‘Mr. Pitwinnoch,’ said the Leddy, on being shown into what she called ‘the bottomless pit o’ his consulting-room,’ where he wrote alone,—‘ye’ll be surprised to see me, and troth ye may think it’s no sma’ instancy that has brought me sae far afield the day; for I hae been sic a lamiter with the rheumateese, that, for a’ the last week, I was little better than a nymph o’ anguish;my banes were as sair as if I had been brayed in a mortar, and shot into Spain. But ye maun know and understand, that I hae a notion to try my luck and fortune in the rowley-powley o’ a law-plea.’
‘Indeed!’ said the lawyer. ‘What has happened?’
‘Aye! Mr. Pitwinnoch, ye may weel speer; but my twa ungrateful grandchildren, that I did sae muckle for at their marriage, hae used me waur than I were a Papistical Jew o’ Jericho. I just, in my civil and discreet manner, was gi’en them a delicate memento mori concerning their unsettled count for bed, board, and washing; when up got Milrookit, as if he would hae flown out at the broad side o’ the house, and threepit that he didna owe me the tenth part o’ half a farthing; and threatened to tak me afore the Lords for a Canaanitish woman, and an extortioner.—Noo, don’t you think that’s a nice point, as my worthy father used to say, and music to the ears of a’ the Fifteen at Embrough?’
‘Mr. Milrookit, surely,’ said the lawyer, ‘can never resist so just a demand. How much is it?’
‘But, first and forwards,’ replied the Leddy, ‘before we come to the condescendence, I should state the case; and, Mr. Pitwinnoch, ye maun understand that I hae some knowledge o’ what pertains to law, for my father was most extraordinare at it; and so I need not tell you, that it’s weel for me the day to know what I know. For Milrookit, as I was saying, having refused, point-blank, Mr. Pitwinnoch, to implement the ’nuity of fifty pounds per annus, that your client—(that’s a legal word, Mr. Pitwinnoch)—that your client settled on my gude-dochter, I told him he would—then and there refusing—be bound over to pay me for the bed, board, and washing. And what would ye think, Mr. Pitwinnoch? he responded, with a justly due,—but I’ll due him; and though, had he been calm and well-bred, I might have put up with ten pounds; yet, seeing what a ramping lion he made himsel, I’ll no faik a farthing o’ a thousand, which, at merchants’ interest, will enable me to pay the ’nuity.So, when we get it, ye’ll hae to find me somebody willing to borrow on an heritable bond.’
‘I think you can hardly expect so much as a thousand pounds. If I recollect rightly, Mr. and Mrs. Milrookit stayed but six weeks with you,’ said the lawyer.
‘Time,’ replied the Leddy, ‘ye ken, as I hae often heard my father say, was no item in law; and unless there’s a statute of vagrancy in the Decisions, or the Raging Magistratom, there can be no doot that I hae’t in my power to put what value I please on my house, servitude, and expense, which is the strong ground of the case. Therefore, you will write a letter forthwith to Mr. Milrookit of Kittlestonheugh, charging him with a lawful debt, and a’ justly due to me, of one thousand pounds, without condescending on particulars at present, as the damages can be afterwards assessed, when we hae gotten payment of the principal, which everybody must allow is a most liberal offer on my part.’
It was with some difficulty that Mr. Pitwinnoch could preserve himself in a proper state of solemnity to listen to the instructions of his client; but what lawyer would laugh, even in his own ‘bottomless pit’? However, hesaid,—
‘Undoubtedly, Mrs. Walkinshaw, you have a good ground of action; but, perhaps, I may be able to effect an amicable arrangement, if you would submit the business to arbitration.’
‘Arbitration, Mr. Pitwinnoch!’ exclaimed the Leddy; ‘never propound such a thing to me; for often hae I heard my father say, that arbitration was the greatest cut-throat of legal proceedings that had been devised since the discovery of justice at Amalphi. Na, na—I hae mair sense than to virdict my case wi’ any sic pannelling as arbitration. So, law being my only remeid, I hope ye’ll leave no stone unturned till you hae brought Mr. Milrookit’s nose to the grindstone; and to help you to haud it there, I hae brought a five pound note as hansel for good luck,—this being the first traffic in legalities that I hae had on my own bottom; for, in the concos mentos o’ Watty, my son,ye ken I was keepit back, in order to be brought forward as a witness; but there is no need o’ ony decreet o’ court for such an interlocutor on the present occasion.’
The Leddy having, in this clear and learned manner, delivered her instructions, she left the office, and soon after Milrookit was also shown into ‘the bottomless pit,’ where he gave an account of the transaction, somewhat different, but, perhaps, no nearer the truth. He was, however, not a little surprised to find the pursuer had been there before him, and that she had instructed proceedings. But what struck him with the greatest consternation was a suggestion from Mr. Pitwinnoch to compromise the matter.
‘Take my advice, Mr. Milrookit,’ said he, ‘and settle this quietly—there is no saying what a law-suit may lead to; and, considering the circumstances under which you hold the estate, don’t stir, lest the sleeping dog awake. Let us pacify the old Leddy with two or three hundred pounds.’
‘Two or three hundred pounds, for six weeks of starvation! The thing, Mr. Pitwinnoch, is ridiculous.’
‘True, sir,’ replied the lawyer; ‘but then the state of the Entail—you should consider that. Be thankful if she will take a couple of hundreds.’
‘Nay, if you counsel me to do that, I have no alternative, and must submit.’
‘You will do wisely in at once agreeing,’ said Pitwinnoch; and, after some further conversation to the same effect, Milrookit gave a cheque for two hundred pounds, and retired grumbling.
The lawyer, rejoicing in so speedy and fortunate a settlement, as soon as he left the office, went to the Leddy, exulting in his address.
‘Twa hundred pounds!’ said she,—‘but the fifth part o’ my thousand! I’ll ne’er tak ony sic payment. Ye’ll carry it back to Mr. Milrookit, and tell him I’ll no faik a plack o’ my just debt; and what’s mair, if he does na pay me the whole tot down at once, he shall be put to the horn without a moment’s delay.’
‘I assure you,’ replied the lawyer, ‘that this isa result far beyond hope—you ought not for a moment to make a word about it; for you must be quite aware that he owes you no such sum as this. You said yourself that ten pounds would have satisfied you.’
‘And so it would—but that was before I gaed to law wi’ him,’ cried the Leddy; ‘but seeing now how I hae the rights o’ the plea, I’ll hae my thousand pounds if the hide be on his snout. Whatna better proof could ye hae o’ the justice o’ my demand, than that he should hae come down in terror at once wi’ two hundred pounds? I hae known my father law for seven years, and even when he won, he had money to pay out of his own pocket—so, wi’ sic eres o’ victory as ye hae gotten, I would be waur than mad no to stand out. Just gang till him, and come na back to me without the thousand pound—every farthing, Mr. Pitwinnoch—and your own costs besides; or, if ye dinna, maybe I’ll get another man o’ business that will do my turn better—for, in an extremity like a lawsuit, folk maunna stand on friendships. Had Mr. Keelevin been noo to the fore, I wouldna needed to be put to my peremptors; but, honest man, he’s gone. Howsever, there’s one Thomas Whitteret, that was his clerk when my friend that’s awa’ made his deed o’ settlement—and I hae heard he has a nerve o’ ability; so, if ye bring na me the thousand pounds this very afternoon, I’ll apply to him to be my agent.’
