p> + +<p>And all the time she to whom this subtle tribute was paid thought hardly +at all, unless it were with fear and trembling, of rank such as Sir Hugo +owned, and social position like that to which he would raise her.</p> + +<p>Claribel had foreseen young Eppie’s conquest from the beginning, and +accepted it fully. Now, in the engrossment of her own very different +engagement to Eneas Mackinnon, tacitly allowed by her father, without a +word spoken, Clary not only welcomed her sister’s higher fortunes—she +found leisure and energy to try to prepare Eppie for them. It was not by +polishing her manners, for, since these had their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189">{189}</a></span> share in captivating +Sir Hugo, Clary wisely left off attempting to improve upon them, +deciding that they had their charm for ancient gentility. It was in +gently opening Eppie’s eyes to what the future held for her, and +accustoming her to the change which awaited her.</p> + +<p>Claribel had taken great pleasure in presiding over Eppie’s toilet +lately, and in insisting that her particular style and taste should have +every advantage which high art and accomplished modistes could give +them.</p> + +<p>‘I don’t wish you to be anything save yourself, Eppie dear,’ said Clary. +‘I do not know that you could be greatly improved, and I am certain I +should never be forgiven if I destroyed your identity. Somebody’s +indignation would pursue me for the rest of my days. But there are +various kinds of simplicity, and you ought to deal in the most perfect +kind, which unites nature and art. You are bound to use the allowance +that my father makes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190">{190}</a></span> to each of us, which, as you have just grown up, +you have entered upon so lately, you little chit. But to use it as the +giver intended is not to spend the greater part of it in presents to him +and my mother, which you know they do not require, though they may be +pleased by your thinking of them in that way, and in gifts to servants +and children and poor people. You ought to learn to have your dress, +your <i>tout ensemble</i>, according to your station, or harm will come of +it. That reminds me, when I came out I got my choice of any set of +jewels short of diamonds, like mother’s, that I preferred, and I took +corals. What will you have? Not topazes—they are pink, but you must not +be all pink. I should have opals if I were you, Eppie; they suit any +colour, and they would not be too much for you.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh! don’t speak about it, Clary,’ cried Eppie, half-radiant, +half-shrinking. ‘I think father has a good deal to do with his money +this year. I am sure he looks duller than<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191">{191}</a></span> he used to look. I can +scarcely ever get him to make fun and laugh, as I once could-I heard +Tam and Dr. Peter speaking of bad trade.’</p> + +<p>‘What has a baby like you to do with bad trade?’ demanded Claribel +incredulously. ‘Do you think what we spend makes any difference to our +father? What the whole house spends is a drop in the ocean of his +business outlay. It would be another thing if one of us married a poor +man, a man with a small settled income, which could never become much +larger—like an officer’s pay,’ added Clary, with a meaning smile; ‘then +that foolish woman must cut her gown according to her cloth.’</p> + +<p>‘And wouldn’t she be happy to do it if it were for her man’s sake!’ +cried Eppie, blushing very red and taking Clary aback by a sudden hug, +which hid Eppie’s blushes.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, my gown, Eppie!’ protested Clary.</p> + +<p>‘What about your gown?’ replied Eppie recklessly, returning to the main +point. ‘Oh,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192">{192}</a></span> I like you for it, Clary; and I am so glad to see that +father is beginning to take to the Lieutenant.’</p> + +<p>‘Is he? I am not sure,’ said Claribel, with unwonted indecision. ‘My +father has puzzled me lately. All the same, child, I am very thankful +that you are not going to follow my example. One disinterested goose is +enough in a family. I did not mean to be that goose, but Fate and Eneas +Mackinnon have been too strong for me. Fancy poor dear Eneas being too +strong for anybody! But there are those who overcome by lack of +strength—if passive endurance is lack of strength. I am strong enough +in the common, vulgar way, for both: I believe I have been wasted in the +family for want of somebody to take care of, you are all so well off and +independent. I first found my mission when the old Miss Mackinnons +suffered me to look after them. But don’t let us forget what we are +talking about—you must have your opals, Eppie.’</p> + +<p>‘They are things that should belong to a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193">{193}</a></span> grand lady. It would fike me +to take care of them.’</p> + +<p>‘But you are going to be a grand lady, little woman; and if you are not +able to keep opals, what are you to do with diamonds? I have no doubt +old Lady Willoughby has family diamonds which will pass to her son’s +wife.’</p> + +<p>‘She is not old,’ cried Eppie, staunch as ever in maintaining the +earthly immortality of her seniors. ‘He says he remembers her looking so +young and pretty, in spite of her widow’s cap. She was not twenty-three +when his father died,’ explained Eppie shyly and softly. ‘She will wear +her diamonds as long as she lives—who has such a good right? who would +take them from her?—and she will leave them to whom she likes. I’m sure +he would say so. But oh, it is all nonsense!’ broke off Eppie, in +trepidation. ‘I wish you would not speak about it, Clary. He has never +speered me; and do you think I could bear to go away from father and +mother and all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194">{194}</a></span> of you at Drysdale Hall, where I’ve been so happy? It +would just kill me.’</p> + +<p>‘You would come alive again and live for him,’ said Claribel, with +smiling faith. ‘He has not asked you in so many words to be his wife. +Perhaps as you are so young, though he is young himself, he may choose +to put the question to my father first. But I know he has talked to you +by the hour of his home, and how you would like it, and what you would +do there. As he is a gentleman and not an adventurer, true and not +false, you will have it in your power to be the mistress of Willoughby +Court, and you will not send him away—such a nice fellow as he +is—disconsolate. I wonder if you will condescend to receive a poor +officer and his wife some day at your fine place, Eppie?’</p> + +<p>The suggestion was too much for Eppie in the highly-wrought state of her +feelings. What was she, that she should ever live to patronize Clary and +the Lieutenant? The bare idea smote her with affront and dis<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195">{195}</a></span>tress, so +that she burst into hysterical tears, and had to be coaxed and scolded +back into composure.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam and his Eppie were stirred to the very depths of their natures, +when the destiny of their darling was wrought out before their eyes. +Many a time Mrs. Drysdale, even while her motherly eyes glistened with +pride and joy, withdrew to ‘greet’ (weep) in secret over the +relinquishment of her child. To think that little Eppie, who had always +been as fondly faithful to her earliest ties as when she was a toddling +child, who had never been three months absent from home, or a week away +from her father and mother since she was born, should</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘Aye be awa’,’<br></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p class="nind">and in the very greatness of her marriage parted from them by barriers +to which the Cheviots and the Tweed were nothing; to remember that if +she had waited for some years, and married in an ordinary fashion a +moderately thriving manufacturer<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196">{196}</a></span> or merchant in her father’s circle, +she might have been settled near Drysdale Hall—she might have seen her +whole family two or three times a week as a matter of course—these +considerations ought to have been a cure for ambition. But the mother +was equal to the offering up of her very heart’s blood for the object of +her love. Being sure of ‘Sir Hughie,’ as Mrs. Drysdale believed herself, +that he was a fine lad who would be good to young Eppie, the mother +would not stand as an obstacle in the daughter’s path. She would be +ready when the time came to do more than cut off a right hand and pluck +out a right eye. So that little Eppie might be a grand lady, loved and +honoured in a higher sphere, then big Eppie, who had borne her and +delighted in her young charms, would be content with the crumbs which +fell from the rich man’s table, with passing glimpses of her bairn, and +more or less distant reports of her dignity and happiness.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam was not so sure either of his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197">{197}</a></span> child or of himself. Young Eppie +would be safe, though there should be a storm and downfall—that was one +good thing which had tempted him. But could he endure to think that she +would go where she might be looked down on, instead of made much +of—scorned in place of cherished? Her little rustic ways, with love +lying at their root, though ‘Sir Hugie’ had not minded them, or had gone +so far as to be captivated by them, for a change, in these his red-hot +love days, might look different in his eyes when the ways had lost their +novelty, and marriage had cooled his passion and restored his judgment. +Trifles like these sometimes made mischief between man and wife.</p> + +<p>Tam Drysdale could ill stand the thought of his innocent, loving lassie +being mortified and ‘lichtlied’ (slighted). He would come bound that she +would never ‘lichtly’ her mother and him in her turn—it was not in her +constant, gentle heart. But she might be taught to ‘think shame’ for +those who<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198">{198}</a></span> had been first with her—whom, until now, in her +guilelessness and goodness, she had well-nigh worshipped.</p> + +<p>That was a prospect which auld Tam had difficulty in facing. He did not +doubt ‘Sir Hugie’ in so far as that he meant well and was an honourable +and kindly-disposed young gentleman. But Tam Drysdale had heard that +like should mate with like, and he could not pretend to say that his +bairn—bonnie and dear as she was to him—ought to be reckoned a fit +match for a real gentleman—a titled gentleman of solid acres and long +descent. And if in the time to come ‘Sir Hugie’ should be further +disappointed in what he might conceive he had a right to expect—should +have reason to say that he had not been candidly and honestly dealt +with—could auld Tam be certain that the disappointment and the offence +would not be visited on a blameless victim? The retaliation might not be +open, but indirect and half unconscious, partly concealed from the very +person who was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199">{199}</a></span> guilty of the meanness of using such weapons, so as to +be less easy to challenge and denounce; but the undeserved punishment +would fall on the tender heart, already writhing under a sense of the +failure of those it had once exalted.</p> + +<p>To Tam’s other heavy troubles was added yet this one more grave +perplexity, whether in promoting young Eppie’s great marriage he was not +really wronging her, his pet lamb, worst of all, and cruelly risking her +best chance of happiness.</p> + +<p>When all else was said, a quivering note of interrogation was added to +what went before—Had the business not gone too far to be stopped? Was +it possible for him still to draw back? Poor auld Tam! he was pulled two +ways and torn in different directions, till he hovered on the verge of +distraction.</p> + +<p>Little wonder that Tam Drysdale, towards the end of Sir Hugo’s +courtship, looked, as often as not, heavy and displeased on what was +evidently approaching its<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200">{200}</a></span> legitimate conclusion. He caused the +bystanders to exclaim in a high key among themselves—What would the man +be at?—was there no end to his ambition? Did he seek dukes for his +daughters? or was it a mere feint of indifference and scanty approval, +unworthy of auld Tam’s character for sincerity?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201">{201}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI.</a><br><br> +<small>THE SEAL TO SIR HUGO’S SUIT.</small></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">The</span> prettiest episode of Sir Hugo’s wooing occurred when Lady Semple +suddenly struck out the bright idea of bringing down Lady Willoughby to +pay her a visit and judge for herself, when it was too late, of her +son’s choice.</p> + +<p>Far from Sir Hugo’s offering any objection—as if he were ashamed of +what he was about, or had the slightest conception that his feelings +might undergo a change, or that anybody, even his mother, to whom he was +so strongly attached, had the smallest right to interfere with him in +his choice of a wife—he was charmed with the opportunity of introducing +the Drysdales,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202">{202}</a></span> especially Eppie, to Lady Willoughby; and at the same +time, though he was his own master, and was not very down-hearted about +winning the day, he caught at the chance of securing his mother’s potent +voice on the side of his suit.</p> + +<p>Sir Hugo had so talked himself into the belief of the transcendent +merits of the merchant princes of St. Mungo’s, he had so swallowed +wholesale the peculiarities of the Drysdale household, and then, with +his strong young mental and moral digestion, dismissed them without any +great effort, that he had for the moment ceased to be conscious of their +existence. He was only aware of a long list of commercial virtues, and +that young Eppie was the loveliest, most artless, most divine of mortal +maidens.</p> + +<p>Sir Hugo met his mother unembarrassed and without apprehension—rather +triumphant in having done so well by himself and her. She was full of +pain at the thought of losing her son so soon, as it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203">{203}</a></span> seemed to her; of +doubt of his youthful wisdom in this direction, when love—above all, a +boy’s love—was notoriously blind; of rising repulsion—good as she +was—at the trading middle-class into which he had strayed. He was only +eager to escort her to Drysdale Hall, and to present her, as his best +credentials, to his friends. To her mingled indignation, relief, and +reluctant amusement, she found her boy was making his own of this visit +of hers, which had been paid with another intention. In spite of Lady +Semple’s flowing accounts of the unobjectionable, indeed the very +delightful, young Glasgow heiress who had happily captivated Sir Hugo, +Lady Willoughby was come down on a mission of anxious inspection, +agitated inquiry, and, if need were, in her son’s interests, grieved but +determined opposition—powerless as she was to hinder his will—with the +hope, at least, of holding him back for a moment from wrecking his life +for a young man’s idle fancy. And here was he marshalling her as his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204">{204}</a></span> +complacent mother who was lending her countenance to his infatuation!</p> + +<p>Lady Willoughby became confused and nervous with the turn matters had +taken, but Sir Hugo offered an unmoved countenance. Auld Tam swaggered, +though not so briskly as of old, over his possessions. Mrs. Drysdale, in +the height of her timidity and her devotion to her child—the quality +which of all things would have touched the visitor, had she been capable +of measuring the large amount of fellow-feeling between the mistress of +the house and herself—was at once unduly fine and unduly humble, and +blundered hopelessly in her small affectations. It was all lost on the +couple’s future son-in-law, who smiled with cheerful unconcern, as if he +knew better, as if everything were right in the main. Neither young Tam +nor Claribel was of any use as interpreter and smoother-down of +grievances, though Lady Willoughby saw at a glance that they were, in +the language of her class, ‘civilized’ like other people.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205">{205}</a></span> Lady Semple, +who had created the imbroglio, struck in energetically, and talked on +every subject under the sun, to no purpose.</p> + +<p>It was, as it should have been, young Eppie—who was not exactly +civilized, and not like other girls of her age whom Lady Willoughby had +known—that, without intending it, came to the rescue, and prevented the +interview from proving an utter failure—nay, what was worse, an +irretrievable disaster. Yet, strange to say, Eppie had never shown +herself so refractory, so unmanageable. She was coy to the verge of +absurdity and provocation of the most indulgent of her friends. Eppie +declined absolutely to be trotted out by Lady Semple. The girls shrank +away from the perfectly gentle Lady Willoughby, who was nearly as much +put out, and a great deal sorer in heart than anybody else present, +though her years and her good breeding had taught her to control herself +and put the best face on a difficulty. Even in her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206">{206}</a></span> unwillingness to +come forward and distinguish Eppie, her ladyship was yet desirous of +being quite courteous, if possible gracious, to everybody. She might be +there to forbid the banns, but it would be done in the most reasonable, +forbearing manner.</p> + +<p>But little Eppie looked at Lady Willoughby, of whom the girl had spoken +reverently and tenderly, as if the lady was an aristocratic tyrant of +the old régime and the first water, come to annihilate the maiden for +beguiling her son.</p> + +<p>‘It was all his doing,’ Eppie, standing at bay, kept saying to herself. +‘I would never have so much as looked at him—he who might have had +Clary or anybody; but he sought me out as if he liked me best, and how +could I withstand him?’</p> + +<p>All the same she withstood Lady Willoughby, who was like her son. Eppie +turned her back upon her ladyship unmistakably; she would not be drawn +forward, but kept at a distance from the visitor, and left other people +to entertain her.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207">{207}</a></span> Eppie answered her interrogator in monosyllables when +Lady Willoughby forced herself to address the little rustic beauty who +had won her son. Eppie did not so much as care that Sir Hugo began to +look vexed. She was unjust for the moment, but it was an innocent, +disinterested injustice. Let him take away his mother and leave Eppie to +hers, for with a sudden revulsion Eppie turned and clung to her mother, +held by her skirts, as it were, and would not be taken away from her.</p> + +<p>It was this very attitude of rebellion and defiance, this simple +clinging to the ‘common woman,’ her mother, and ignoring the lady, Sir +Hugo’s mother, together with Eppie’s winsome, youthful loveliness, which +broke down Lady Willoughby’s defences. It was the old story of ‘My boy +Tammy’ over again, of the true woman who knew by unerring instinct that +her son could not be wrong in loving the ‘young thing’ whose heart was +so full of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208">{208}</a></span> her ‘mammy,’ and by an answering sweet and noble impulse +ratified his choice.</p> + +<p>Lady Willoughby commenced, not so much to unbend—for she was always +modest and meek—as to warm. She took no further notice of young Eppie, +but she smiled a wonderfully frank, kind smile upon mother Eppie and +auld Tam. She began to speak pleasantly, and in the most friendly +manner, of her son as of a person in whom they too were interested. She +looked around her with observant eyes, and took notice of all the things +he had written about and described to her, delicately indicating that, +though he might, if he would, take the most important step in life +without her consent, he had not taken it without her knowledge—he had +kept no secrets from his mother. She ended by making herself at home +during her short stay, and manifesting a sincere and flattering desire +to be better acquainted in the future with everything and everybody at +Drysdale Hall, for at present she was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209">{209}</a></span> merely passing a day with the +Semples at Semple Barns on her way to another friend’s country-house—as +it happened, the home of the Honourable Lilias, who held Dick Semple in +her chains.</p> + +<p>Then young Eppie stole from her mother’s side and went into the +conservatory, still refusing Sir Hugo’s attendance and assistance. She +gathered with her own hands, daring and defying the ogre of a +head-gardener, some of the most choice flowers, and arranged them as +only she and her mother knew how. Eppie came back when Lady Willoughby’s +foot was already on the step of the Semple Barns carriage, followed her +and made the peace-offering mutely, with changing colour and untutored +grace.</p> + +<p>Lady Willoughby turned as lightly as if she had been only half her age, +accepted the flowers, and equally without a word, kissed and smiled on +the giver. That kiss and that smile were the sign of free forgiveness, +Lady Willoughby’s seal to her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210">{210}</a></span> son’s suit which neither Sir Hugo’s wife +nor Sir Hugo’s mother were ever likely to forget.</p> + +<p>‘She will do, Hugo,’ his mother confessed to him in private. ‘She would +have been a perfect love of a girl, whether she had been a princess or a +peasant. I do not know that I could have wished one better or half so +good for you, perhaps. But oh, my dear boy! it was running a terrible +risk for you to go out of your rank, and lose your heart without so much +as thinking what you were about. And I doubt there will be difficulties; +you will have to be very patient, very generous, very prudent, Hugo. I +am afraid you do not know yet what you are doing. Though she were the +sweetest, dearest girl in the world, when there is anything like a +<i>mésalliance</i>, there is a great deal to bear.’</p> + +<p>‘Nonsense, mother. These merchant princes look down upon us poor “landed +gentry,” as they call us. They don’t need to covet matches with us. +Besides, Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211">{211}</a></span> and Mrs. Drysdale are excellent people, you must see that; +and I don’t care a rap for things,’ the young man went on in one of his +high flights, speaking rather incoherently. ‘I believe I am +thick-skinned. The risk has been well repaid, and, if you are satisfied, +it is all right; that is, if she will have me, if she will make up her +mind to exchange Drysdale Hall for Willoughby Court.’</p> + +<p>Lady Willoughby did not answer. She had made great concessions, but she +would indeed have been a wonderful woman if, with her nurture, she could +have realized that to some people, and those not the worst in the world, +Drysdale Hall in its over-blown splendour might have attractions +superior to Willoughby Court with its fine flavour of old gentility.</p> + +<p>After all, when Sir Hugo made his formal proposal, and asked Eppie’s +hand from her father, the young man was astonished and disappointed by +auld Tam’s returning him a doubtful, evasive answer.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212">{212}</a></span> Tam Drysdale +expressed himself as much obliged, he ought to say honoured, by ‘Sir +Hugie’s’ offer. He was perfectly aware of the compliment which had been +paid to his daughter; but there was time enough to think of her +marriage; she was very young. He could not answer ‘Sir Hugie’ positively +at that moment, or indeed for some time to come—not even after Eppie’s +father should have ascertained her feelings on the subject.</p> + +<p>All a lover’s eloquence and impatience were wasted in vain, in spite of +the fact that Sir Hugo had been accustomed to find himself treated as a +person of consequence all his life. Auld Tam would not stir from his +position. He was much obliged and highly honoured, etc., etc. He did not +desire to be ungracious or rude, but he could not give an absolute +answer at a moment’s notice. He must have time to think over matters. +Sir Hugo must wait. If little Eppie were not worth waiting for, then the +young gentleman had better let<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213">{213}</a></span> her alone and go his way. ‘Dod!’ he +might be thankful that he got no worse answer; he himself had been +forced to speer twice at auld Mercer, who knew him a hantle better than +he knew ‘Sir Hugie,’ before he got his Eppie.</p> + +<p>Sir Hugo might have replied that the circumstances were different, and +that something more was due to him. But he refrained. He certainly +thought young Eppie worth waiting for, and after the first shock of +mortified pride and baffled ardour was surmounted, the ingenuous nature +and excellent temper of the young man came out in the good grace with +which he submitted to the uncalled-for period of uncertainty and +probation to which he was sentenced. Nobody could see any reason for the +trial, but Sir Hugo came off so far the victor by cleverly making stock +of auld Tam’s hesitation. Sir Hugo managed not only to secure the +sympathy and support of the bride and all the other members of her +family, but to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214">{214}</a></span> prove to his mother and the connections of his house +acquainted with the affair, the truth of his assertion of the +disinterestedness and superiority of the merchant princes, and how +guiltless they were in the person of Mr. Drysdale of Drysdale Hall of +any anxiety to bestow a daughter on Sir Hugo Willoughby.</p> + +<p>It was auld Tam’s own household that were most aggrieved by his conduct.</p> + +<p>‘What does my father mean?’ demanded young Tam, with a fellow-feeling +for his brother bachelor in the ordeal he was made to pass through. ‘He +ought not to have suffered Sir Hugo to come so much here, if my father +intended to object at the last moment.’</p> + +<p>‘He will get Eppie and all of us talked about,’ complained Claribel. +‘People will not understand. They will suppose Sir Hugo has drawn back, +or that there is some trouble with the settlements.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, does father not like him? What fault can father find with him? I’m +sure<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215">{215}</a></span> he likes father,’ poor Eppie pled piteously with her mother, till +what Mrs. Drysdale called her ‘corruption,’ her unregenerate nature, was +roused to remonstrate strongly in her turn with her husband.</p> + +<p>‘Would you mar your bairn’s credit and happiness, Tam Drysdale, for a +freit [fancy] at this time of the day? Nobody feels more keenly than me +that she is going out from us, that we are giving her up to the fine +lad. But they’re a braw young couple. Eppie will be my leddy, and what +for no? If Providence has willed her promotion, my bit lassie is worthy +to wear a crown, like Queen Esther in the Auld Testament. We’ve no +earthly title to prevent it. What’s come ower you that you dinna see +that? What makes you sae thrawn [cross], lad?’</p> + +<p>But neither did auld Tam yield to the wife of his bosom. He had always +the same answer to give—time enough. He must think. He would give his +consent, or it might be his denial, when it was fitting. If Sir Hugie +could not stay—let him go.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216">{216}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII.</a><br><br> +<small>A CHARMED SAIL.</small></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">In</span> the middle of auld Tam’s perversity, he suddenly announced that he +would take a holiday sail. He had never set up a yacht of his own, +neither had young Tam adopted that refuge and glory of a maritime +people, especially of the young swells of the mercantile world of the +West of Scotland. But there were various friends’ yachts at auld Tam’s +disposal the moment he signified his intention. Neither was company +likely to fail him; but here he was as arbitrary as he had been lately +in other matters. He would have nobody with him save the two Eppies. He +would not allow the presence of young Tam, saying that he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217">{217}</a></span> might be +wanted at the office and works in his father’s absence. But neither +would Tam have Clary with him, though she was an experienced and +excellent yachtswoman; she should stay at home and keep house while her +mother was away; and he actually scouted the suggestion of the +attendance of Sir Hugo, who had nothing else to do, would have liked +nothing in the world better, and made humble overtures to be allowed to +join the party. The planner of the expedition desired a rest—complete, +however short—from the toils of business, and, for that matter, of +hospitality; and to procure this he must have none except the two +members of his family whom he had chosen—his wife and his younger +daughter—to sail with him.</p> + +<p>The drawbacks were that neither of the Eppies were good sailors, that +both had a most unaffected dislike to spending days and nights at sea, +and that though the weather was remarkably fine for the season, the +month of October had been reached,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218">{218}</a></span> with its lengthening nights, +shortening days, chill, frosty air, and sudden gales, striking terror +into the hearts of landswomen.</p> + +<p>But the two women on whom auld Tam had pitched to bear him company would +never fail their lord and master. Had it been Styx and not Clyde he had +fixed on for his watery highway, and had Charon and not an honest man +from Largs been the steersman of the vessel, the two Eppies would have +gone down as devotedly and almost as intrepidly, with a certain fond +pride that auld Tam should have elected them for the partners of his +voyage. It did not signify that their faces were pale—the elder Eppie’s +from sheer quaking before an anticipated experience so foreign and +unpalatable to her, and with the thought of the home and children she +might never see again, if auld Tam, his company and crew, went to the +bottom, in this unchancy autumn trip on which he had set his heart in a +strange, almost an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219">{219}</a></span> uncanny manner. As for the younger Eppie, her sweet +colour was gone, because her tender heart was wrung by the injustice and +injury done to her lover, while yet she did not dream of resisting her +father—loyal still to auld Tam in the worst of his caprices.</p> + +<p>The sail was not to be very prolonged or to involve further risk than +could not be avoided in a change of weather with the squally gusts +concentrated in the passes between the mountains, which sometimes lend a +peculiar peril to such coast-sailing. For auld Tam meant merely to run +up one or other of the arms of the sea with which all the dwellers in +the region are familiar, to lie to in the shadow of the everlasting +hills each night, and resume his course on the following morning.</p> + +<p>There was no sign of any fall of the barometer or chopping of the wind, +which was in fact too light, with no more than a harmless ripple on the +water, when the little freight started from the pier at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220">{220}</a></span> Greenock, to +which the carriage and steamboat had transported them, leaving behind a +disconsolate group of persons, who had insisted on accompanying their +friends so far, looking wistfully after them. The least affected of the +group were Claribel and Eneas Mackinnon, who had ventured unrebuked, +unless by his own unaccounted-for success, to make himself one of the +family. They were neither of them over-burdened with imagination, and +they had enough of business of their own on their hands to occupy them. +He contented himself with observing on the cut of the yacht and +calculating the rate of her speed; and Clary’s moan was summed up in +declaring that really her mother and Eppie had no excuse for being ill. +Then the couple dropped the subject for others more interesting to them, +as they moved away, he sauntering by her side, in the probable style of +their progress through life.</p> + +<p>But young Tam muttered discontentedly,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221">{221}</a></span> ‘I cannot tell what has come +over my father—a yacht trip in October, and my mother and Eppie +frightened out of their wits if the sails fill or the deck inclines a +quarter of an inch.’</p> + +<p>Sir Hugo said nothing. He was haunted with the vision of an old picture +he had seen abroad of the Virgin Mary, her mother St. Anne, and St. +Joseph, sailing away on a shoreless sea, and with the echo of the +refrain of one of young Eppie’s saddest songs—</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘Ochone! for fair Helen, ochone!<br></span> +<span class="i1">Ochone! for the flower of Strathco:<br></span> +<span class="i3">In the deep, deep sea,<br></span> +<span class="i3">In the saut, saut bree,<br></span> +<span class="i1">Lord Reoch, thy Helen lies low!’<br></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p>Sir Hugo had to put the greatest force upon himself to resist rushing +off, securing another yacht, and following in the wake of the Drysdales. +He had just enough judgment left to recognise that no measure would so +offend and outrage auld Tam as the invasion of his privacy to which the +young man was tempted.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222">{222}</a></span></p> + +<p>In reality no such tremendous calamity as the shipwreck or foundering of +the yacht threatened auld Tam and his faithful womankind. The little +vessel was as good and serviceable as any Clyde-built craft which has an +honourable reputation. The skipper and crew were picked men of their +class, to be depended upon in all circumstances. The weather continued +uninterruptedly fine, so as to soothe the excitable feelings even of the +two Eppies.</p> + +<p>‘Oh, it is bonnie, mother; I never knew it would be so bonnie!’ said +young Eppie, standing, without tottering, in her dark serge costume, +with only her cheeks, rosy once more, to relieve it, as she watched the +blue water over which the yacht rode lightly, and the autumn-tinted +hills and woods of the shore. ‘If it is all like this, I don’t think +we’ll be feared, and it will be a fine change for father from the Haugh +and Glasgow.’