Mr. Pitwinnoch said not a word to this, but left the house, and, running to the Black Bull Inn, ordered a post-chaise, and was at Kittlestonheugh almost as soon as his client. A short conversation settled the business—the very name of Thomas Whitteret, an old clerk of Keelevin, and probably acquainted with the whole affair, was worth five thousand pounds, and, in consequence, in much less time than the Leddy expected, she did receive full payment of her thousand pounds; but, instead of expressing any pleasure at her success, she regretted that she should have made a charge of such moderation, being persuaded, that, had she stood out, the law would have given her double the money.
Mr. Pitwinnoch was instructed to lay out the money at five per cent. interest to pay Mrs. Charles the annuity; and one of his clerks mentioned the circumstance to a companion in Mr. Whitteret’s office. This led to an application from him for the loan, on account of a country gentleman in the neighbourhood, who, having obtained a considerable increase of his rental, was intending to enlarge his mansion, and extend his style of living,—a very common thing at that period, the effects of which are beginning to show themselves,—but, as the Leddy said on another occasion, that’s none of our concern at present.
The security offered being unexceptionable, an arrangement was speedily concluded, and an heritable bond for the amount prepared. As the party borrowing the money lived at some distance from the town, Mr. Whitteret sent one of his young men to get it signed, and to deliver it to the Leddy. It happened that the youth employed in this business was a little acquainted with the Leddy, and knowing her whimsical humour, when he carried it home he stopped, and fell into conversation with her about Walkinshaw, whom he knew.
‘I maun gar his mother write to him,’ said the Leddy, ‘to tell him what a victory I hae gotten;—for ye maun ken, Willy Keckle, that I hae overcome principalities and powers in this controversy.—Wha ever heard o’ thousands o’ pounds gotten for sax weeks’ bed, board, and washing, like mine? But it was a rightous judgement on the Nabal Milrookit,—whom I’ll never speak to again in this world, and no in the next either, I doot, unless he mends his manners. He made an absolute refuse to gie a continuality o’ Jamie’s mother’s ’nuity, which was the because o’ my going to law with him for a thousand pounds, value received in bed, board, and washing, for six weeks.—And the case, Willy,—you that’s breeding for a limb o’ the law,—yeshould ken, was sic an absolute fact, that he was obligated by a judicature to pay me down the money.’
Willy Keckle was so amused with her account of the speedy justice which she had obtained, as she said, by instructing Mr. Pitwinnoch herself of the ‘nice point,’ and ‘the strong ground,’ that he could not refrain from relating the conversation to his master.
Mr. Whitteret was diverted with the story; but it seemed so strange and unaccountable, that the amount of the demand, and the readiness with which it was paid, dwelt on his mind as extraordinary circumstances; and he having occasion next day to go into Edinburgh, where Mr. Frazer had returned from Glengael, to attend his professional duties, he happened to be invited to dine with a party where that gentleman was, and the company consisting chiefly of lawyers,—as dinner parties unfortunately are in the modern Athens,—he amused them with the story of the Leddy’s legal knowledge.
Glengael, from the interest which he took in his young friend, Walkinshaw, whom he had left at the castle, was led to inquire somewhat particularly into the history of the Kittlestonheugh family, expressing his surprise and suspicion, in common with the rest of the company, as to the motives which could have influenced a person of Milrookit’s character to comply so readily with a demand so preposterous.
One thing led on to another, and Mr. Whitteret recollected something of the deed which had been prepared when he was in Mr. Keelevin’s office, and how old Grippy died before it was executed. The object of this deed was then discussed, and the idea presenting itself to the mind of Glengael, that, possibly, it might have some connection with the Entail, inquired more particularly respecting the terms of that very extraordinary settlement, expressing his astonishment that it should not have contained a clause to oblige the person marrying the heiress to take the name of Walkinshaw, to which the old man, by all accounts, had been so much attached. The whole affair, themore it was considered, seemed the more mysterious; and the conclusion in the penetrating mind of Mr. Frazer was, that Milrookit had undoubtedly some strong reason for so quietly hushing the old Leddy’s claim.
His opinion at the moment was, that Robina’s father had left a will, making some liberal provision for his sister-in-law’s family; and that Milrookit was anxious to stand on such terms with his connections, as would prevent any of them, now that Walkinshaw had left Glasgow, from inquiring too anxiously into the state of his father-in-law’s affairs. But, without expressing what was passing in his mind, he so managed the conversation as to draw out the several opinions of his legal brethren. Some of them coincided with his own. There was, however, one old pawkie and shrewd writer to the signet present, who remained silent, but whom Mr. Frazer observed attending with an uncommon degree of earnest and eager watchfulness to what was said, practising, in fact, nearly the same sort of policy which prompted himself to lead the conversation.
Mr. Pilledge,—for so this W. S. was called—had acquired a considerable fortune and reputation in the Parliament House, by the address with which he discovered dormant rights and legal heirs; and Mr. Frazer had no doubt, from the evident interest which he had taken in the Kittlestonheugh story, that he would soon take some steps to ascertain the real motives which had led Milrookit to act in the Leddy’s case so inconsistently with his general character. In so far he was, therefore, not displeased to observe his earnestness; but he had often heard it said, that Mr. Pilledge was in the practice of making bargains with those clients whose dormant rights he undertook to establish, by which it was insinuated that he had chiefly built up his fortune—his general practice being very limited; and Mr. Frazer resolved to watch his movements, in order to protect his young friend.
This opinion of Pilledge was not unfounded; for the same evening, after the party broke up, he accompanied Whitteret to the hotel where he stayed, and, in the course of the walk, renewed the conversation respecting the singular entail of old Grippy. The Glasgow lawyer was shrewd enough to perceive, that such unusual interest in a case where he had no concern could not be dictated by the mere wonder and curiosity which the Writer to the Signet affected to express; but, being unacquainted with the general character of Pilledge, he ascribed his questions and conjectures to the effect of professional feelings perplexed by a remarkable case.
But it happened next morning that he had occasion to attend a consultation with Mr. Frazer, who, taking an opportunity to revert to the subject, which had so occupied their attention on the preceding afternoon, gave him a hint to be on his guard with respect to Pilledge, suggesting, on Walkinshaw’s account, that Whitteret might find it of advantage to himself, could he really ascertain the secret reasons and motives by which the possessor of the Kittlestonheugh estate was actuated.
‘It would not give you much trouble,’ said he, ‘were you to step into the Register Office, and look at the terms of the original deed of entail; for although the disinheritance of the eldest son, as I have always understood, was final, there may be some flaw in the succession with respect to the daughter.’
This extrajudicial advice was not lost. As soon as the consultation was over, Whitteret went to the Register Office, where, not a little to his surprise, he found Pilledge, as Frazer had suspected, already in the act of reading the registered deed of the entail. A short conversation then ensued, in which Whitteret intimated that he had also come for the same purpose.
‘Then,’ said Pilledge, ‘let us go together, for it appears to me that the heirs-female of the sons do not succeed before the heirs whatsoever of the daughters; and Milrookit’s right would be preferable to that of his wife, if the eldest son has not left a son.’
‘But the eldest son has left a son,’ replied Whitteret.
‘In that case,’ said Pilledge, ‘we may make a good thing of it with him. I’ll propose to him to undertake his claim upon an agreement for half the rent, in the event of success, and we can divide the bakes.’
‘You may save yourself the trouble,’ replied Whitteret coolly; ‘for I shall write to him by the first post—in the meantime, Mr. Frazer has authorized me to act.’