</p> + +<p>‘Bairn, I never saw sic weather in October,’ said her mother, still +inclined to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223">{223}</a></span> be awed, if not appalled. ‘It is just a ferlie [marvel]. +Eh! how gude it will be for the petawties diggin’ and pittin’. If your +father had only ta’en a thocht of driving ower to my auld hame—though +it is in the hands of strangers now—and of bidin’ a day or twa, to +watch the farm folk at their wark, or to fish in the burn, I could have +baked scones sic as he was fond o’ lang syne to give him an appetite. +But, as you say, if the water is nae waur than this, it will be a fine +change, and it may do him a heap of gude; poor chield, he has been +forfochten [over-worked], as he kens best, of late!’</p> + +<p>Auld Tam did not seem to reap immediate advantage from the variety he +had sought. He was still engrossed and oppressed, and paced up and down, +taking little notice of his wife and daughter. But as the hours wore on, +and the breeze—though it was no more than a summer breeze—blew +fresher, the wavelets curled with a whiter crest, and the +thickly-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224">{224}</a></span>populated banks gave place to lonelier, wilder regions, where +the woods of Finnart embowered the hamlet of Ardentinny, and higher and +higher rose the heathery hills, showing nothing but sheep-tracks and the +furrows worn by winter torrents, till the great mass of the Cobbler +loomed dark against the early sunset, auld Tam shook himself up, as if +the wind and the water were blowing away the cobwebs from his brain. He +took note of each well-known landmark, and pointed it out carefully to +his companions—not so familiar with the scene. He told them the stories +he had heard in his boyhood—how the Danes had landed there; and here +the clan Macfarlane had shouted their slogan ‘Lochsloy! Lochsloy!’ when +they started to levy blackmail and plunder and murder whoever resisted +them. He cheered the Eppies with prophecies of the settled nature of the +weather—more to be depended on than in early summer—which would last +their trip. He foretold how quietly the yacht would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225">{225}</a></span> lie off Arrochar +till morning broke. He incited the ladies to have an informal scrambling +meal—a sort of tea, dinner, and supper in one—of roast fowl and cold +round, ham and tongue, partridges, cheese, and oysters, with bitter +beer, claret and Glenlivat, tea and coffee, toast and cake, grapes and +melons, eaten and drunk on deck. Tam Drysdale waited on his wife and +daughter in spite of their remonstrances, as if he were proud to be +their servant; and he did not forget the shy, independent sailors who +drew off from witnessing the feast, and could only be induced by an +instantly established freemasonry of jokes and grins between auld Tam +and the crew, and gentle solicitations from the two gentlewomen of whom +the men were taking care, to accept a share of the good things lavishly +provided for the occasion.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam was himself again, and the two Eppies could not help being +glad, though night was falling, and though they had still the fearful +experience before them<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226">{226}</a></span> of descending to their cabin and going to bed +rocked on the bosom of the deep. In the meantime the moon and star light +shone white over Arrochar, causing the mountains to throw blacker +shadows, and the twinkling lamps of the village to look red and yellow, +and the water between to glisten with a trembling radiance. The +stillness, now that the yacht had stopped sailing, acquired something of +mystery, like everything else in the unwonted surroundings. It was a +clear, cold night, frosty indeed, but there was no fog, and the air was +so pure and rare that it was not unpleasant to meet it, enveloped in the +multitude of ‘haps’—cloaks and plaids, hoods and clouds—with which +Mrs. Drysdale had taken care to come provided. The women stayed on deck, +impressed, as these simple souls had not expected to be, by the new +world around them.</p> + +<p>The elder Eppie kept close to her Tam, felt as if they were one again, +and was wonderfully content to sit by him while he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227">{227}</a></span> smoked in silence, +or occasionally uttered a brief word of admiration, for auld Tam was a +great admirer of nature in an old-fashioned, solemnized style.</p> + +<p>The younger Eppie drew away by herself. She sat a little behind the +mast, and looked up with great innocent eyes at the lustrous moon, +asking herself if <i>he</i> were looking at it as she was, and knowing that +he must, for she was sure that he was watching every turn of the +weathercock and every cloud in the sky till she was safe on land again. +She wished he were there, but she felt they would not be long apart, for +her father must relent, and then Sir Hugo would not grudge her for these +few days to him. And oh! she would try to be good to her man, as she +tried to be good to her father and mother, and God would bless them and +take care of them for evermore. As little Eppie gazed across the moonlit +waters, a strange transformation took place. She ceased to see the dim +mountains looming around her, the dark<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228">{228}</a></span> loch at her feet, the planks and +ropes of the yacht close at hand. She beheld, what her bodily eyes had +never rested upon, but what she had heard often described with love’s +eloquence. She saw the rich foliage of a double row of spreading lime +trees in a green park, the low square tower of a Norman church rising +above the mossy park-wall on one side, and a red house, all mullioned +windows and peaked gables, with flower-beds and an ancient fountain and +sundial on a terrace. And she knew it was his English home on which the +same moon was shining as it might shine when the home was hers also, +when she had quitted Scotland and the west, and he was teaching her to +be such a lady as his mother was. Lady Willoughby was grander in her +soft unconscious dignity than stately Clary or restless Lady Semple. Yet +Lady Willoughby had taken Eppie’s flowers and stooped and kissed her, +and, Eppie knew, had received her, for Lady Willoughby’s son’s sake, +into a second mother’s heart,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229">{229}</a></span> true and tender as Eppie’s own mother’s. +Had the girl not reason to be grateful?</p> + +<p>The morning rose with a more silvery haze than if the season had been +summer, though during the night that had passed the frost had laid fiery +fingers on what was left of the heather, on the leaves of the sapling +oaks and the light tresses of the birk-trees—only the dark-green firs, +like the hills above them, defied cold, heat, storm, sunshine.</p> + +<p>The hours of sleep might have been dreamful and restless, spent so far +from home, where everything was so out of gear, as even the most +luxurious yacht’s cabin appeared to the dwellers in Drysdale Hall; but +nothing save refreshment could come from the caller air, the sparkling +water, the mist like curdled milk, or flakes of wool drawn back and up +into the highest recesses of the hills. Mrs. Eppie had another and a +lower source of happiness by which maiden Eppie was not altogether +unmoved—not only were they miraculously escaping the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230">{230}</a></span> pandemonium of +sea-sickness which they had braved like two heroines for the love of +auld Tam, half a day and a night of the pilgrimage were gone, and they +were so much nearer to home and Sir Hugo.</p> + +<p>The opening into another loch with an island and a ruined castle was +passed, and the Kyles between Bute and Cowal were entered. The October +sun streamed down mellow, not wan as yet, on crags and knolls, grey +pinnacles, ferny dells and bickering burns, on Colintraive and +Tighnabruaich, deserted by their summer visitors, left to hardy fishers +and herdsmen. Ardlamont Point was turned and Kilbrandon Sound reached, +leaving Tarbet with its tower, and Ardrishaig with its early steamboat +behind. Lochfyne presented a noble landlocked water, bearing in the +season fleets of brown herring-boats swaying with the tide. On its +shores, glens, valleys, and mountains succeeded each other. Here was the +glen of the Leakan; yonder flashed the waters of the Uray and the Shira; +that peaked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231">{231}</a></span> hill was Dunaquoich, and in its shelter rose the castle of +M‘Callummore.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam was peaceful as the weather, pleased as his companions. He +coaxed the two Eppies into a small boat, to undergo the penance of being +rowed up a minor water to the shore where the channel was narrowest; and +the bank he chose offered nothing but shelving rock, rough grass, +bracken and blackberries, curlews and plovers with their shrill, +ear-piercing cries. Perhaps the place was seen more in character when +autumn was beginning to add to the natural desolation of the scenery, +than in spring or summer.</p> + +<p>Tam Drysdale rewarded his companions for their submission to his fancies +by letting them sit down and look at sea and sky, all bright and glad in +contrast to the earth, and at the yacht reflected in the blue water; or +to scramble till even the youngest scrambler’s light feet were tired.</p> + +<p>The solitude and the stillness sank into minds unaccustomed but not +irresponsive to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232">{232}</a></span> such influences, and first thrilled the guileless +hearts through and through, and then calmed their throbbing pulses.</p> + +<p>As young Eppie sought to pluck the last red ling, singed by the nightly +pinches of frost, over which the bees, safe in their binks until the +summer returned, had ceased to hover, with the lingering tufts of thrift +or sea-pink whitening under the salt spray by the water’s edge, she kept +humming—</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘Lowland lassie, will you go<br></span> +<span class="i1">Whaur the hills are clad wi’ snow;<br></span> +<span class="i1">Whaur, beyond yon icy steep,<br></span> +<span class="i1">The Highland shepherd tends his sheep?’<br></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p class="nind">and pointed exultingly to the farthest-away mountain which had white +streaks across its bald front. But if she had known it, these signs +which she took to be the harbingers of approaching winter had survived +all the summer sunshine, and were no more like the glorious but ghastly +livery of the death of the year than the little streamlet issuing from +the well-eye is like the great<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233">{233}</a></span> river hurrying to the edge of the +precipice and leaping fiercely to destruction before it loses itself in +the islandless sea.</p> + +<p>‘Everything looks auld, auld, and yet as fresh as on the day of +creation,’ said the elder Eppie, while the three figures, like the three +corbies to which auld Tarn compared them, perched themselves on some +stones and appeared the only moving, breathing objects in the landscape. +‘Tam, it’s like being alane in the presence of ane’s Maker.’</p> + +<p>‘Yet the boat is in sicht and fishing-cobles forbye, and the next minute +a steamer full of the world’s racket may come tearing through the water, +leaving a long wreath of black smoke filing [defiling] the blue lift +[air]. There are far loner spots than this within a day’s sail, if it +had been fit to venture there with timorous women so far on in the year. +But this may serve,’ said Tam, half-absently and with a sigh—‘this +taste of the world as God made it. What do you think, Eppie, woman? It’s +grand in its very nakedness, and on few lines, like<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234">{234}</a></span> a’ His +wark—nothing weak or ower saft and fine and dilittanty about it. It +mak’s us ashamed of the feck [most] of our wark. What do you think? We +could strip ourselves of our warks, as the preachers call them, in His +sicht, and lay them down and leave them without breaking our hearts. +What do you think?’ he kept repeating eagerly.</p> + +<p>‘You’re richt, Tam, no doubt,’ said his wife gently, bat with only the +most superficial guess at his meaning. ‘We brocht naething into the +world, and we’ll tak’ naething out—that’s plain. And all our bravery +that we set sic store on is no more than bairns’ toys that the bairns +are brodent [keen] on for a day and forget the next.’</p> + +<p>‘Men’s praise amang the lave,’ chimed in Tam.</p> + +<p>‘Ay, men’s praise or blame will fa’ dead where there are nae lugs [ears] +greedy to kep it. But are you no weel, Tam, my man,’ asked Eppie +anxiously, ‘that you speak in so serious a strain?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235">{235}</a></span></p> + +<p>‘Oh, I’m weel enough,’ said Tam, stretching the arms which were still +brawny. ‘But I was wondering, Eppie, my joe, how you would like if we +had to go back to the beginning and commence afresh, as we did +sax-and-twenty years syne, with a room or twa, and no so muckle as a +servant lass; only me to earn our daily bread, and only you to keep the +house richt, and spend my wages.’</p> + +<p>‘Fine, Tam, I would like it—real fine!’ exclaimed Eppie, with honest +readiness and gladness. ‘I dinna pretend that I’m as soople as when I +was young, or that I would not miss mony a thing, for ane soon learns +ill lessons; but to have you all to mysel’ again—to cook for you, to +mend for you, and to keep all richt and ticht for you without any +help—I could do it as well as ever, and prood to do it, my lad! It +would make up for a gude wheen losses.’</p> + +<p>And the husband and wife looked into each other’s faithful eyes, grasped +each other’s honest hands, and he knew that she spoke no more than the +truth. Each was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236">{236}</a></span> dear as ever to the other, and so long as the one +treasure was left, all else might go, without too bitter lamentation.</p> + +<p>Young Eppie had been listening in respectful silence to what she, like +her mother, judged too grave talk to be lightly dealt with. But now she +spoke up with something like a pout:</p> + +<p>‘And what is to become of me when you two are going to set up house +again by your two selves, wanting nobody else to interfere and upset +you? Father, mother, I’m here. You seem to have forgotten my very +existence. I must say it is not very kind of you.’</p> + +<p>The girl spoke more than half in jest, and yet there was a little +soreness in her merry tones. The old ties which had been strong as death +were loosening from her; but it smote her that they should drop from her +in this fashion—that her father and mother should speak of the future +even in the lightest imagination, and leave her out of count. She had +not expected it from them.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237">{237}</a></span> It was not what <i>he</i> would have done—he who +was above her in rank, and had been used to grand ladies; he could never +draw a picture of his coming life in which she was not in the +foreground.</p> + +<p>‘Never fear, bairn,’ said auld Tam tenderly; ‘where there are father and +mother the bairns can never be forgotten—never—even when they’ve grown +to men and women’s estate, are heads of houses of their ain, and have +flown far from the parent nest. But I’ve a question to speer of you, +too, young Eppie;’ and he drew her nearer to him, and made her look into +his face. ‘What if all this speak of a grand lad and a title, and a +Coort and what not, come to nothing some fine morning, after all? Will +you blame your father? Will you never smile in his face again? Will you +and he never more be happy together, as you were before?’</p> + +<p>‘Tam, Tam! ye’re tryin’ the bairn; she’s ower young to answer such +questions—though maybe you’ve a richt to judge for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238">{238}</a></span> her, since she’s +under age, if so be you can show a reasonable warrant for your judgment, +and she’ll submit to your lawful authority when she can; for she’s not +dour [obstinate] or contermacious [refractory]. She’s your ain loving, +obedient little lass. But how can you, man? Would you plague her as gin +she were a patient Grizel and you were a ragin’ tyrant? You’ve no +richt—I will not have it, though I am your wife—it’s fair cruelty, +Tam.’</p> + +<p>In truth, little Eppie had grown white and cold, and was trembling in +every limb. At last she said in a low choked voice, looking down and +plucking nervously at the bent grass:</p> + +<p>‘Why are you so thrawn [cross] to him, father? He never harmed you. He +has a great liking and respect for you, though you’re not like his +people. Is it just because he likes me that you are so unkind?’</p> + +<p>‘Bairn—it will not rest with me,’ said Tam, with something like a +smothered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239">{239}</a></span> groan. ‘It is supposing Sir Hugie draws back, and will have +no more to say to you.’</p> + +<p>‘He will not draw back,’ broke in young Eppie, holding her head high, +and with a rush of colour back into her white cheeks. ‘He’ll never be +forsworn, whatever happens. You may make me give him up, but Sir Hugo +will never give me up.’</p> + +<p>‘Not with his will, I daur say,’ granted Tam, ‘or the loon [fellow], +though he were a lord, would not be worth a hoast [cough]. But my +gentleman may be overborne, high-hearted as he is—I’ll not deny it. +Bools may row so that he cannot control them. He has his mither and his +factor to answer to: a young laird is aften sair hadden down by his +factor, and no doubt so is an English squire, though he has a “Sir” +before his name, by his agent, who stands for his factor. The young man +has his credit with his billies [contemporaries] and the inheritance he +has to hand down to the next generation to hamper him. Oh, there are +mony things<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240">{240}</a></span> to consider that young folk dinna tak’ in at a glance and +winna believe can weigh against love itsel’.’</p> + +<p>‘I dinna believe it!’ exclaimed auld Eppie indignantly. ‘Dinna heed him, +my lamb!’ she said rebelliously. ‘He’s no in earnest, though why he +should tak’ to sic ill joking in this wild pairt, I canna tell. He’s no +himsel’. This sail in the cauld has been ower hard upon him, that sits +so long in a hot office—that’s what it is. Come back to the boat, Tam, +like a man; and let’s hoist sail and hurry hame, and see the doctor in +the bygaun.’</p> + +<p>But he paid no attention to his wife. He went on like a man in earnest, +and a hale man still, determined to ply his daughter with an imaginary +case:</p> + +<p>‘Sir Hugie is no a reckless callant of a ne’er-do-weel to care only for +his ain will and pleasure, and he is not just free to make his choice +like a common man. He’s like a young prince, bound to think on the +interests of others. He may be brocht to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241">{241}</a></span> see—to fancy he sees that it +will be best for you and him to pairt.’</p> + +<p>Little Eppie sat motionless with her hands locked together in her lap, +while the contention between these two who loved her, and whom she loved +so well, passed over her head. The eerie October wind and the sad +sea-waves seemed to sigh and sob an accompaniment to the strange +incomprehensible argument.</p> + +<p>‘Then, father,’ she said, with a break in her soft voice, and a far-away +look of misery in her gentle eyes, ‘we <i>will</i> part. If you and he agree +that we ought, what have I to say? What am I, that I should stand up +against him and you? We’ll do what is right, and God help us all!’</p> + +<p>‘Haud your tongue this minute, Eppie!’ cried her mother. ‘There’s no +call for you to say such words. Make no rash promises. Oh! it is no fair +to bring the bairn here to a place so lonesome that one might commit a +murder and it would never be found out till the day of doom, where +there’s nane<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242">{242}</a></span> but me to interfere between you, and speak her round and +break her heart, and get her to give up her lad—a grand lad and a gude +lad. You that were so fond o’ little Eppie, Tam. You maun have taken +leave of your senses—you maun be fey, if ever man was.’</p> + +<p>‘Never, gudewife,’ said auld Tam gruffly, in order to hide a little +tremulousness in his own accents. ‘You micht trust me, woman, at this +time of the day. It’s all fair, and will soon be aboon-board. As for +you, my bairn, that last word was spoken like my gude little lass, and +is a help to her father, as she will like to hear and to think long +after he’s laid in the mools. It’s God’s truth as weel. We’ll do what’s +richt an’ shame the deevil, and trust to the Pooers aboon, who made +baith the city and the solitary places, for the rest. There, think nae +mair of what I’ve been saying. I’ve been trying you baith, as mother +says, and thank God you’ve neither of you been found wanting, which is +nae mair than I looked for, though i<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243">{243}</a></span>t’s far mair than a sinfu’ man +deserves. Let’s be happy when we can,’ cried auld Tam, a little +incoherently. ‘What would you say, little Eppie, to a race ower the +stanes or among the bent? No? Then we’ll just take our time—it’s all +our ain the day—and daunder down to the sma’-boat and row back to the +yacht with a gude appetite for the next meal. What will you wager that +I’ve not forgotten in this ploy of idle-set [idleness] whether it’s +luncheon, dinner, or supper? Never mind; it will be welcome, whatever.’</p> + +<p>The women were not so easily set at rest. They were disturbed and +dumfoundered; but auld Tam recovered so entirely from the agitation he +had shown, he was so much more at his ease from that minute, so +resolutely calm and cheerful, that the two Eppies could not help +regaining their spirits—though they did not forget—and being as happy +once more as the sea and the dread of storms would let them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244">{244}</a></span></p> + +<p>The next day was the last day of the trip, and as it was also Sunday, +auld Tam, like a reverent Scotchman of the old school, the member of a +kirk and a regular attender at the same, caused his vessel to lie-to in +a safe anchorage, went ashore in the morning with his party, and walked +to the most primitive of parish churches, where he worshipped with his +fellow-men. The afternoon was grey, but still calm and quiet. The family +group gathered on the deck once more.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam made little Eppie read ‘a lesson’ out of her Testament, as she +had done every Sunday when she first began to read, to her father and +mother, who had listened with pleased attention and secret admiration +that did not prevent their being ready with a homely correction whenever +she mispronounced a word. The childish voice had sounded as if it came +from a cherub oracle, uttering, without comprehension, in a clear, +unfaltering treble, awful words of everlasting moment. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245">{245}</a></span> girlish +tones were deeper, and had more rising and falling meaning in them; but +they were almost as unconscious, with no subtle undercurrent of +reflection, as the reader, on this October afternoon, chose for a lesson +the history of Jonah, the secret sinner who concealed his superior +knowledge, kept back his heaven-sent tidings, and imperilled by his +guilty presence an innocent ship’s crew.</p> + +<p>‘He came to his senses, and spoke out like a man at last,’ was auld +Tam’s single comment on the reading, uttered as if the final atonement +afforded him great satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Then he made young Eppie sing two of the old Scotch psalms. One of them +was ‘The Lord’s my Shepherd,’ with its broad distinctions and wide +stretches—from death’s dark vale, where the Almighty’s rod and staff +are the sole stay for the forlorn wayfarer, to the sumptuous earthly +table furnished in the presence of his human foes, with the kingly oil +and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246">{246}</a></span> overflowing cup anointing and confirming him as a prince and +ruler over his fellows.</p> + +<p>Tam, like most Scotchmen of his generation, had said that psalm when a +child at his mother’s knee.</p> + +<p>The other psalm he and his wife had sung together in the congregation on +many a peaceful Sunday, but never with such vivid realization as now, +when they heard it in the amphitheatre of mountains:</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘I to the hills will lift mine eyes,<br></span> +<span class="i1">From whence doth come mine aid.’<br></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p class="nind">As young Eppie sang ‘with grave, sweet melody’ the solemn, familiar +words, the skipper and his men in their Sunday clothes hanging about the +deck, and putting a touch now and then to the tackle, which, like a +living creature, must be seen to Sunday and Saturday, paused to listen, +and took their pipes out of their mouths as if to hear better, though +they were too blate [bashful] to draw nearer, or make any other sign of +appreciation:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247">{247}</a></span></p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘Behold He that keeps Israel,<br></span> +<span class="i1">He slumbers not nor sleeps.’<br></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p class="nind">No more than these giant sentries, hemming in and protecting the great +loch, with nothing hidden there that should not be revealed, and nothing +really to fear from a brave revelation.</p> + +<p>‘Ay, the hills are grand,’ said Tam emphatically. ‘Grand, like truth +itsel’. No mortal lee, or pridefu’ conceit, or blind self-deception, +will lift up its head before them. I verily believe they’re the +tabernacle of the Almichty.’</p> + +<p>Certainly there was, while he spoke, a light as from a divine sanctuary +on Tam Drysdale’s face, which had grown so grey and lined of late. The +light still lingered upon it when he landed in common day with his +womankind at Greenock on the morrow, and was met by the same friends who +had escorted him on board, with congratulations on his prosperous trip, +to which he responded cordially.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless auld Tam continued to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248">{248}</a></span> hold off Sir Hugo—not angrily or +sternly, rather with a half-authoritative, half-deprecating manner, that +seemed to say, ‘Not yet, Sir Hugie; wait a little longer, my fine young +gentleman, till you see and hear everything.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249">{249}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII.</a><br><br> +<small>THE LAST OF RORY OF THE SHELTIES—DR. PETER ON THE SCENT.</small></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">‘He’s</span> gane, and nae mistake, puir lad, said Sandy Macnab, respectful for +once, and also for once deficient in his constitutional volubility.</p> + +<p>He stood with Dr. Peter Murray by a box-bed far from tidy, but not +deficient in the ordinary comforts of a bed of its class, while over the +rest of the bedclothes was thrown a tartan plaid. Beneath the covering, +with the head and chest exposed, lay the worn, breathless body of Rory +of the Shelties, from which life had just departed.</p> + +<p>The locality was no remote shieling in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250">{250}</a></span> North Uist, but Bawby Sed’s +house in a street off the Gallowgate of Glasgow. Bawby herself, with the +effusiveness of her nature and race, was rocking to and fro, and +wailing, with an apron thrown over her head, as if it were her man Andry +and her whole numerous family that had been taken from her, instead of a +half-witted Highland ‘gangrel’ (tramp)—who was nobody’s body, with whom +she had been accidentally and temporarily associated, not greatly to her +profit or pleasure.</p> + +<p>The time was yet so early in the morning that the November daylight was +still only struggling with a tallow candle burning down and guttering in +the socket. The fact that the daily life of Glasgow was not far advanced +accounted for the comparative privacy and stillness of Bawby’s dwelling. +The husband and elder children had set forth to their work, and the +younger fry had not begun to stir. No visitor was yet ready to drop in, +while the old woman who had shared with the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251">{251}</a></span> mistress of the house the +last night-watch by the sick man, had gone out for more assistance to +perform with due ceremony, such as Bawby would not on any account have +neglected, the office of ‘straiking the corp.’</p> + +<p>‘There’s nothing to be done, as you say, Sandy,’ remarked Dr. Peter, +failing to reproach Sir James Semple’s man, who had rushed out to Barley +Riggs in the small hours for the doctor, and dragged him in to Glasgow, +where medical men abounded, and there was a special practitioner told +off for the wants of the poor in the parish in question.</p> + +<p>‘I thocht, as he had been your patient aince, doctor, you would like to +see the last of him,’ said Sandy confidentially.</p> + +<p>‘Well, if it is any comfort to you and the honest woman that I am here, +that is something, since I can be of no use to him,’ said Dr. Peter +resignedly. ‘But what was the poor creature doing here, Macnab? I +thought he went back to his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252">{252}</a></span> part of the country, after he was put out +of Gartnavel—three—no, I’ll be bound it is nearer five months ago.’</p> + +<p>‘That’s just the way of it, sir,’ said Sandy, a little confused, but +without proceeding to explain how the contradiction came about. Then he +turned with some impatience to his lamenting countrywoman. ‘I wish you +would hand your wheest, Bawby; you will be enough to drive a man doited, +with your bubblin’ and greetin’!’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, the puir lad!’ went on Bawby, with unabated energy, behind her +apron; ‘and I thocht when I saw him first that he would bring me word of +the auld man—M‘Leish, you ken—that befriended me when I was a +motherless bairn, and, instead, the lad’s ain friends will be wondering +what has become of him this day—ochone! ochone!’</p> + +<p>‘If you would only listen to reason, woman, before you’re in the ecsties +[hysterics],’ remonstrated Sandy; ‘what friends is he likely to have, a +wasp of a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253">{253}</a></span> natural—that I should say sic a word and him no cauld—weel +on for forty? They will think theirsel’s weel quit o’ him, I doubtna; +forbye, he spoke of no friends save his granny—and she, if she were to +the fore, would be weel on to a hunder, ower auld and cauld to care for +ocht but the keepin’ in o’ her ain wee glimmer of life and heat. He +cared mair for his bit boxie, when it had the papers intil’t, than for +a’ the friends that ever had the misfortune to own him. As for +Ballachulish and auld M‘Leish—are you as daft as he was? How could a +man from the islands bring you word of what was done on the main-land?’</p> + +<p>‘Why did he not go back to his island, and where is the box that he set +such store on?’ inquired Dr. Peter.</p> + +<p>He was not a suspicious man, nor was he inclined to believe that a man +in Sandy Macnab’s position, with a place and a character to lose, would +be likely to risk them for what, after all, must have been a small<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254">{254}</a></span> +temptation. Still the listener did not quite like the aspect of affairs.</p> + +<p>‘That’s just what it is, sir,’ Sandy repeated his vague formula, looking +yet more embarrassed. Then the man seemed to take a sudden +determination, and resolve on a free confession. ‘Losh! I’ll tell you a’ +about it. I havena been so far to blame, nor has Bawby here, that we +should beat about the buss [bush], and think shame, and maybe called in +question for what we never did or thocht to do. It was not my blame that +Mr. Drysdale wouldna give me speech o’ him, or he micht have kenned lang +syne that the puir sorry Rory was not aff the carpet, but was lying here +getting waur and waur, and failing ilka day, till he was as gude as in +the death-thraw [death-struggle]. Nicol Macnicol would have naething to +say to sic a cargy on board his boat. It would have turned the stamachs +of all the fine gentry to see or hear tell of a deeing beggar on the +same planks with them.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255">{255}</a></span></p> + +<p>‘It was to give the craytur a bit treat out of his notie that we keepit +him at first,’ mourned the more ingenuous Bawby. ‘He had never seen +Glasgy afore; and then, when he took a turn and fell ill again, and +couldna be lifted, I couldna cast him out like a dug, you ken. I’m sure +I’ve had fash [trouble] enough wi’ my man Andry—wha’s that dour, +dornach [strong cloth] is naething to him. He threepit I micht as weel +keep beggars’ ludgins at aince. And wha’s to bury the puir silly chap +that’s stiffening fast, I canna just say. Sandy Macnab’s willing to +help. I’ve some savings in the fit of a stocking that Andry’s never +seen, or he would have them awa’ to put into a society in a jiffy—Andry +is an awfu’ hand at societies. But I’m willing to waur [spend] a pickle +on a Hielantman, and I hope the pariss will do the rest.’</p> + +<p>‘I’ll see to that, Mrs. Seth,’ promised Dr. Peter, ‘and I’ll give you a +certificate for the registrar. But you’ve never told me where the poor +fellow got the note on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256">{256}</a></span> which he was to have had the treat, or where the +box is that he valued so highly. Perhaps its contents may be of some +consequence to his friends, or may help to defray the expenses of the +funeral.’