‘Frazer! how can he authorize you?’ said Pilledge, discontentedly.
‘He knows that best himself; but the right of the son of the eldest son is so clear, that there will be no room for any proceedings.’
‘You are mistaken there,’ replied Pilledge, eagerly. ‘I never saw a deed yet that I could not drive a horse and cart through, and I should think that Milrookit is not such a fool as to part with the estate without a struggle. But since you are agent for the heir of entail, I will offer to conduct the respondent’s case. I think you said he is rich, independent of the heritable subject.’
This conscientious conversation was abruptly terminated on the part of Whitteret, who immediately went to Mr. Frazer, and communicated the important discovery which had been made, with respect to Walkinshaw being the heir of entail. He also mentioned something of what had passed with Mr. Pilledge, expressing his apprehensions, from what he knew of Pitwinnoch, Milrookit’s man of business, in Glasgow, that Pilledge, with his assistance, might involve the heir in expensive litigation.
Mr. Frazer knew enough of the metaphysical ingenuity of the Parliament House, to be aware that, however clear and evident any right might be, it was never beyond the possibility of dispute there, and he immediately suggested that some steps should be taken, to induce Milrookit at once to resign the possession of the property; but, while they were thus speaking Pilledge was already on the road to Glasgow, to apprise Milrookit of what was impending, and to counsel him to resist.
From the circumstance of Milrookit and Robina staying with the Leddy at the time of their marriage, the porter at the inn, where Pilledge alighted on his arrival at Glasgow, supposed they lived in her house, and conducted him there. But, on reaching the door, seeing the name of Mrs. Walkinshaw on a brass plate, not quite so large as the one that the Lord Provost of the royal city sported on the occasion of his Majesty’s most gracious visit to the lawful and intellectual metropolis of his ancient kingdom, he resolved to address himself to her, for what purpose it would not be easy to say, further than he thought, perhaps, from what he had heard of her character, that she might be of use in the projected litigation. Accordingly, he applied his hand to the knocker, and was shown into the room where she was sitting alone, spinning.
‘You are the lady,’ said he, ‘I presume, of the late much respected Mr. Claud Walkinshaw, commonly styled of Grippy.’
‘So they say, for want o’ a better,’ replied the Leddy, stopping at the same time her wheel and looking up to him; ‘but wha are ye, and what’s your will?’
‘My name is Pilledge. I am a writer to the signet, and I have come to see Mr. Milrookit of Kittlestonheugh, respecting an important piece of business;’—and he seated himself unbidden. As he said this, the Leddy pricked up her ears, for, exulting in her own knowledge of the law, by which she had recently so triumphed, as she thought, she became eager to know what the important piece of business could be, andreplied,—
‘Nae doot, it’s anent the law-plea he has been brought into, on account of his property.’
Milrookit had been engaged in no suit whatever, but this was the way she took to trot the Edinburgh writer, and sheadded,—
‘How do ye think it’ll gang wi’ him? Is there onyprospect o’ the Lord Ordinary coming to a decision on the pursuer’s petition?’
This really looked so like the language of the Parliament House, considering it came from an old lady, that Pilledge was taken in, and his thoughts running on the entail, he immediately fancied that she alluded to something connected with it, andsaid,—
‘I should think, Madam, that your evidence would be of the utmost importance to the case, and it was to advise with him chiefly as to the line of defence he ought to take that I came from Edinburgh.’
‘Nae doot, Sir, I could gie an evidence, and instruct on the merits of the interdict,’ said she learnedly; ‘but I ne’er hae yet been able to come to a right understanding anent and concerning the different aforesaids set forth in the respondent’s reclaiming petition. Noo, I would be greatly obligated if ye would expone to me the nice point, that I may be able to decern accordingly.’
The Writer to the Signet had never heard a clearer argument, either at the bar or on the bench, and hereplied,—
‘Indeed, Mem, it lies in a very small compass. It appears that the heir-male of your eldest son is the rightful heir of entail; but there are so many difficulties in the terms of the settlement, that I should not be surprised were the Court to set the deed aside, in which case, Mrs. Milrookit would still retain the estate, as heir-at-law of her father.’
We must allow the reader to conceive with what feelings the Leddy heard this; but new and wonderful as it was felt to be, she still preserved her juridical gravity, andsaid,—
‘It’s vera true what ye say, Sir, that the heir-male of my eldest son,—is a son,—I can easily understand that point o’ law;—but can ye tell me how the heir-at-law of her father, Mrs. Milrookit that is, came to be a dochter, when it was ay the intent and purpose o’ my friend that’s awa, the testator, to make no provision but for heirs-male, which his heart, poor man,was overly set on. Howsever, I suppose that’s to be considered in the precognition!’
‘Certainly, Mem,’ replied the Writer to the Signet; ‘nothing is more clear than that your husband intended the estate to go, in the first instance, to the heirs-male of his sons; first to those of Walter, the second son; and failing them, to those of George, the third son; and failing them, then to go back to the heirs-male of Charles, the eldest son; and failing them, to the heirs-general of Margaret, your daughter. It is, therefore, perfectly clear, that Mrs. Milrookit being, as you justly observe, a daughter, the estate, according to the terms of the settlement, passes her, and goes to the heir of entail, who is the son of your eldest son.’
‘I understand that weel,’ said the Leddy; ‘it’s as plain as a pike-staff, that my oe Jamie, the soldier-officer, is by right the heir; and I dinna see how Walky Milrookit, or his wife Beenie, that is, according to law, Robina, can, by any decreet o’ Court, keep him out of his ain,—poor laddie!’
‘It is very natural for you, Mem, to say so; but the case has other points, and especially as the heir of entail is in the army, I certainly would not advise Mr. Milrookit to surrender.’
‘But he’ll be maybe counselled better,’ rejoined the Leddy, inwardly rejoicing at the discovery she had made, and anxious to get rid of the visitor, in order that she might act at once, ‘and if ye’ll tak my advice, ye’ll no sca’d your lips in other folks’ kail. Mr. Pitwinnoch is just as gude a Belzebub’s baby for a law-plea, as ony Writer to the Signet in that bottomless pit, the House o’ Parliament in Edinbrough; and since ye hae told me what ye hae done, it’s but right to let you ken what I’ll do. As yet I hae had but ae lawsuit, and I trow it was soon brought, by my own mediation, to a victory; but it winna be lang till I hae another; for if Milrookit does na consent, the morn’s morning, to gie up the Kittlestonheugh, he’ll soon fin’ again what it is to plea wi’ a woman o’ my experience.’
Pilledge was petrified; he saw that he was in thehands of the Leddy, and that she had completely overreached him. But still he was resolved that his journey should not be barren if he could possibly prevent it. He accordingly wished her good afternoon, and, returning to the inn, ordered a chaise, and proceeded to Kittlestonheugh.
The moment that he left the Leddy, her cloak and bonnet were put in requisition, and attended by her maid, on whose arm she leaned, being still lame with the rheumatism, she sallied forth to Pitwinnoch’s office, resolved on action.
He had not, however, acted on what she called her great Bed and Board plea entirely to her satisfaction; for she thought, had he seen the rights of her case as well as she did herself, and had counselled her better, she might have got much more than a thousand pounds. She was, therefore, determined, if he showed the least hesitation in obeying her ‘peremptors,’ that she would immediately proceed to Mr. Whitteret’s office, and appoint him her agent. How she happened to imagine that she had any right to institute proceedings against Milrookit, for the restoration of the estate to Walkinshaw, will be best understood by our narrative of what passed at the consultation.