</p> + +<p>‘Very like!’ said Sandy Macnab, not aware of displaying any want of +feeling by speaking in a tone of unmistakable derision. ‘Yonder the +kistie is;’ and he pointed to the wayfarer’s battered knapsack kicked +below a table. ‘When it was fu’, its valuables consisted, if you’ll +believe me, sir, of a wheen papers, an auld will of are Drysdale, and +the purpose of marriage of ane Mackinnon, baith of them, I’m creditably +informed, dead and buried mair than a score of years syne. I cannot tell +what maggot came into Rory’s head, but I did the best for him. I got him +speech of Mr. Drysdale up at Drysdale Hall, and it was him that, +sensible gentleman though he is, gifted Rory with the note in exchange +for the papers. I was to see him aff the Broomielaw,’ acknowledged +Sandy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257">{257}</a></span> reluctantly, with a slight deepening of his ruddy colour; ‘but +you see, sir, as Bawby said, it seemed but richt that the craytur should +have a treat afore he gaed back to the hills—the mair so that he hadna +taken in a particle of what he had seen, but was brodent on some +miserable cruivie in North Uist. It seemed an awfu’ shame to send him +back where he cam’ from, with no more notion of the world than that. But +for all the gude that it has done to him, and considering what has +happened,’ said Sandy candidly, as he looked down regretfully on his +unfortunate countryman, lying for ever prostrate, ‘we micht have left +him in ignorance to daunder [saunter] hame in time to dee there.’</p> + +<p>Dr. Peter’s whole aspect had undergone a change while Sandy spoke. First +a startled and then a troubled look came into the thoughtful eyes, until +the whole face fell indescribably. At last his mouth set with a rueful +determination, and he turned away.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258">{258}</a></span></p> + +<p>By the time Dr. Peter had ridden out to Barley Riggs he had composed his +countenance and rid himself of every trace of disturbance. But it was a +very grave, sobered-looking man who presented himself at Athole’s +breakfast-table, instead of the cheery philosopher who was wont to take +his place there, and be the light of the morning and of the meal.</p> + +<p>Athole, who had parted from her father overnight in his usual spirits, +did not know what to make of the change. She inquired in turn for every +patient she could remember, and received no information which could +explain Dr. Peter’s mood. She investigated into his own health, and was +told, with the impatience of a man to whom it was a contemptible trifle +at that moment, that he was perfectly well. What should ail him?</p> + +<p>‘Then I wish, father, people would not call you out during the night +when they might do it to as much purpose during the day,’ she said +discontentedly, looking at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259">{259}</a></span> the kidney he had hardly touched. ‘You may +be as strong as Hercules, but facing the darkness and cold at your age +does not seem to improve your appetite.’</p> + +<p>She expected him to shake himself up and ask jestingly how old she +thought him, and whether he was not as good yet for night-work as any +young ‘swankie’ among them. Instead, he muttered gloomily, ‘What did it +matter? And it had happened to be the morning and not the night—a fine +enough morning for the season of the year—but though it had been mirk +midnight or in the thick of a snowstorm or a thunderstorm, sickness and +sorrow, misery and shame, did not wait for daylight and fine weather.’</p> + +<p>Then it struck her that she had never seen him look like that before +since she was a child, when she had a dim recollection of the arrival of +a letter which had caused her father’s face first to flush purple and +then to pale to an ashen-grey, and he had drooped his head and not +raised it,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260">{260}</a></span> but gone softly for many a day. She had heard, years +afterwards, when the penalty had been paid twice over, and she was old +enough to understand, that one of her brothers abroad had got into +disgrace, and their father had discharged the debt.</p> + +<p>‘What is it, father?’ Athole now asked plainly, putting her hand in his, +and looking wistfully into his face. ‘I am old enough now to know, +whatever it is. Let me bear it with you!’</p> + +<p>He put her gently from him this time. ‘It is not what you think, lassie. +It is nothing with which we have to do, thank God! Walter is all right +now, and so I trust are Sandy, and Mary and Lizzie’s husbands. It is no +secret of mine, else I dare say I might tell it to you; for, as you say, +you are old enough, and you have a woman’s wit to help a man in a strait +what to do next. But the tale is not mine to tell, as I said before, and +you’re likely to hear it soon enough,’ he ended, with a quick sigh.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261">{261}</a></span></p> + +<p>Athole was dying to hear at once, but she could not force the confidence +which was not his, but some other person’s; she could only beg him not +to vex himself too much by taking other people’s trials upon him. They +were not his; he was not called upon to suffer heavily for them, any +more than he was answerable for other people’s errors.</p> + +<p>‘Ay,’ he said sorrowfully, ‘but lookers-on have painful duties to +perform sometimes. Do you know, Athie, I have had ere now to go to a +friend—one of the oldest and best I had—and tell him something of +which he had not the faintest suspicion, that he had a deadly disease +upon him and his hours were numbered. If he wanted to settle his worldly +affairs and arrange for his family, or to make his peace with his Maker, +the present moment was the time, for the obligations of the case +admitted of no delay. I have had to go to another friend and give him +his choice—a doubtful operation, against which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262">{262}</a></span> flesh and blood +recoiled, or his life lost for a certainty. Yet I would rather undertake +either of these commissions twice over, than face what I have to do +to-day.’</p> + +<p>Her face paled in sympathy with his. Her great grey eyes opened widely; +she did not protest further or ply him with remonstrances which would +have been so many subtle questions; she stooped and kissed him, but said +no more. She watched him go, and went about her ordinary household +duties. But all the time she was praying silently for souls in trouble, +and that every hair of the heads of all the family at Drysdale Hall +might be kept in safety, though the name had never been mentioned in the +conversation, and she could not tell what evil one or all of them had +compassed, or what harm might befall old or young in the household.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263">{263}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX.</a><br><br> +<small>THE SACRIFICE.</small></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Auld Tam</span> was loitering with his son on the terrace at Drysdale Hall—a +favourite place for loiterers and smokers, weather permitting. Though it +was November, it was that rare experience in Scotland, a St. Martin’s +summer. The fields were bare, the trees were leafless, but there was a +blue sky overhead and a pale sunshine all around, having a pathos in it, +because it was so strange and so fleeting. The shadows were long, and +the light fell not upon waving cornfields and rich pasture, full +foliage, the flowers of spring and summer, or the fruit of autumn—but +upon brown earth, faded grass, the thin blades<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264">{264}</a></span> of winter wheat, and +bare boughs more in keeping with the gloom of grey clouds and the biting +breath of gales laden with stinging sleet, for which the world was +ready. It was like an amnesty between summer and winter, a last herald +of peace before the war of the elements, which should rage, with +interludes of sullen and hollow truce, from Michaelmas to Candlemas and +a ‘bittock’ beyond.</p> + +<p>The Drysdale men had returned together, at the elder’s suggestion, +rather early in the afternoon, had reported themselves to the women, and +were lingering for the sunset as if the month had been May.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam’s eyes had taken a long range from the bleachfields to the +boundaries—not merely of the old farm, but of such ‘pendacles’ or odd +bits of crofts as he had added, field by field, to his property during +the last ten years. He had pushed his hat far back on his head, as if +the brim might have interfered with his view. He stood now with his big +massive forehead<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265">{265}</a></span> exposed in the sinking light illuminating the two +faces, as only the setting sun will light them up.</p> + +<p>‘It’s a bonnie pairt,’ said Tam Drysdale, with a long-drawn sigh from a +full heart; ‘a fine bit of country. I’m not sure that mair lines of +bleachfields might not be laid out along the whole course of the Aytoun +Water, for bleaching and dyeing, even in bad times, are more profitable +by a long chalk than farming nowadays. But the land is not ours to do +with as we like.’</p> + +<p>‘Not ours?’ echoed young Tam, puzzled; and then, thinking that he had +caught his father’s meaning, ‘Not all ours, of course. We are not nearly +monarchs of all we survey. Yonder is Gray of Rintoul’s offices, and Sir +James’s land, while all on the other side is the Duke’s. That is the +disadvantage of a wide view. If the prospect had been sufficiently +circumscribed we might have flattered ourselves that we possessed the +earth—so much of it as our eyes rested upon.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266">{266}</a></span></p> + +<p>‘But as it happens none of it is ours, Tam, my man,’ said auld Tam, +speaking low and slow, as he reluctantly rose to the task of breaking +the truth to his son.</p> + +<p>‘What do you mean, father?’ asked young Tam, in fresh perplexity. ‘Times +are not so bad as that comes to. I dare say you are uneasy about the +Pierrots’—referring to a foreign firm with which Drysdale and Son had +considerable dealings that was held in danger in these hazardous times. +‘You should know, but I am persuaded they will pull through, and at the +worst their assets will cover a large proportion of the loss. Then +Mackinlays have come out strong. I cannot fancy your losing heart. Is it +not late in the day to do so? Are there not signs—I heard you pointing +them out yourself the other morning—that trade is on the turn, or will +be before long?’</p> + +<p>Young Tam spoke remonstratingly, encouragingly, and all the time with a +disturbed wonder that he should have to do<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267">{267}</a></span> so to his father, who stood +looking at him fixedly. The sun had gone down now, and there was a +shadow on the face which had been lit up a moment before.</p> + +<p>‘Just so, lad; I have told others that, and I have said the same to +myself. It is true in the main, if that were all; but it mak’s little +odds to them that are powerless to profit by it. Tam, it’s not to +Pierrots’ creditors, or for any other trade obligation, that the land +and the works are forfeit. It is to that offisher lad Mackinnon, who has +never done a hand’s turn, or his father before him, to deserve them.’</p> + +<p>Young Tam stared a second longer, then his eyes fell with his heart, and +that sank like lead. There flashed upon him with painful clearness and +coherency, as in a strong chain of evidence, all the unaccountable +changes in his father’s behaviour lately—his sudden ageing and +listlessness; his fit of restlessness and gaiety, especially unlike the +man; his capricious treatment of Sir Hugo Willoughby; his unseasonable +yacht<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268">{268}</a></span> trip, in which he would allow no friends except his wife and +younger daughter to accompany him. He had appeared to come back from it +better, but that very morning Mrs. Drysdale had dropped some words to +her son which had suggested that his father had said or done something, +in the course of their absence, that had struck her as singular +behaviour.</p> + +<p>All pointed to one conclusion, the most melancholy and terrible, short +of the committal of crime, that can overtake a man.</p> + +<p>‘You mean,’ said young Tam, speaking on the spur of the moment, on a +desperate chance, with a sickly smile and a faltering tongue, ‘that +Mackinnon might have been master here, and that he is still not +unwilling to reap some of the fruits of your success. But there are two +at a bargain-making, if you decidedly object, which I’ve sometimes +doubted lately. Come, father, we are staying out too long, considering +it is November. We shall be having my mother out to look after us +presently. She<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269">{269}</a></span> will appear in her cap, or young Eppie will turn up +bareheaded. The air is getting chill since the sun went down. I think +there will be a touch of frost,’ he finished with a slight shiver.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam looked into his son’s face, which had grown white within the +last few minutes, while a nameless apprehension stared out of the scared +eyes. Tam Drysdale laughed a dry, harsh laugh, which prompted young Tam +instinctively to catch hold of his father’s arm. The grip was not shaken +off; on the contrary, it was yielded to as part of the play, while auld +Tam said plainly:</p> + +<p>‘You think I’m daft, Tam, and I could find it in my heart to wish I were +out of my wits on ae point. For a’ that, I’m as wise as I ever was, or +am ever likely to be. I can show you paper and penned words; though, +puir lad, you’ll rue you ever set een on them. In proof of what I’ve +said, c’wa’ with me, Tam, to my business-room. There’s time enough, or +we’ll mak’ time,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270">{270}</a></span> for when the thing is to be brocht to licht there need +be no further ceremony. It’s business, Tam, of the most serious kind, +and family hours and rules must be set aside for what will wait for no +man. If we’re detained after the dinner-hour, we’ll send and say we’re +engaged, and bid the women go on without us.’</p> + +<p>Young Tam followed his father full of doubt. He asked himself, and was +unable to answer the question, whether this was one of the cunning +delusions of madness? He reminded himself, and hated himself for the +reminder, as if it were basely dishonourable to auld Tam, who had been +master of the situation ever since his son had known him, that +contradiction was forbidden in this case, that to humour and soothe the +patient was the only possible treatment in the meantime.</p> + +<p>But when young Tam was seated at his father’s bidding, as if for a +prolonged stay in the business-room, and saw auld Tam—without bolting +the door to-day—unlock<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271">{271}</a></span> his desk and take out the old papers, the +new-comer felt instinctively, with a fresh shock, that there was method +in the other’s madness, and something tangible in his father’s +incredible assertion.</p> + +<p>It did not take long for young Tam to satisfy himself of the +authenticity of Gavin Mackinnon and Margaret Craig’s marriage contract +and the binding nature of its provision for the heirs. As the young man +read for himself, the full consequences of the settlement became +instantly present to him, and with it a keen, jarring sense of the irony +of fate. In the past he had hastily quarrelled with his lot; he had been +displeased to find himself the son of an employer and a rich man. He had +said often, and believed the words which he spoke, that he doubted the +righteousness of the laws of labour and capital and the distribution of +property—that he did not know what to make of the power over his +fellow-men which would fall to him. It was as if an evil genius had +taken him at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272">{272}</a></span> his word, deprived him of position and possessions, and +freed him from responsibility. But, alas! in the interval which had +elapsed he had grown more than reconciled to circumstances. He had taken +up and learned to like the calling he was now summoned to abjure. He had +begun to build upon it a fine edifice of hope and promise. Young Tam +felt small and silly in addition to being ruined with his father. Would +Athole Murray, who was so quick to see inconsistencies, have mercy upon +him when she knew all? He had been claiming far more than mercy at her +hands within these last few happy months—would he sue in his adversity +for what she had denied him in his prosperity? He hardly thought so, +since he too had his pride, to which he was entitled. It was not pity +that he wanted; he felt to-day as if he could not brook pity, however +generous, least of all from Athole.</p> + +<p>But young Tam had sufficient self-restraint and thought and feeling for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273">{273}</a></span> +others to recognise that this was not the moment for personal regrets, +let them be ever so sharp.</p> + +<p>‘When did you come upon this deed, father?’ the young man asked, +speaking with unconscious stiffness, which sounded like sternness.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam had been standing by the window with his back to his son as he +read. Tam Drysdale turned and looked imploringly in the face of his +questioner.</p> + +<p>‘Upon my soul, Tam,’ he said solemnly, ‘I only came upon the contract by +pure accident, two months syne. You will believe me, and I can bring +testimony to silence the world if it misdoubt me, which is like enough, +on that head. But that does not clear me of wyte [blame]. I ocht to have +had common prudence; I should not have been a hot-headed fule; I ocht +not to have run the risk of sic a hidden mine being sprung on you and +me.’