‘It was a happy thing for me, Mr. Pitwinnoch,’ said the Leddy, after being seated in his inner chamber—‘a happy thing, indeed, that I had a father, and sic a father as he was. Weel kent he the rights o’ the law; so that I may say I was brought up at the feet o’ Gamaliel. But the bed and board plea, Mr. Pitwinnoch, that ye thought sae lightly o’, and wanted me to mak a sacrifice o’ wi’ an arbitration, was bairn’s play to the case I hae noo in hand. Ye maun ken, then, that I hae ta’en a suspektion in my head, that Milrookit—the de’il rook him for what he did to me—has nae right because to keep, in a wrongous manner,my gudeman’s estate and property o’ the Kittlestonheugh. ’Deed, Mr. Pitwinnoch, ye may glower; but it’s my intent and purpose to gar him surrender at discretion, in due course of law. So he’ll see what it is to deal wi’ a woman o’ my legality. In short, Mr. Pitwinnoch, I’ll mak him fin’ that I’m a statute at large; for, as I said before, the thousand pounds was but erles, and a foretaste, that I hae been oure lang, Mr. Pitwinnoch, of going to law.’
‘You surprise me, Madam,—I cannot understand what you mean,’ replied the astonished lawyer.
‘Your surprise, and having no understanding, Mr. Pitwinnoch, is a symptom to me that ye’re no qualified to conduct my case; but, before going to Thomas Whitteret, who, as I am creditably informed, is a man o’ a most great capacity, I thought it was but right to sound the depth o’ your judgement and learning o’ the law; and if I found you o’ a proper sufficiency, to gie you a preferment, ’cause ye were my agent in the last plea.’
‘But, Madam,’ said the astonished lawyer, ‘how can you possibly have fancied that Mr. Milrookit has not, in right of his wife, properly succeeded to the estate?’
‘Because she’s no a male-heir—being in terms of the act—but a woman. What say ye to that? Is na that baith a nice point and a ground of action? Na, ye need na look sae constipated, Mr. Pitwinnoch, for the heirs-general o’ Margaret, the dochter, hae a better right than the heir-at-law o’ George, the third and last son, the same being an heir-female.’
‘In the name of goodness, where have you, Madam, collected all this stuff?’
‘Stuff! Mr. Pitwinnoch, is that the way to speak o’ my legality? Howsever, since ye’re sae dumfoundert, I’ll just be as plain’s am pleasant wi’ you. Stuff truly! I think Mr. Whitteret’s the man for me.’
‘I beg your pardon, Mrs. Walkinshaw; but I wish you would be a little more explicit, and come to the point.’
‘Have na I come to ae point already, anent the male-heir?’
‘True, Madam,’ said the lawyer; ‘but even, admitting all you have stated to be perfectly correct, Mr. Milrookit then has the right in himself, for you know it is to the heirs-general of his mother, and not to herself, that the property goes.’
‘Ye need na tell me that. Do you think I dinna ken that he’s an heir-general to his mother, being her only child? Ye mak light, I canna but say, o’ my understanding, Mr. Pitwinnoch. Howsever, is’t no plain that his wife, not being an heir-male, is debarred frae succeeding; and, he being an heir-general, cannot, according to the law of the case, succeed? Surely, Mr. Pitwinnoch, that’s no to be contested? Therefore, I maintain that he is lawfully bound to renounce the property, and that he shall do the morn’s morning if there’s a toun-officer in Glasgow.’
‘But, Madam, you have no possible right to it,’ exclaimed the lawyer, puzzled.
‘Me! am I a male-heir? an aged woman, and a grandmother! Surely, Mr. Pitwinnoch, your education maun hae been greatly neglekit, to ken so little o’ the laws o’ nature and nations. No: the heir-male is a young man, the eldest son’s only son.’
The lawyer began to quake for his client as the Leddyproceeded,—
‘For ye ken that the deed of entail was first on Walter, the second son; and, failing his heirs-male, then on George and his heirs-male; and, failing them, then it went back to Charles the eldest son, and to his heirs-male; if there’s law in the land, his only son ought to be an heir-male, afore Milrookit’s wife that’s but an only dochter.’
‘Has Mr. Whitteret put this into your head?—he was bred wi’ Keelevin, who drew up the deed,’ said the lawyer seriously, struck with the knowledge which the Leddy seemed to have so miraculously acquired of the provisions of the entail.
‘I dinna need Mr. Whitteret, nor ony siclike, toinstruct me in terms o’ law—for I got an inkling and an instinct o’ the whole nine points frae my worthy father, that was himsel bred an advocate, and had more law-pleas on his hands when he died than ony ither three lairds in Carrick, Coil, and Cunningham. But no to be my own trumpeter—ye’ll just, Mr. Pitwinnoch, write a mandamus to Milrookit, in a civil manner—mind that; and tell him in the same, that I’ll be greatly obligated if he’ll gie up the house and property of Kittlestonheugh to the heir-male, James Walkinshaw, his cousin; or, failing therein, ye’ll say that I hae implemented you to pronounce an interlocutor against him; and ye may gie him a bit hint frae yoursel—in a noty beny at the bottom—that you advise him to conform, because you are creditably informed that I mean to pursue him wi’ a’ the law o’ my displeasure.’
‘Does your grandson know any thing of this extraordinary business?’ said Pitwinnoch; but the Leddy parried the question bysaying,—
‘That’s no our present sederunt; but I would ask you, if ye do not think I hae the justice o’ this plea?’
‘Indeed, Madam, to say the truth, I shall not be surprised if you have; but there is no need to be so peremptory—the business may be as well settled by an amicable arrangement.’
‘What’s the use of an amicable arrangement? Is na the law the law? Surely I did na come to a lawyer for sic dowf and dowie proceedings as amicable arrangements—no, Mr. Pitwinnoch, ye see yoursel that I hae decern’t on the rights o’ the case, and therefore (for I maun be short wi’ you, for talking to me o’ amicable arrangements) ye may save your breath to cool your porridge; my will and pleasure is, that Walkinshaw Milrookit shall do to-morrow morning—in manner of law—then and there—dispone and surrender unto the heir-male of the late Claud Walkinshaw of Kittlestonheugh, in the shire o’ Lanark, and synod of Glasgow and Ayr—all and sundry the houses and lands aforesaid, according to the provisions of an act made andpassed in the reign of our Sovereign Lord the King. Ye see, Mr. Pitwinnoch, that I’m no a daw in barrow’t feathers, to be picket and pooket in the way I was by sic trash as the Milrookits.’
The Leddy, having thus instructed her lawyer, bade him adieu, and returned home, leaning on her maid’s arm, and on the best possible terms with herself, scarcely for a moment doubting a favourable result to a proceeding that in courtesy we must call her second law-suit.
The shipwreck of the third Laird had left an awful impression on the minds of all the Glengael party, who, immediately after that disaster, returned to the castle. To Mrs. Eadie it afforded the strongest confirmation that she had inherited the inspiring mantle of her maternal race; and her dreams and visions, which happily for herself were of the most encouraging augury, became more and more frequent, and her language increased in mystery and metaphor.
‘Death,’ said she, ‘has performed his task—the winds of heaven and the ocean waves have obeyed the mandate, and the moon has verified her influence on the destinies of men. But the volume, with the brazen clasps, has not yet been opened—the chronicled wisdom of ages has not yet been unfolded—Antiquity and Learning are still silent in their niches, and their faces veiled.’
It was of no avail to argue with her, even in her soberest moods, against the fatal consequences of yielding so entirely to the somnambulism of her malady. Her friends listened to her with a solemn compassion, and only hoped that, in the course of the summer, some improvement might take place in her health, and allay that extreme occasional excitement of her nervous system which produced such mournful effects on a mind of rare and splendid endowments. In the hopes of this favourable change, it was agreed,when Mr. Frazer was called to Edinburgh on professional business, as we have already mentioned, that the family should, on her account, remain till late in the year at Glengael.
Meanwhile Walkinshaw and French Frazer were proceeding with their recruiting; and it was soon evident to the whole party that the latter had attached himself in a particular manner to Mary. Mrs. Eadie, if not the first who observed it, was the first who spoke of it; but, instead of using that sort of strain which ladies of a certain age commonly employ on such affairs, she boded of bridal banquets in the loftiest poetry of her prophetical phraseology. The fortunes of Walkinshaw and Ellen were lost sight of in the mystical presages of this new theme, till the letters arrived from Mr. Frazer, announcing the discovery of the provisions in the deed of entail, and requesting his young friend to come immediately to Edinburgh. ‘The clasped book of antiquity,’ said Mrs. Eadie, ‘is now open. Who shall dispute the oracles of fate?’
But with all the perspicuity of her second sight, she saw nothing of what was passing at Kittlestonheugh on the same afternoon in which these letters reached the castle.
Mr. Pilledge, it will be recollected, immediately after his interview with the Leddy, proceeded in a post-chaise to see Milrookit; and, as he was not embarrassed with much professional diffidence, the purpose of his visit was soon explained. The consternation with which Walky heard of the discovery will be easier imagined than described; but something like a ray of hope and pleasure glimmered in the prospect that Pilledge held out of being able either to break the entail, or to procrastinate the contest to an indefinite period at an expence of less than half the rental of the property.
While they were thus engaged in discussing the subject, and Milrookit was entering as cordially into the views of the Edinburgh writer, as could on so short a notice be reasonably expected, Mr. Pitwinnoch wasannounced. The instinct of birds of a feather, as the proverb says, had often before brought him into contact with Pilledge, and a few words of explanation enabled the triumvirate to understand the feelings of each other thoroughly.
‘But,’ said Pitwinnoch, ‘I am instructed to take immediate steps, to establish the rights of the heir of entail.’
‘So much the better,’ replied Pilledge; ‘the business could not be in abler hands. You can act for your client in the most satisfactory manner, and as Mr. Milrookit will authorize me to proceed for him, it will be hard if we cannot make a tough pull.’
Mr. Pitwinnoch thought so too, and then amused them with a laughable account of the instructions he had received from the Leddy, to demand the surrender of the estate, and the acknowledgment of the heir, in the course of the following day. Pilledge, in like manner, recounted, in his dry and pawkie style, the interview which he had himself with the same ingenious and redoubtable matron; and that nothing might be wanting to the enjoyment of their jokes and funny recitals, Milrookit ordered in wine, and they were all as jocose as possible, when the servant brought a letter—it was from Mr. Whitteret, written at the suggestion of Mr. Frazer, to whom he had, immediately after parting from Pilledge in the Register Office, communicated the discovery. It simply announced, that steps were taken to serve Walkinshaw heir to the estate, and suggested on account of the relationship of the parties, that it might be as well to obviate, by an admission of the claim, the necessity of any exposure, or of the institution of unpleasant proceedings, for the fraud that had been practised.
Milrookit trembled as he read,—Pitwinnoch looked aghast, for he perceived that his own conduct in the transaction might be sifted; and Pilledge, foreseeing there would be no use for him, quietly took his hat and slipped away, leaving them to their own meditations.
‘This is a dreadful calamity,’ were the first wordsthat Milrookit uttered, after a silence of several minutes.
‘It is a most unlucky discovery,’ said Pitwinnoch.
‘And this threat of exposure,’ responded his client.
‘And my character brought into peril!’ exclaimed the lawyer.
‘Had you not rashly advised me,’ said Milrookit, ‘I should never for a moment have thought of retaining the property.’
‘Both your father and yourself, Sir,’ retorted the lawyer, ‘thought if it could be done, it ought; I but did my duty as your lawyer, in recommending what you so evidently wished.’
‘That is not the fact, Sir,’ replied Milrookit, sharply, and the conversation proceeded to become more abrupt and vehement, till the anger of high words assumed the form of action, and the lawyer and his client rushed like two bull-dogs on each other. At that crisis, the door was suddenly opened, and the old Leddy looking in,said,—
‘Shake him weel, Mr. Pitwinnoch, and if he’ll no conform, I redde ye gar him conform.’
The rage of the combatants was instantly extinguished, and they stood pale and confounded, trembling in every limb.
It had happened, after the Leddy returned home from Pitwinnoch’s, that Robina called, in the carriage, to effect, if possible, a reconciliation with her, which, for reasons we need not mention, her husband had engaged her that afternoon to do, and she had, in consequence, brought her, in the spirit of friendship, as she imagined, out to Kittlestonheugh. The Leddy, however, prided herself on being almost as dexterous a diplomatician as she was learned in the law, and she affected to receive her grand-daughter in the spirit of a total oblivion of all injuries.
‘Ye ken, Beenie, my dear,’ said she, ‘that I’m an aged person, and for a’ the few and evil days I hae before me in this howling wilderness, it’s vera natural that I should like to make a conciliation wi’ my grandchilder,who, I hope, will a’ live in comfort wi’ one another—every one getting his own right, for it’s a sore thing to go to law, although I hae some reason to know that there are folks in our family that ken mair o’ the nine points than they let wit—so I’m cordial glad to see you, Beenie, and I take it so kind, that if ye’ll gie me a hurl in the carriage, and send me hame at night, I’ll no object to gang wi’ you and speer for your gudeman, for whom I hae a’ manner o’ respek, even though he was a thought unreasonable anent my charge o’ moderation for the bed and board.’
But the truth is, that the Leddy, from the moment Robina entered the room, was seized with the thirst of curiosity to know how Milrookit would receive the claim, and had, in this eccentric manner, contrived to get herself taken to the scene of action.
Recalled to their senses by the interruption, both Milrookit and his lawyer saw that their interests and characters were too intimately linked in the consequences of the discovery to allow them to incur the hazards of a public disclosure. Pitwinnoch was the first who recovered his presence of mind, and, with great cleverness, he suddenly turned round, and addressed himself to the Leddy:—
‘Though we have had a few words, Mr. Milrookit is quite sensible that he has not a shadow of reason to withhold the estate from the heir of entail. He will give it up the moment that it is demanded.’
‘Then I demand it this moment,’ exclaimed the Leddy; ‘and out of this house, that was my ain, I’ll no depart till Jamie Walkinshaw, the righteous male-heir, comes to tak possession. It was a most jewdical habit and repute like action o’ you, Walky Milrookit, to reset and keep this fine property on a point of law; and I canna see how ye’ll clear your character o’ the coom ye hae brought on’t by sic a diminishmentof the grounds of the case between an heir-male and an heir-female.’
Milrookit, seeing his wife coming into the room, and eager to get the business closed as happily as possible, requested Pitwinnoch to follow him into another apartment; to which they immediately retired, leaving the ladies together.