</p> + +<p>‘It was an oversight,’ said young Tam, with generosity in his very +bluntness.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274">{274}</a></span> ‘It might have happened to anybody. It cannot be helped.’</p> + +<p>‘No great time has been lost since the paper was brocht to me—I’ll tell +you how some other day,’ continued auld Tam, still with shamefacedness +and deprecation. ‘I would have spoken sooner, but I had to battle with +the temptation to remain for ever dumb. Oh, laddie, you dinna ken what +it has been!’ he exclaimed passionately. ‘If only truth and honesty +could have let me carry the story to the grave, and spare you and the +lave [rest]!’</p> + +<p>Young Tam got up and wrung his father’s hand.</p> + +<p>‘Never mind us, father; we’ll do well enough. We owe you a good +education and an honest example.’</p> + +<p>‘Thanks to you, Tam, for that word,’ said his father gratefully.</p> + +<p>‘I little thocht,’ he began again ruefully, ‘when I did my best to +beguile you into the business, what a burden I was binding on your +shouthers. A muckle concern<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275">{275}</a></span> that has broken down and will never be +built up again means enough scaith [injury] and scorn to stick to you +for life, with your feet catched in a net from which they’ll never work +themsel’s free.’</p> + +<p>‘Better young shoulders than old to lift the load,’ said auld Tam’s son +loyally; ‘and it will be a mess indeed from which I shall not, with you +to help me, emerge in time. You do not give me half credit—though +you’ve said as much in words, when it comes to the rub—for having +developed some of your business faculty. But this discovery must be seen +to immediately,’ broke off young Tam, with a sort of brisk severity that +had a faint flavour of Dr. Peter in it. ‘I suppose Black and Fettes,’ +naming his father’s lawyers, ‘had better be spoken to before Mackinnon +is told. I don’t know much of him. He is not my style of man. I confess +I have never seen much in him, either good or bad, and I don’t fancy +there is much to see; but people seem to think<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276">{276}</a></span> he is a nice enough +fellow, so far as he goes. He may take into account how hard this is for +you, and how little you were to blame,’ said young Tam, with a return of +the hope which belongs to youth and comes back with a swiftness of +rebound in proportion to the violence of the blow that has laid +confidence low. ‘Mackinnon may be willing to come to terms—were it only +to grant us time. Besides—— ’ young Tam paused. He had the reluctance +to speak on the subject which a young man will show to an elder, which +the best brothers display when it is their sisters’ affairs that are +about to be discussed. ‘You must have seen for some time, father,’ he +went on awkwardly, ‘that Mackinnon is sweet on Clary.’</p> + +<p>‘Or on what he tak’s to be her siller,’ said auld Tam sarcastically.</p> + +<p>‘I believe that he is attached to her, and that she returns the +attachment,’ asserted young Tam.</p> + +<p>‘And you would have us seek to ride out<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277">{277}</a></span> of our difficulties on the +attachment, as you call it, of twa young fules!’ said auld Tarn, in a +mortified voice. ‘Weel, I did think to make it up to the young felly in +that way; but then he was not to ken—nobody was to ken. I never thocht +to be indebted for grace to my dochters’ lauds [lovers].’</p> + +<p>‘No, you would have had it all the other way,’ remarked young Tam, +unable to restrain a smile in spite of the gravity of the situation. ‘I +would not have you take advantage of anybody—I’m sure you know +that—and I would have it all plain and above-board. Lay everything +before him; but do not refuse to let him be just, or even generous. One +can stand a man’s generosity, if it is in the beggar. Do as you would be +done by.’</p> + +<p>‘I daur say you’re richt, Tam,’ granted auld Tam, not without a lurking +profound admiration for his son’s moderation and good judgment, as well +as for his rectitude. ‘Indeed I have no manner of doubt you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278">{278}</a></span> are. You +see what it is to bring a young head to reason out a thing. There are +cases where the young are mair reasonable and liberal than the auld. But +it is queer,’ he added, musing, ‘to be behadden to Gavin Mackinnon’s +son—to gang cap in hand and beg his forbearance.’</p> + +<p>‘That is not the way to put it,’ objected young Tam; but he missed the +opportunity of putting it in any other way, for at that moment a servant +knocked and handed in Eneas Mackinnon’s card.</p> + +<p>Father and son looked at each other with honest eyes, that yet had a +cloud of confusion in them as of two conspirators caught in the act.</p> + +<p>Had he found it all out? Who had told him? Had Sandy Macnab betrayed the +little he knew? Were the Drysdales to be deprived of the grace of coming +forward and producing the deed in his favour, of which nobody except +themselves knew, which had been for some time in their hands, so that +the possessors might have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279">{279}</a></span> destroyed it any day, but which they were now +prepared to bring to light?</p> + +<p>Auld Tam was the first to recover from this additional misfortune, and +to anticipate and demolish any plan his son might have made for +parleying—admitting nothing and denying nothing till Black and Fettes’ +advice was given.</p> + +<p>‘Let him come on,’ said Tam Drysdale sturdily, with something of his old +hardy independence and dash of pugnacity, now that he had made a clean +breast of it to his son. ‘If I have done him wrang, I have done you and +myself a hantle mair, and we’re willing to mak’ reparation to our last +shilling.’</p> + +<p>But the moment Eneas entered it was clear that his intentions were of +the most pacific description—that he was the more agitated of the two +sides, and in a sense the more humbled—that he had come to ask and not +to grant grace.</p> + +<p>In truth, the Lieutenant had at last screwed up his courage to put an +end to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280">{280}</a></span> the state of wretched suspense and perplexity in which he had +been living—to propose for Claribel Drysdale to her father, knowing all +the time with the most excruciating matter-of-factness of conviction, +how little the proposal was worth in a mercenary light.</p> + +<p>It was a proof of the pitch to which Eneas’s nerves were strung that the +circumstance of auld Tam’s not being alone, but in the company of his +son, in place of affording the suitor a welcome if somewhat cowardly +excuse to defer the cruel ordeal of the suit to another day, only +spurred him on to take the leap from which there was no returning. The +desperateness of the position lent the ‘heavy swell’ calmness, so that +it was with a certain dignity approaching to haughtiness that Eneas +began, after an ordinary preamble on the weather:</p> + +<p>‘If you will allow me a few words, Mr. Drysdale—I shall not detain you +long. I have admired Miss Drysdale ever since I <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281">{281}</a></span>knew her, though I was +aware—— ’</p> + +<p>Here he was summarily interrupted. Many a time had Eneas Mackinnon +pictured to himself, with all the anguish of a shy, proud man, the +details of that interview. How the rich, self-made man whom Eneas +coveted for his father-in-law, to whose homespunness the wooer was fully +alive, whom he could not acquit of unvarnished purse-pride, would, in +spite of the recent alteration in his behaviour, and notwithstanding all +Claribel had said in her father’s defence, meet the advances of the +penniless lover with unbearable scorn and contumely.</p> + +<p>But Eneas had never gone so far as to imagine that he would be +peremptorily stopped in his little speech with ‘Not another word, sir! I +will not hear another word!’ or that young Tam, who knew the world, was +college-bred, and like other people, except that he had the reputation +of being a Radical, should instantly back his father with an imperative +‘Yes, Mackinnon, for your own sake, for all our sakes,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282">{282}</a></span> be silent till +you know what you are about.’</p> + +<p>Eneas Mackinnon got up from the chair which had been offered to him.</p> + +<p>‘If you will not so much as hear what I have to say, there is indeed +nothing to be done,’ he said, roused to indignation by the incredible +treatment he was receiving. ‘But you will pardon me if I tell you that I +think a little courtesy is due to a gentleman and an officer in her +Majesty’s service, who has done nothing to disgrace his birth and +position, though he is a poor man. I owe it also both to myself and to +Miss Drysdale, who I am certain would not thank me for any reserve on +this point, to let you know that it is not without warrant from her—— +’</p> + +<p>‘Haud your tongue, you deevil, when you’re telled,’ cried auld Tam still +more vehemently and unceremoniously, ‘or it will be the waur for you! +Can you not tak’ a hint? Will you not let us leave you the freedom of +choice till you hear all?’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283">{283}</a></span></p> + +<p>Eneas was confounded and disgusted. He was fain to hide his discomfiture +and escape from further outrage. He could only make a slight bow, which +was a tacit relinquishment of all future intercourse with Claribel +Drysdale’s father and brother—dear as she was to him—and move to the +door. But Tam Drysdale was again before him.</p> + +<p>‘Ne’er a fit shall you steer till you listen to my story, since you’ve +come in at the nick of time with yours. I’ll tak’ Black and Fettes into +my ain hands, Tam, or see them hanged! but Lieutenant Mackinnon shall +ken what he’s about, before he’s an hour aulder. He’ll not come here any +longer courtin’ an’ speerin’ Clary, without first hearing what her +father has cost him—unawares, sir—unawares. Let him see the contract, +Tam, and then we’ll hear whether he sings to a different tune.’</p> + +<p>‘Don’t misjudge us, Mackinnon,’ said young Tam apologetically. ‘My +father has been very much put about lately, and,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284">{284}</a></span> I can tell you, so may +everybody be when all is known. But if you will look at this paper you +will see that it is in your interest, and to prevent your prejudicing +it, in ignorance of what you are doing, that we are acting in this +manner.’</p> + +<p>‘Do you ken the deed, Mr. Mackinnon?’ asked auld Tam a little more +composedly, but yet worked up into a state of excitement which kept him +from being silent.</p> + +<p>‘No,’ said Eneas, a little sulkily, still feeling himself an insulted +individual, a victim of a poor gentleman, yet not without a dim +comprehension that the Drysdales meant better by him in their strange +behaviour than he could understand, or perhaps was entitled to expect.</p> + +<p>‘It is your faither and mither’s marriage contract,’ said auld Tam, +coming to the point at once. ‘Did you ever hear tell o’t?’</p> + +<p>‘Yes,’ said Eneas, in increased surprise; ‘I have heard my aunts in St. +Mungo’s Square speak of it many a time. We did<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285">{285}</a></span> not know what had become +of it; but I never thought it was of any consequence.’</p> + +<p>‘You were wrang, then,’ was Tarn Drysdale’s short rejoinder; ‘but read +it for yoursel’ noo, when you’ve the chance, and see what you have to do +with it.’</p> + +<p>Thus urged, Eneas Mackinnon stood still and read the paper put into his +hands, while the two Tams watched keenly his handsome, usually impassive +face. It had been working with various emotions before he began to read, +and as he read on it was hard to say what of rage or triumph or +compunction passed over this page of quivering flesh and blood, while +the truth dawned upon Eneas, as it had dawned upon others in turn, that +he had been during the whole course of his life unwittingly defrauded of +his due—by his own father and mother in the first place, and by +Claribel’s father in the second.</p> + +<p>With the knowledge came also the realization to the Lieutenant—a +realization not the less certain that it was a dull,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286">{286}</a></span> vague pain as +yet—of how much he had suffered, what galling poverty for a man in his +station he had endured, how cheerless had been his prospects, and how +their hopelessness had early broken his spirit and crushed the life in +him. And he was standing in the presence of the man who had ‘unawares,’ +as he asserted, flourished on the unfair acquisition of Eneas’s +birthright, whose son and daughters had succeeded to every advantage +inherited by a rich man’s children.</p> + +<p>Moreover, this rich man—this old servant of Gavin Mackinnon’s—had +until lately treated Eneas with hardly veiled contempt, so that he had +come into Tam Drysdale’s company, half an hour before, in almost abject +dread of his withering scorn.</p> + +<p>The paper rustled in the young man’s grasp, and he bent his head over +it, till young Tam began to ask himself, and to telegraph with his eyes +to his father—was it quite fair after all thus to take their natural +enemy by surprise, though he had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287">{287}</a></span> stepped in upon them unexpectedly, and +to subject him, while he was unprepared with the means of baffling their +observation, to so searching a scrutiny?</p> + +<p>Suddenly Eneas Mackinnon looked up and put down the paper.</p> + +<p>‘Well?’ he questioned coldly, as if he were the very incarnation of +caution.</p> + +<p>‘Weel,’ echoed Tam impatiently, in answer to the enigmatical remark, +‘are you satisfied that your mither’s property is yours—less the +purchase-money—in spite of all that is come and gone?’</p> + +<p>‘It might have been mine, you mean, Mr. Drysdale,’ corrected Eneas +calmly. ‘It was sold and bought before I was born.’</p> + +<p>‘But dinna you see that the bargain, for which there was no title, is +null and void?’ demanded Tam almost querulously.</p> + +<p>‘In law, perhaps, yes; in honour, no. My father had the purchase-money; +you bought the place in good faith and made the most of it, which we +should never<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288">{288}</a></span> have done. There is an end of the matter.’</p> + +<p>‘Well, you’re a gentleman and no mistake,’ said auld Tam, with sudden +conviction.</p> + +<p>‘I hope so,’ said the Lieutenant, with his ordinary quietness; ‘not that +I have given any great example of it here’—he hastened to guard against +exaggeration and bathos, which are the peculiar horror of men of his +stamp. ‘I might, indeed, resent losing a chance in trade which has been +a splendid one in your hands; but it was lost mainly, on the face of the +transaction, by my father and mother’s blindness, and I have not been so +wise on my own account as to take it upon me to condemn the blunders of +my progenitors. Besides, I could not have made a kirk or a mill of the +works which have prospered so well with you. As it happens I’m in the +army, for better, for worse; and if I’m little good as a soldier, I +should do still less in any other character. What would you have?’ He +finished as if he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289">{289}</a></span> would say, with a curious proud sincerity, ‘Where is +there any particular merit in what I’m doing? and I’m not going to take +credit for what I don’t deserve.’</p> + +<p>But both auld Tam and young Tam contradicted him.</p> + +<p>‘I’m proud to know you, Mr. Mackinnon, sir,’ insisted Tam Drysdale, in +perfect earnestness and simplicity. ‘Ay, though I’m free to own I’ve +bocht the knowledge at a heavy cost. You’re come of a gude auld stock, +and you do it honour. Eh! Clary was aye a wise lass—I micht have kenned +that.’</p> + +<p>At these words the Lieutenant softened.</p> + +<p>‘I am glad you think so, sir,’ he said, and he even gave a little +nervous laugh. ‘Will you tell her so? Will you prove your faith by your +deeds?’</p> + +<p>‘That will I,’ answered auld Tam fervently.</p> + +<p>But young Tam was waiting to speak.</p> + +<p>‘I trust, Mackinnon, you give us credit for being, to the best of our +ability, honest<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290">{290}</a></span> men. As such it is impossible for us to let the +business rest here. It must be put into the lawyers’ hands. If a +compromise can be effected, well and good; we shall be only too +thankful, for I need hardly point out to you that, to men in business, +anything else would be about the greatest misfortune that could befall +them. If—after matters are settled,’ young Tam stammered, for he too +had to struggle with mingled pride and better feelings, ‘you should +still wish to be connected with us, I for one will be very glad.’</p> + +<p>‘I thought matters were settled,’ said Eneas half loftily, half +languidly, ‘when Mr. Drysdale was good enough to praise your sister for +wisdom in the most foolish thing she has ever done. But if my future +relations will think the best of me,’ he added in an easier, more +friendly tone—‘I hope they will not be disappointed—and if they will +offer me a welcome, I need not say I am greatly obliged to them.’