‘Beenie,’ said the Leddy, with the most ineffable self-satisfied equanimity, ‘I hope ye’ll prepare yoursel to hear wi’ composity the sore affliction that I’m ordain’t to gie you. Eh, Beenie! honesty’s a braw thing; and I’ll no say that your gudeman, my ain oe, hasna been a deevil that should get his dues—what they are, the laws and lawyers as weel as me ken are little short o’ the halter. But, for a’ that, our ain kith and kin, Beenie—we maun jook and let the jawp gae bye. So I counsel you to pack up your ends and your awls, and flit your camp wi’ a’ the speed ye dow; for there’s no saying what a rampageous soldier-officer, whose trade is to shoot folk, may say or do, when Jamie Walkinshaw comes to ken the battle that I hae fought wi’ sic triumphing.’
Mrs. Milrookit, who was totally uninformed either of the circumstances of her situation, or of what had taken place, scarcely felt more amazement than terror at this speech, and in perceiving that her grandmother was acquainted with the business which had brought her husband and Pitwinnoch to such high words, that their voices were heard before the carriage reached the door.
‘What has happened?’ was the anxious exclamation of her alarm.
‘Only a discovery that has been made among the Faculty o’ Advocates, that a dochter’s no a male-heir. So you being but the heir-female of George, the third son, by course o’ nature the property goes back to the son of Charles the eldest son—he being, in the words of the act, an heir-male, and your husband, Walkinshaw Milrookit, being an heir-general of Margaret, the daughter, is, in a sense o’ law, no heir at all, whichis the reason that your cousin Jamie comes in for the estate, and that you and Milrookit must take up your bed, and walk to some other dwelling-place; for here, at Kittlestonheugh, ye hae no continued city, Beenie, my dear, and I’m very sorry for you. It’s wi’ a very heavy heart, and an e’e o’ pity, that I’m obligated not to be beautiful on the mountains, but to tell you thir sore news.’
‘Then I’m to understand,’ replied Robina, with a degree of composure that surprised the Leddy, ‘it has been discovered that my uncle Charles’ family were not entirely disinherited, but that James succeeds to the estate? It is only to be regretted that this was not known sooner, before we took up our residence here.’
‘It’s an auld saying, Beenie, and a true saying, as I know from my own experience, that the law is a tether o’ length and durability; so ye need be nane surprised, considering the short time bygane since your father’s death, that the panel was na brought to judgement sooner. Indeed, if it had na been by my instrumentality, and the implementing o’ the case that I gied to Pitwinnoch, there’s no saying how long it would hae been pending afore the Lords.’
While the Leddy was thus delivering what she called her dark sentence o’ legality, Pitwinnoch and Milrookit returned into the room, and the former said to theLeddy,—
‘I’m happy to inform you, Madam, that Mr. Milrookit acts in the handsomest manner. He is quite satisfied that his cousin, Mr. Walkinshaw, is the true heir of entail, and is prepared to resign the estate at once.’
‘Did na I prove to you, Mr. Pitwinnoch, that wi’ baith his feet he had na ae leg in law to stand on; but ye misdootit my judgement,’ replied the Leddy, exultingly.
‘But,’ continued the lawyer, ‘in consideration of this most honourable acquiescence at once on his part, I have undertaken that ye’ll repay the thousand pounds which, you must be sensible, was a mostridiculous sum for six weeks’ bed and board in your house.’
‘Truly, and ye’re no far wrang, Mr. Pitwinnoch. It was a vera ridiculous soom; for, if I had stood out, I might hae got twa thousand, if no mair. But I canna understand how it is possible you can think I’ll part wi’ my lawful won money for naething.—What’s the gieing up o’ the estate to the male heir to me? I’ll get neither plack nor bawbee by’t, unless it please Jamie to gie me a bit present, by way o’ a fee, for counselling you how to set about the precognition that’s gotten him his right.—Na, na, no ae farthing will I faik.’
‘Then, Madam, I shall feel it my duty to advise Mr. Milrookit to revive the question, and take the matter into Court upon a ground of error,’ said the lawyer.
‘Tak it, tak it, pleasure yoursel in that way; ye can do naething mair cordial to me;—but I think ye ought to know, and Milrookit to understand, baith by bed, board, and washing, and heirs-male, what it is to try the law wi’ me.’
The lawyer and his client exchanged looks: the Leddy, however, continued heraddress,—
‘Howsever, Mr. Pitwinnoch, sure am I there was no mistake in the business; for ye’ll bear in mind that ye made me an offer of twa hundred, the whilk I refused, and then ye brought me my justly due. That settles the point o’ law,—tak my word for ’t.’
‘I am afraid,’ said Pitwinnoch to his rueful client, ‘that there is no chance’—
‘’Deed no, Mr. Pitwinnoch,’ replied the Leddy; ‘neither pursuer nor respondent has ony chance wi’ me in that plea; so just shake your lugs and lie down again. A’ your barking would prove afore the Lords but as water spilt on the ground; for the money is in an heritable bond, and the whilk bond is in my hands; that’s the strong ground o’ the case,—touch it whan ye may.’
Pitwinnoch could with difficulty keep his gravity,and poor Milrookit, finding he had so overreached himself,said,—
‘Well, but when you make your will, I trust and hope you will then consider how simply I gave you the money.’
‘Mak my will!—that’s a delicate hint to an aged woman. I’ll no forget that,—and as to your simplicity in paying the justly due for bed, board, and washing,—was na every pound got as if it had been a tooth out o’ your head, howkit out by course and force o’ law?’
‘In truth, Leddy,’ said Pitwinnoch, ‘we are all friends here, and it’s just as well to speak freely. I advised Mr. Milrookit to pay you the money, rather than hazard any question that might possibly attract attention to the provisions of the entail; but now since the whole has been brought to an issue, you must be sensible that he suffers enough in losing the estate, and that you ought to give him back the money.’
The Leddy sat for several minutes silent, evidently cogitating an answer, at the end of which she raised her eyes, and said toPitwinnoch,—
‘I can see as far through a millstane as ye can do through a fir deal, and maybe I may tak it in my head to raise a plea wi’ you in an action of damages, for plotting and libelling in the way that it’s vera visible ye hae done, jointly and severally, in a plea of the crown; and aiblins I’ll no tak less than a thousand pounds;—so, Mr. Pitwinnoch, keep your neck out o’ the woody o’ a law-plea wi’ me, if ye can; for, in the way of business, I hae done wi’ you; and, as soon as Mr. Whitteret comes hame, I’ll see whether I ought not to instruct in a case against you for the art and part conspiracy of the thousand pounds.’
Milrookit himself was obliged to laugh at the look of consternation with which this thunderclap broke over the lawyer, who, unable to withstand the absurdity of the threat, and yet alarmed for the consequences to his reputation, which such an attempt would entail, hastily retired.
The Leddy having so happily brought her second lawsuit to a victorious issue, and already menacing a third, did not feel that her triumph would be complete, until she had obtained the plaudits of the world; and the first person on whom she resolved to levy her exactions of applause was naturally enough the mother of Walkinshaw.
As soon as Pitwinnoch had left the house, she persuaded Milrookit to send the carriage for Mrs. Charles, with injunctions to the coachman not to say a word of what had passed, as she intended herself to have the pleasure of communicating the glad tidings. This he very readily agreed to; for, notwithstanding the grudge which he felt at having been so simply mulcted of so large a sum, he really felt his mind relieved by the result of the discovery; perhaps, in complying, he had some sinister view towards the Leddy’s good-will—some distant vista of his thousand pounds.