</p> + +<p>‘Say no more,’ interposed auld Tam.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291">{291}</a></span> ‘Clary has known best—we have +great cause to endorse her opinion and thank her for it. I’ll tell her +so with my ain lips; and although she has a mind of her ain, as a lassie +so by ordinar’ sensible has a richt to have, she’ll be pleased to hear +her father say so. Her mother will neither be to haud nor bind; and +little Eppie, who has been looking at me with beseeching een for weeks +past, will be as prood as gin you were Sir Hugie, whose turn will come +next. There’s the denner-bell; you’ll dine with us, sir—of course you +will. Dress? What’s dress among friends? The very Queen on the throne +looks ower’t on occasions. Forbye, you offishers’ worst coats have an +air that is wanting in we ceety men’s best.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292">{292}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL.</a><br><br> +<small>A NICE CALCULATION.</small></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Dr. Peter</span> had <i>carte blanche</i> to dine at Drysdale Hall on every day of +the year. If his plate was not always laid for him, it was ready to be +brought when he wanted it. He might even come in at any stage of the +dinner, and in spite of his protestations have the soup and fish +recalled for his special benefit, while the rest of the company waited +cheerfully, and the success of the other courses was risked without a +groan, so heartily was he welcomed. But he had certainly never +contemplated breaking bread with Tam Drysdale this day.</p> + +<p>The truth is, there are more things than<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293">{293}</a></span> business which will not tarry +till a man has his way. Among these matters are the physical ills that +flesh is heir to. The popular poor man’s doctor, in a crowded district, +is pretty sure to be intercepted and turned aside from his goal, at the +very time that he is most anxious to avoid interruption and keep faith +with himself. Dr. Peter durst not defer his errand to another day, and +so he brought it to the dinner-table at Drysdale Hall, where he found +the little pleasant stir and excitement which betokens a happy family +event on the eve of its fulfilment. The very servants were sensible that +something of the kind was going on. Though Mr. Mackinnon had dined +frequently of late with the Drysdales, the subordinates had an +impression that this off-hand dinner was not like the other dinners, but +was a prelude to enlarged family gatherings without end.</p> + +<p>There were bright faces round the table, among which Claribel’s showed a +calm<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294">{294}</a></span> superiority to girlish tremors, while the Lieutenant’s was equally +free from all save an air of relief, and a mild basking in the rays of +his sun.</p> + +<p>Young Tam’s looked the most pre-occupied face, with an occasional knit +of the brows as if he had mental nuts to crack.</p> + +<p>The atmosphere round auld Tam was that of rest for the time, not of +warfare over; for he knew the battle was to re-commence to-morrow, a +tough enough contest still, to render it doubtful to which side victory +might incline. But when had auld Tam shrunk from a tussle with fortune, +or when had he feared to be beaten unless where he was hedged about with +such fatal casualties and inopportune disasters that no man could have +overcome them? But the hedge was broken down, and the rough way made +clear again, and what man could do he would, with his son Tam fighting +by his side. Only to-day, Tam Drysdale had a breathing-space to recover +from the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295">{295}</a></span> weariness which had threatened to be deadly. It was rapidly +passing away before the first breath of open air, light, and liberty, +when a man speaks out what ought to have been proclaimed on the +housetop, but has lain hidden in secret places; when he consents to pay +his penalty like a man, and reviving heart and hope answer instantly to +the proper treatment of the disease, as the steel to the magnet, as the +green earth to the sun and rain.</p> + +<p>Dr. Peter did not know what to make of the scene. How could auld Tam sit +like a patriarch crowned with honour and well-doing, considering what +was on his conscience? How had he the face, the heart to entertain his +victim? Nay, it was plain that Tam Drysdale intended to perpetrate a +further piece of iniquity by allowing Eneas Mackinnon to marry Claribel, +by making him one of the family, a sharer in their prosperity and +adversity, in order to shut his mouth if there was ever any suspicion of +the truth.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_296">{296}</a></span></p> + +<p>Did young Tam know anything of the unpardonable tampering with law and +justice? Could he have been suborned and seduced into crooked paths? He +was more silent and glummer than in his hobbledehoy days. He looked +harassed, almost careworn. Here was another stab to Dr. Peter, for he +had been fond of that lad, fonder than he knew. Young Tam too! Dr. +Peter’s righteous soul sickened with repugnance and shame. Auld Tam +noticed that his friend was not himself, and, as Athole had done in the +morning, pressed him with sympathetic inquiries after patients who were +in a better case than their doctor was.</p> + +<p>If Dr. Peter had but retained sufficient faith in auld Tam and in his +Maker, a good many hours of wretchedness and useless mortification would +have been saved. Peter Murray might have known that Tam Drysdale’s long +life of reverence and integrity would not go for nothing, that it is not +such as he who make shipwreck<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_297">{297}</a></span> of conscience and character, and trample +religion and morals under foot, midway in their career. He might have +guessed that if auld Tam slipped and fell, it would only be to rise +again and mount to greater heights, though it were through the valley of +humiliation.</p> + +<p>If Dr. Peter had but known it, when he was seen to pass the dining-room +window, auld Tam’s eyes had sparkled with eager satisfaction. He had +murmured to his son:</p> + +<p>‘It’s like a play, Tam, ilka player dropping in at the precise moment to +fit into the performance, to hear what concerns him, and act his part in +the drammy.’</p> + +<p>He was in reality burning for the ladies to be gone, to leave him and +the two young men and Dr. Peter, who had his interest in the +business—with regard to which he was about to be enlightened—to go +into it afresh. The opening it up to young Tam had been like the letting +out of waters, and auld Tam, having liberated the flood, was not +disposed to try the vain experiment of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_298">{298}</a></span> damming it up again. For that +matter, he laboured under a fit of reaction, with its tendency to rush +from one extreme to another, to shout in the market-place what he had +hitherto refrained from whispering in the ear.</p> + +<p>At Tam Drysdale’s first word a load was lifted from Dr. Peter’s +mind—the horrible load of being compelled to call a friend to account +for a miserable departure from duty—and if he would not turn from the +error of his ways to denounce him to the world. It was as if he had +awakened in an instant from a bad dream, when a whole phantasmagoria of +evil motives and unrighteous deeds vanished in the twinkling of an eye. +Dr. Peter was ready to thank God and take courage; nay more, to feel +affronted because he had done his friend a wrong which it would be +impossible to repair by immediately owning it. To tell auld Tam what Dr. +Peter had thought of him for the better part of a day would be to add +insult to injury. In all their future intercourse<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_299">{299}</a></span> there would always be +a confidence, shyly withheld on the one side, though auld Tam admitted +frankly on the other:</p> + +<p>‘I was sorely tempet, Peter, if you will believe me, to hide all +knowledge of Gavin Mackinnon’s contract. You could never credit how I +was tempet, God help me! I dinna ken at this moment how the balance +might have turned, if it had not been that the twa Eppies were as true +as steel, and that I felt that I could not look my laddie Tam in the +face again if I gaed for the rest of my life with a lee in my richt +hand.’</p> + +<p>It was Dr. Peter’s punishment for his want of faith that he had to +remain silent, hanging his fine head somewhat at this appeal. He would +never mention on what errand he had come so opportunely to Drysdale Hall +that evening.</p> + +<p>Later on Dr. Peter cut his knot of the thread in the tangled web without +difficulty:</p> + +<p>‘You can demand back from me my father’s share in the purchase-money you +paid for the works. Good. Then I can<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_300">{300}</a></span> come upon your future +son-in-law—is it not so, Tam?—for his father’s having misled mine as +to the legality of the sale. In addition, I can try to prove that you +owe me a share of your profits during these intervening years, in +proportion to my father’s share in the concern, and to the state of the +works and business when you got them; and you can retaliate by showing +that you found the plant falling to pieces, and the dyeing trade at +Drysdale Haugh on its last legs—a ticklish contention, which might be +very profitable to the lawyers engaged in it, but for the rest of the +people who had to do with the suit, I take it the thing would be about +square to begin with.’</p> + +<p>Sir Hugo Willoughby and Guy Horsburgh looked in during the evening—to +complete the <i>dramatis personæ</i>, auld Tam kept telling himself, though +only Sir Hugo had an interest, and that an indirect one, in the question +which was so momentous to the master of Drysdale Hall. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_301">{301}</a></span> young +gentleman had paid his court to little Eppie, believing her to be a rich +man’s daughter. Sir Hugo’s lady-mother—and doubtless the rest of his +great relations would follow her example—had consented to put up with +the origin of Eppie and her fortune; but what if the fortune +disappeared, and the bonnie lass had only her face to depend upon for +their favour? What if her father, in place of being honoured in the +city, had been covered with disgrace—a man who had held land and works +without a warrant, and had so recklessly traded with them that he had +ended in becoming bankrupt, to the ruin of many better men than himself? +Sir Hugo had still a risk to run, but he might take his chance. He would +no longer be able to say that he had been beguiled into an alliance with +Eppie Drysdale and with trade under false pretences.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam felt so convinced that everything was leading up to a +<i>dénouement</i>, he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_302">{302}</a></span> took an opportunity to speak a few words aside to his +last visitor.</p> + +<p>‘I’ll give you your answer to-morrow, Sir Hugie, if that will please +you. I grant you’ve been patient, and I thank you for it, to what must +have seemed to you rank tyranny and a speerit of contradiction. But +you’ll ken better before you’re mony hours aulder. I’ll lay my reasons +before you, and you’ll admit I had cause for what I did.’</p> + +<p>‘I have no doubt, sir, you acted for the best,’ said Sir Hugo, with the +most anxious deference, trembling lest he should spoil the propitious +moment by any false step. ‘I am sure your reasons are excellent, if only +you will entertain—— ’</p> + +<p>‘Your proposal, and give you my younger dochter,’ auld Tam finished the +sentence. ‘Some things are worth waiting for, and the desire of your +heart and a gude wife are among them. Can you blame me that I’m loth to +lose her? You’ve some notion of what kind of dochter she’s been, and let +me tell you, Sir Hugie, that’s the best<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_303">{303}</a></span> assurance of the wife she’ll +mak’ to him that gets her—I do not say to you, for there’s mony a slip +‘tween the cup and the lip. If she’s sweet to you, what do you think she +maun be to me, who dandled her in my arms—the bonniest and best of +weans [babies] from her cradle. How do you think Drysdale Hall will look +to me and mother when there’s ne’er a young lass to set it out and keep +it cheery? You young fellies that come seeking your own ends think +little of the blank you leave behind you when you carry the day.’</p> + +<p>‘Forgive me, sir, I do think of it,’ protested Sir Hugo. ‘I know that I +am selfish, and that I ask far more than I deserve; but if there is +anything I can do—— ’</p> + +<p>‘Mak’ her happy, man,’ said auld Tam, ‘if she’s ever yours, for there +are some craws to be pu’d yet between you and me. Mind that it was your +will to raise her to your state—if so be she is raised. I’ve no fear +but that she’ll make a gentle leddy, for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_304">{304}</a></span> she’s that already. Then if +you’re gude to her, as a man should be to the mate he has chosen out of +all the world, her mother and me will bless and not ban you.’</p> + +<p>There was a little music and a great deal of talk in the warmth and +brightness—for auld Tam went clean against the modern vagary of fashion +which prefers semi-darkness to light—and in the flowery fragrance of +the Drysdale Hall drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Drysdale would have willingly foregone her nightly game of bézique, +but Eppie would not suffer the omission. Perhaps she had a premonition +that her mother would soon have to relinquish that and many another +kindly custom dear from old use and wont, doubly dear from mother love. +The sole change young Eppie would consent to make was that Sir Hugo +might join the game; and in order not to render the privilege too +peculiar, she invited his friend Guy Horsburgh to be the fourth in the +quartette—a piece of good breeding on account of which Sir<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_305">{305}</a></span> Hugo, with +all his virtues, was not above being piqued for the twentieth part of a +minute.</p> + +<p>Clary was at the piano playing occasionally, with Eneas Mackinnon to +turn over her music and talk to her in the intervals.</p> + +<p>Auld Tam and Dr. Peter sat on a couch, saying little, simply enjoying +the smiling peace of the scene. Tam Drysdale leant back, and had his +arms crossed above his head in an easy unconventional attitude, while he +stared fitfully into the fire. No contrast could be greater than the air +the room presented to the agitated conversation between the father and +the son on the terrace in the afternoon, or the breathless explanation +with Eneas Mackinnon in the business-room afterwards.</p> + +<p>After the storm comes the calm, but one never knows when a bomb-shell +may not fall and burst amidst the most tranquil surroundings.</p> + +<p>The author of the disturbance on this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_306">{306}</a></span> occasion was young Tam, who had +been sitting buried in an easy-chair, busy with a paper and pencil, as +if he were torturing himself and his neighbours by working out a +succession of double acrostics. Suddenly he rose with a flushed face and +generally excited mien. He walked across to his father, holding up the +sum of his calculations.</p> + +<p>‘Father,’ he said, ‘when your father’s cousin Drysdale, of Drysdale +Haugh, died in Scotland, and his niece by marriage and adoption, Mrs. +Craig, died at Calcutta—— ’</p> + +<p>Tam put the speaker away with a half-peremptory, half-reproachful +gesture.</p> + +<p>‘Hooly [stop]! Tam, we’ve had enough of this for one day. Mind, the +upshot of the story is not so new to some of us as to you. It must be +gone into again presently, and every blessed thing sifted to the bottom. +There’s no help for that. But I think it is neither judicious nor +altogether ceevil to Lieutenant Mackinnon yonder, who has behaved like a +perfect gentleman,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_307">{307}</a></span> for you, while in his company—though he’s no +heeding—to keep hammering on at the unfortunate transaction in which +his father and mother were the maist to blame, and to rake up the +slender nature of the connection between his grandmother and auld +Drysdale.’</p> + +<p>‘But I must speak, and the sooner the better,’ cried young Tam, not even +troubling in his excitement to modulate his voice. ‘If the matter be +gone into, as it certainly will if I have a voice in it, it cannot be +done on mistaken premises. There is something else wrong which must be +seen to instantly. You know the period of time that intervened between +the deaths of the uncle and niece.’</p> + +<p>‘It was some twa hours,’ said auld Tam, slowly and in a stupefied way, +for the events of the day were proving too much for him, while Dr. Peter +sat bolt upright and looked all alive. Then auld Tam shook himself up +and spoke more definitely; ‘auld Drysdale died here—that is, at +Drysdale<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_308">{308}</a></span> Haugh—when the knock was chappin’ twal’, on the 11th of June, +as I’ve heard tell. Mrs. Craig died on the same day, at Calcutta, at twa +in the afternoon—twa hours later; and I’ve been assured that twa +minutes langer breath for her would have been enough to constitute her +infant her heir.’