Mrs. Charles was a good deal surprised at the message to come immediately to Kittlestonheugh; and her timid and gentle spirit, in consequence of learning from the coachman that the old lady was there, anticipated some disaster to her son. Her fears fluttered as she drove on alone. The broad dark shadows that had crossed the path of her past pilgrimage were remembered with melancholy forebodings, and the twilight of the evening having almost faded into night, she caught gloomy presentiments from the time, and sighed that there was no end to her sorrows.
The season was now advanced into September; and though the air was clear, the darkness of the road, the silence of the fields, and the occasional glimmers of the fire that the horses’ hoofs struck from the stones, awakened associations of doubt, anxiety, and danger; but the serene magnificence of the starry heavens inspired hope, and the all-encompassing skyseemed to her the universal wings of Providence, vigilant and protecting with innumerable millions of eyes.
Still the devotional enthusiasm of that fancy was but a transient glow on the habitual pale cast of her thoughts; and she saw before her, in the remainder of her mortal journey, only a continuance of the same road which she had long travelled—a narrow and a difficult track across a sterile waste, harsh with brambles, and bleak and lonely.
So is it often, under the eclipse of fortune, even with the bravest spirits; forgetting how suddenly before, in the darkest hour, the views of life have changed, they yield to the aspect of the moment, and breathe the mean and peevish complaints of faithlessness and despondency. Let it not, therefore, be imputed as an unworthy weakness, that a delicate and lowly widow, whose constant experience had been an unbroken succession of disappointments and humiliations, should, in such an hour, and shrinking with the sensibilities of a mother, wonder almost to sinning why she had been made to suffer such a constancy of griefs. But the midnight of her fate was now past, and the dawn was soon to open upon her with all its festal attributes of a bright and joyous morning—though our friend the Leddy was not so brisk in communicating the change as we could have wished.
She was sitting alone in the parlour when the carriage returned; and as the trembling mother was shown into the room, she received her with the most lugubrious face that her features could assume.
‘Come awa’, Bell Fatherlans,’ said she, ‘come away, and sit down. O this is a most uncertain world—nothing in it has stability;—the winds blow—the waters run—the grass grows—the snow falls—the day flieth away unto the uttermost parts of the sea, and the night hideth her head in the morning cloud, and perisheth for evermore. Many a lesson we get—many a warning to set our thoughts on things above; but we’re ay sinking, sinking, sinking, as the sparksfly upward.—Bell, Bell, we’re a’ like thorns crackling under a kail-pot.’
‘What has occurred?’ exclaimed Mrs. Charles; ‘I beg you’ll tell me at once.’
‘So I will, when I hae solaced you into a religious frame o’ mind to hear me wi’ a Christian composity o’ temper; for what I maun tell is, though I say’t mysel, a something.’
‘For goodness and mercy, I entreat you to proceed.—Where is Mr. Milrookit? where is Robina?’
‘Ye need na hope to see muckle o’ them the night,’ replied the Leddy. ‘Poor folk, they hae gotten their hands filled wi’ cares. O Bell, Bell—when I think o’t—it’s a judgement—it’s a judgement, Bell Fatherlans, aboon the capacity o’ man! Really, when I consider how I hae been directit—and a’ by my own skill, knowledge, wisdom, and understanding—it’s past a’ comprehension. What would my worthy father hae said had he lived to see the day that his dochter won sic a braw estate by her ain interlocutors?—and what would your gudefather hae said, when he was ay brag bragging o’ the conquest he had made o’ the Kittlestonheugh o’ his ancestors—the whilk took him a lifetime to do—had he seen me, just wi’ a single whisk o’ dexterity, a bit touch of the law, make the vera same conquest for your son Jamie Walkinshaw in less than twa hours?’
‘You astonish me! to what do you allude? I am amazed, and beginning to be confounded,’ said Mrs. Charles.
‘Indeed it is no wonder,’ replied the Leddy; ‘for wha would hae thought it, that I, an aged ’literate grandmother, would hae bamboozlet an Embrough Writer to the Signet on a nice point, and found out the ground of an action for damages against that tod o’ a bodie Pitwinnoch, for intromitting wi’ ane of the four pleas o’ the Crown? Had I kent what I ken now, uncle Watty might still hae been to the fore, and in the full possession of his seven lawful senses—for, woman as I am, I would hae been my own man o’ business,counsel, and executioner, in the concos mentos sederunt—whereby I was so ’frauded o’ my rightful hope and expectation. But Pitwinnoch will soon fin’ the weight o’ the lion’s paw that his doobileecity has roused in me.’
Mrs. Charles, who was much amused by the exultation with which the Leddy had recounted her exploits in the bed and board plea, perceiving that some new triumph equally improbable had occurred, felt her anxieties subside into curiosity; and being now tolerably mistress of her feelings, she again inquired what had happened.
‘I’ll tell you,’ said the Leddy; ‘and surely it’s right and proper you his mother should know, that, through my implementing, it has been discovered that your son is an heir-male according to law!’
‘No possible!’ exclaimed the delighted mother, the whole truth flashing at once on her mind.
‘Aye, that’s just as I might hae expectit—a prophet ne’er got honour in his own country; and so a’ the thank I’m to get for my pains is a no possible!’ said the Leddy offended, mistaking the meaning of the interjection. ‘But it is a true possible; and Milrookit has consentit to adjudicate the estate—so ye see how ye’re raised to pride and affluence by my instrumentality. Firstly, by the bed and board plea, I found a mean to revisidend your ’nuity; and secondly, I hae found the libel proven, that Beenie, being a dochter, is an heir-female, and is, by course of law, obligated to renounce the estate.’
‘This is most extraordinary news, indeed,’ rejoined Mrs. Charles, ‘after for so many years believing my poor children so destitute;’ and a flood of tears happily came to her relief.
‘But, Bell Fatherlans,’ resumed the Leddy, ‘I’ll tak you wi’ the tear in your ee, as both you and Jamie maun be sensible, that, but for my discerning, this great thing never could hae been brought to a come-to-pass. I hope ye’ll confabble thegither anent the loss I sustained by what happened to uncle Watty, and makme a reasonable compensation out o’ the rents; the whilk are noo, as I am creditably informed, better than fifteen hundred pounds per anno Domini, that’s the legality for the year o’ our Lord;—a sma’ matter will be a great satisfaction.’
‘Indeed,’ said Mrs. Charles, ‘James owes you much; and your kindness in giving him the bill so generously, I know, has made a very deep impression on his heart.’
‘He was ay a blithe and kindly creature,’ exclaimed the Leddy, wiping her eye, as if a tear had actually shot into it—‘and may be it winna fare the waur wi’ him when I’m dead and gone. For I’ll let you into a secret—it’s my purpose to mak a last will and testament, and cut off Milrookit wi’ a shilling, for his horridable niggerality about the bed and board concern. Na, for that matter, as ye’ll can fen noo without ony ’nuity, but your ain son’s affection, I hae a great mind, and I’ll do’t too—that’s what I will—for fear I should be wheedled into an adversary by my dochter Meg for the Milrookits,—I’ll gie the thousand pound heritable bond to your Mary for a tocher; is not that most genteel of me? I doot few families hae had a grandmother for their ancestor like yours.’
Some further conversation to the same effect was continued, and the injustice which Milrookit had attempted seemed to Mrs. Charles considerably extenuated by the readiness with which he had acknowledged the rights of her son. For, notwithstanding all the Leddy’s triumphant oratory and legal phraseology, she had no difficulty in perceiving the true circumstances of the case.
In the opinion of all the most judicious critics, the Iliad terminated with the death of Hector; but, as Homer has entertained us with the mourning of the Trojans, and the funeral of the hero, we cannot, in our present circumstances, do better than adopt the rule of that great example. For although it must be evident to all our readers that the success of the Leddy in her second law-suit, by placing the heir, in despite of all the devices and stratagem of parchments and Pitwinnoch, in possession of the patrimony of his ancestors, naturally closes theEntail, a work that will, no doubt, outlive the Iliad, still there were so many things immediately consequent on that event, that our story would be imperfect without some account of them.
In the first place, then, Walkinshaw, immediately after the receipt of Frazer’s letter, acquainting him with the discovery of the provisions of the deed, returned to Edinburgh, where he arrived on the third day after his friend had heard from Whitteret, the Glasgow writer, that Milrookit, without objection, agreed to surrender the estate. The result of which communication was an immediate and formal declaration from Walkinshaw of his attachment to Ellen, and a cheerful consent from her father, that their marriage, as soon as the necessary preparations could be made, should be celebrated at Glengael.
Upon French Frazer the good fortune of his brother officer was no less decisive, for any scruple that he might have felt in his attachment to Mary, on account of his own circumstances, was removed by an assurance from Walkinshaw that he would, as soon as possible, make a liberal provision both for her and his mother; and in the same letter which Walkinshaw wrote home on his return to Edinburgh, and in which he spoke of his own marriage, he entreated his mother’s consent that Mary should accept the hand of Frazer.
On Mrs. Eadie, the fulfilment, as she called it, of her visions and predictions, had the most lamentable effect. Her whole spirit became engrossed with the most vague and mystical conceptions; and it was soon evident that an irreparable ruin had fallen upon one of the noblest of minds. Over her latter days we shall, therefore, draw a veil, and conclude her little part in our eventful history with simply mentioning that she never returned to Camrachle; but sank into rest in the visionary beatitude of her parental solitudes.
Her husband, now a venerable old man, still resides as contentedly as ever in his parish; and, when we last visited him, in his modest mansion, he informed us that he had acquiesced in the wishes of his elders by consenting to receive a helper and successor in the ministry. So far, therefore, as the best, the most constant, and the kindest friends of the disinherited family are concerned, our task is finished: but we have a world of things to tell of the Leddy and the Milrookits, many of which we must reserve till we shall have leisure to write a certain story of incomparable humour and pathos.
In the meantime, we must proceed to mention, that the Leddy, finding it was quite unnecessary to institute any further proceedings, to eject the Milrookits from Kittlestonheugh, as they of their own accord removed, as soon as they found a suitable house, returned to her residence in the royal city, where she resumed her domestic thrift at the spinning-wheel, having resolved not to go on with her action of damages against Pitwinnoch, till she had seen her grandson, who, prior to his marriage, was daily expected.
‘For,’ as she said to his mother, after consulting with Mr. Whitteret, and stating her grounds of action, ‘it is not so clear a case as my great bed and board plea—and Mr. Whitteret is in some doubt, whether Pitwinnoch should be sent to trial by my instrumentality, or that of Jamie—very sensibly observing—for he’s really a man o’ the heighth o’ discretion yon—that it would be hard for an aged gentlewoman like me,with a straitened jointure, to take up a cause that would, to a moral certainty, be defendit, especially when her grandson is so much better able to afford the expense. The which opinion of counsel has made me sit down with an arrest of judgement for the present, as the only reason I hae for going to law at all is to mak money by it. Howsever, if ye can persuade Jamie to bequeath and dispone to me his right to the damage, which I mean to assess at a thousand pounds, I’ll implement Mr. Whitteret to pursue.’
‘I dare say,’ replied Mrs. Charles, ‘that James will very readily give up to you all his claim; but Mr. Pitwinnoch having rectified the mistake he was in, we should forgive and forget.’
‘A’ weel I wat, Bell Fatherlans, I needna cast my pearls o’ great price before swine, by waring my words o’ wisdom wi’ the like o’ you. In truth, it’s an awfu’ story when I come to think how ye hae been sitting like an effigy on a tomb, wi’ your hands baith alike syde, andmenti moriwritten on your vesture and your thigh, instead o’ stirring your stumps, as ye ought to hae done—no to let your bairns be rookit o’ their right by yon Cain and Abel, the twa cheatrie Milrookits. For sure am I, had no I ta’en the case in hand, ye might hae continued singing Wally, wally, up yon bank, and wally, wally, down yon brae, a’ the days o’ your tarrying in the tabernacles o’ men.’
Her daughter-in-law admitted, that she was, indeed, with all her family, under the greatest obligations to her,—and that, in all probability, but for her happy discovery of the errand on which the writer to the signet had come to Glasgow, they might still have had their rights withheld.
In conversations of this description the time passed at Glasgow, while the preparations for the marriage of Walkinshaw and Ellen were proceeding with all expedient speed at Glengael. Immediately after the ceremony, the happy pair, accompanied by Mary, returned to Edinburgh, where it was determined the marriage of Mary with French Frazer should becelebrated, Mrs. Charles and the old lady being equally desirous of being present.
We should not, however, be doing justice to ourselves, as faithful historians, were we to leave the reader under an impression that the Leddy’s visit to the lawful metropolis was entirely dictated by affectionate consideration for her grandchildren. She had higher and more public objects, worthy, indeed, of the spirit with which she had so triumphantly conducted her causes. But with that remarkable prudence, so conspicuous in her character, she made no one acquainted with the real motives by which she was actuated,—namely, to acquire some knowledge of the criminal law, her father not having, as she said, ‘paid attention to that Court of Justice, his geni being, like her own, more addicted to the civilities of the Court o’ Session.’
She was led to think of embarking in this course of study, by the necessity she was often under of making, as she said, her servants ‘walk the carpet’; or, in other words, submit to receive those kind of benedictions to which servants are, in the opinion of all good administrators of householdry, so often and so justly entitled. It had occurred to her that, some time or another, occasion might require that she should carry a delinquent handmaid before the Magistrates, or even before the Lords; indeed, she was determined to do so on the very first occurrence of transgression, and, therefore, she was naturally anxious to obtain a little insight of the best practice in the Parliament House, that she might, as she said herself, be made capable of implementing her man of business how to proceed.
Walkinshaw, by promising to take every legal step that she herself could take against Pitwinnoch, had evinced, as she considered it, such a commendable respect for her judgement, that he endeared himself to her more than ever. He was, in consequence, employed to conduct her to the Parliament House, that she might hear the pleadings; but by some mistakehe took her to that sink of sin the Theatre, whenOthellowas performing, where, as she declared, she had received all the knowledge of the criminal law she could require, it having been manifestly shown that any woman stealing a napkin ought to be prosecuted with the utmost rigour. But her legal studies were soon interrupted by the wedding festivities; and when she returned to Glasgow, alas! she was not long permitted to indulge her legal pursuits; for various causes combined to deprive the world of our incomparable heroine. Her doleful exit from the tents of Time, Law, and Physic, it is now our melancholy duty to relate, which we shall endeavour to do with all that good-humoured pathos for which we are so greatly and so deservedly celebrated. If nobody says we are so distinguished, we must modestly do it ourselves, never having been able to understand why a candidate for parliament or popularity should be allowed to boast of his virtues more than any other dealer in tales and fictions.