</p> + +<p>‘Ay, but I am prepared to show that the advantage is all on the other +side. The question is not one of law, but of science, and nobody has +seen it in that light. Allowance has not been made for the difference of +time in different longitudes. As you count hours by the earth’s course +round the sun, Mrs. Craig died about an hour and a half before instead +of two hours after her uncle.’</p> + +<p>‘Gude preserve us!’ exclaimed Tam, while Dr. Peter started to his feet +with an ear-piercing ‘Whew!’ that caused Eneas Mackinnon at the piano to +raise his eyebrows, Clary beside him to shrug her shoulders, and the +whole bézique party<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_309">{309}</a></span> to pause and look round for an instant.</p> + +<p>‘You dinna mean it,’ said auld Tam almost piteously. ‘Is it so?’ He +turned helplessly to Dr. Peter. ‘Are the tables turned? Was I so lang +kept out of my ain? Have I been twice wranged and never the wrangdoer?’</p> + +<p>‘I make little doubt of it. I believe young Tam is right, but I must go +over the calculation for myself—it is easy enough—if you will give me +a minute. To think the difference of hemispheres never occurred to the +lawyers who administered the will! You see what it is to have a son a +student—the first in his class in mathematics. Chemistry is not +everything, eh, Tam?’</p> + +<p>‘I wish he had spoken suner,’ said auld Tam, with a groan over the +anguish from which he might have been spared.</p> + +<p>‘The calculation never occurred to me any more than to the lawyers who +sat upon the will,’ said young Tam modestly.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_310">{310}</a></span> ‘The astronomical +reckoning is, as Dr. Peter says, plain and simple enough. Every +schoolboy is taught to make it, though he may not be able to put the +knowledge into practice at a moment’s notice. I did not think of the old +will, which I never saw till to-day.’</p> + +<p>‘Ca’ him here,’ said Tam, indicating the ‘offisher lad.’ ‘I’ll do to him +as I would be done by.’</p> + +<p>But Eneas Mackinnon did not receive the last news as he had received the +first. He reddened violently at the idea of his mother’s having entered +upon and disposed of an inheritance which was never hers. He recoiled +from the prospect of being made out auld Tam’s debtor to an +overwhelmingly hopeless extent, instead of Tam’s being proved +his—Eneas’s—debtor to an amount which the young man’s generosity and +his love for Claribel rendered easily redeemable. His pride and his good +feeling had been alike flattered by the power, rare with him, of +granting an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_311">{311}</a></span> amnesty and dispensing favours. His slow-working intellect +could not readily grasp the astronomical calculation, easy as it was, +which was said to overturn the will. Fortune, if not the Drysdales, +appeared to be playing strange tricks upon him. It was a return to the +old story, and something worse. He was reduced, in the course of a few +hours, to his former detested condition of genteel poverty and absence +of any chance of independence and moderate prosperity. Added to it, he +was already loaded with huge money obligations to auld Tam Drysdale, +which Eneas could no more think of retrieving, in the natural term of +his life, than he could look forward to receiving the baton of a +field-marshal. Auld Tam was wise in his generation. He might not essay +what was equivalent to the vain task of taking breeches from a +breechless Highlander. He might cancel Eneas’s mountain-load of +obligations, but neither the obligations nor the cancelling formed a +fitting preparation<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_312">{312}</a></span> dim recollection of another extraordinary factor in +this medley of law and justice.</p> + +<p>‘I’ve a notion,’ he said, ‘that if property is held for the space of +forty years or thereabouts, by other than the rightful owners, through +some mischance—like this of mistaken time—then a law called ‘the law +of proscription’ steps in and bestows the property on the holder, +forbidding a restoration to rightful heirs that leaps over more than one +generation. It is upwards of forty years since Mrs. Craig’s child’s +title to Drysdale Haugh was made out, and that title has never been +challenged, to the best of my knowledge, till now. On the other hand, +Mrs. Mackinnon did not keep the place in her possession for much more +than half the specified time. She sold it to the lawful heir. I cannot +tell what to make of it, Tam; it beats me.’</p> + +<p>It was Clary who settled the question when she came over and asked what +they were all talking over so earnestly, and was told as well as so +complicated a story could<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_313">{313}</a></span> be conveyed in a few words. She thought a +little, and then gave her decision without hesitation:</p> + +<p>‘Let well alone, let matters be as they are: my father could not, if he +wished it, exact from Mr. Mackinnon a forfeit which no officer without a +large private fortune could pretend to pay. And what could Mr. Mackinnon +make of the Drysdale Haugh works, if the law were to decree them to him, +while the farm without the dyeing and calico-printing would not, in the +present state of agriculture, support the old farmhouse, if it could be +restored, stripped of the modern mansion. Let everything remain as it +is. I take it for granted,’ she ended, looking up with a little smile at +Eneas, ‘the law will not put us all in prison, as it did your aunts in +St. Mungo’s Square, because we decline to avail ourselves of its costs +and surprises and delays.’</p> + +<p>While successions were thus bandied, fortunes turned upside down, and +lives reversed, the bézique-players, in utter un<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_314">{314}</a></span>dim recollection of +another extraordinary factor in this medley of law and justice.</p> + +<p>‘I’ve a notion,’ he said, ‘that if property is held for the space of +forty years or thereabouts, by other than the rightful owners, through +some mischance—like this of mistaken time—then a law called ‘the law +of proscription’ steps in and bestows the property on the holder, +forbidding a restoration to rightful heirs that leaps over more than one +generation. It is upwards of forty years since Mrs. Craig’s child’s +title to Drysdale Haugh was made out, and that title has never been +challenged, to the best of my knowledge, till now. On the other hand, +Mrs. Mackinnon did not keep the place in her possession for much more +than half the specified time. She sold it to the lawful heir. I cannot +tell what to make of it, Tam; it beats me.’</p> + +<p>It was Clary who settled the question when she came over and asked what +they were all talking over so earnestly, and was told as well as so +complicated a story could<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_315">{315}</a></span> be conveyed in a few words. She thought a +little, and then gave her decision without hesitation:</p> + +<p>‘Let well alone, let matters be as they are: my father could not, if he +wished it, exact from Mr. Mackinnon a forfeit which no officer without a +large private fortune could pretend to pay. And what could Mr. Mackinnon +make of the Drysdale Haugh works, if the law were to decree them to him, +while the farm without the dyeing and calico-printing would not, in the +present state of agriculture, support the old farmhouse, if it could be +restored, stripped of the modern mansion. Let everything remain as it +is. I take it for granted,’ she ended, looking up with a little smile at +Eneas, ‘the law will not put us all in prison, as it did your aunts in +St. Mungo’s Square, because we decline to avail ourselves of its costs +and surprises and delays.’</p> + +<p>While successions were thus bandied, fortunes turned upside down, and +lives reversed, the bézique-players, in utter un<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_316">{316}</a></span>consciousness of what +was going on in the same room, proceeded with their play—shuffling and +dealing their cards, pairing their couples, running up their rows of +figures. It was as if the four were typical players, engaged in the same +game of life which was being enacted in another form, without their +knowledge, by their side, and that the counters in reality were human +heads and hearts.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_317">{317}</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI.</a><br><br> +<small>ATHOLE MURRAY SKETCHES A MODERN FUGGEREI—THE MISS MACKINNONS’ +ULTIMATUM.</small></h2> + +<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">Athole Murray</span> did not see her father for the next twenty-four hours. He +lingered at Drysdale Hall till it was late, not returning to Barley +Riggs till she had reluctantly retired—ostensibly to rest, actually to +pass a sleepless night. She would fain have sat up for him, but did not +like to disobey his orders on this night of all others. He had to start +by break of day to attend a professional consultation which was to be +held at some distance. He was detained longer than he expected, took the +round of his patients on his way home, and did not reappear at Barley<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_318">{318}</a></span> +Riggs till Athole’s tea-hour, when he walked in almost simultaneously +with auld and young Tam.</p> + +<p>In the interval Athole had got sufficient time to brood over what she +had made out of his conversation the previous day, with the conclusion +she had leaped to of calamity, not unmingled with disgrace, hanging over +the Drysdales. She could not fathom it, but the impression was there. +When the blow fell, would her relations be the same to young Tam? All +her heart was melting to him to atone for the injustice of fortune and +the injury inflicted by another, though she knew not by whom. She had +been fond of auld Tam. She could not lightly think evil of him, though +she had been sorely perplexed by his conduct lately; but at least young +Tam was blameless, honourable, and trustworthy—she could swear to that. +She felt all at once impelled to comfort him, with a soft but +irresistible impulse which no force could stay.</p> + +<p>While she was in this mood the three<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_319">{319}</a></span> men walked in upon her, full of +their strange story of a marriage contract, and a last will, of lost +documents, and overlooked problems of science, restitution, and +compromise. The speakers were all eager, and, as it seemed to her in her +shaken spirits, all rejoicing to the verge of exultation. They were so +bent on telling her their story, and so sure of her sympathy, that they +did not miss it when it failed to flow forth as it ought to have done; +nobody said, as he might have said, ‘You are not answering—you are not +glad; what has come over you?’</p> + +<p>Young Tam would have been the last to do it, for he was the most carried +away, the gayest. He seemed taken out of himself, as he stood there like +a victor in the flush of victory, to whom all must yield.</p> + +<p>And do what Athole would, she who was still thrilling with the sense of +what she had almost made up her mind to be to him if he were the loser, +who was dragged two ways between a sense of blank disap<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_320">{320}</a></span>pointment at the +instantaneous fading away of the vision which in a night had grown so +sweet and a feeling of intense pride and pleasure for his sake, that his +hand had cut the knot and rescued auld Tam from his strait, could not +for her life resist young Tam’s new attitude as a conqueror. Her eyes +fell before his. Her colour went and came; she could not laugh, she +could not speak, she did not know how long she would be able to breathe. +Her hands trembled so that she had to clasp them tightly to keep them +still. She felt the ground slipping from beneath her feet.</p> + +<p>Her father was the first to remark upon her silence.</p> + +<p>‘Is there anything the matter with you, Athie?’ inquired Dr. Peter, like +a grey-headed <i>enfant terrible</i>, and then he wound up with the <i>mal à +propos</i> remark, ‘You are not like yourself.’</p> + +<p>Auld Tam tapped his friend on the arm:</p> + +<p>‘Come awa’, man; we are twa ower mony. Leave her to a younger doctor.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_321">{321}</a></span> +Dod! did you never suspect that the wind blew in that quarter?’ in +answer to the look of bewilderment, enlightenment, tender regret, and +unselfish satisfaction with which his hint was met. ‘There is nane so +blind as a clever, honourable gentleman.’</p> + +<p>When the pair were beyond hearing, auld Tam had his joke out of the +situation.</p> + +<p>‘You’ll never have the face to object now, Peter, when you’ve given the +lad every encouragement—treated him as if he had been a son of your +ain, from the time he went after your lassie.’</p> + +<p>‘I cannot leave my father, and I’ll never be able to look your mother in +the face. You know she cannot abide me,’ protested Athole to young Tam.</p> + +<p>‘You will not be far from your father,’ he told her; ‘and as for my +mother, when she sees that you give me more than my due, and finds what +you can do for her son, she will not know how highly to prize you. +Besides, you are going to make up to her for the loss of Clary and +Eppie.’</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_322">{322}</a></span></p> + +<p>‘Are you so mad as to think I shall ever be like little Eppie—like Lady +Willoughby of Willoughby Court—to your mother?’</p> + +<p>‘You will fill your own place as young Mrs. Tam, to whom my mother will +pay all respect. I say, Athole, you can afford to be second best with +her. You are the style of woman who can consent to that.’</p> + +<p>If Athole was likely to be second best with mother Eppie, there was +every indication of her holding her own with auld Tam, when before he +left she sketched for him a Glasgow version of the Augsburg Fuggerei, a +Drysdale quarter of St. Mungo’s city, built expressly for the +accommodation of the working classes, which he vowed if he rose above +trade troubles he would rear as a memorial of his deliverance from a +great temptation and a great downfall.</p> + +<p>‘And young Tam’s initials shall be intertwined with yours, Athole, and +wrocht beneath mine and Eppie’s aboon ilka door.’</p> + +<p>The Lieutenant hesitated whether the two discoveries in relation to the +marriage<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_323">{323}</a></span> contract and the will should be communicated to his aunts. He +was not at all sure how they would take the news. But Claribel advocated +entire openness.</p> + +<p>‘They are entitled to hear,’ she said. ‘Besides, they will only believe +what they like; and they will remain convinced that they did the best +for you and everybody. So far as intentions went, I am sure they are +right.’</p> + +<p>Claribel too proved right, as she generally was.</p> + +<p>‘Didna we tell you about the marriage settlement? And were we not to be +trusted to mak’ everything as siccar as law and auld Dauvit Milne and +that laddie Dalgleish, Teeny Carstairs’ man, could bind them? As for any +story at this time of the day about auld Drysdale’s living longer than +Maggie Craig’s mother, because he was in Scotland and she was in India, +it’s perfect havers on the face o’t—more than that, it’s clean +profanity, as if death couldna travel faster than the earth and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_324">{324}</a></span> sun +either, and do his work as sune here as there. We may dismiss that lee. +No that I’m for a minute evening your worthy father to be a leear, +Clary, my dear,’ Miss Janet condescended to correct herself. ‘Everybody +kens he is a maist respectable man. But men, begging your pardon, +Lieutenant, are simple, and it stands to nature that they will believe +what suits their purpose, though it’s as wild a ferlie as ever set up an +auld ballant. So, Lieutenant, you micht have been a bleacher and dyer in +your ain person instead of an offisher in her Majesty’s service, but I +think you and Clary will agree with me that you’re better as you +are—you’ll allow we did the best for you.’</p> + +<p>‘<span class="lftspc">’</span>Deed did we,’ chimed in Miss Bethia; ‘and now you’ll get your portion +back again, like Joseph—or was it Benjamin?—and Clary here into the +bargain.’</p> + +<p class="fint">THE END.<br><br> +<small>BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.</small></p> + +<hr class="full"> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79373 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/79373-h/images/back.jpg b/79373-h/images/back.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a0d40ea --- /dev/null +++ b/79373-h/images/back.jpg diff --git a/79373-h/images/colophon.png b/79373-h/images/colophon.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8abb72a --- /dev/null +++ b/79373-h/images/colophon.png diff --git a/79373-h/images/cover.jpg b/79373-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f2ba03d --- /dev/null +++ b/79373-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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