‘I hope and trust,’ said Leddy Grippy, as George returned from conducting the lawyer to the door, ‘that ye’ll hae mair compassion for your mother than to be sway’t by the crooked counsels o’ yon quirkie bodie. I could see vera weel that he has a because o’ his ain for keeping his thumb on Watty’s unnaturality. But Geordie, he’s no surely the only lawyer in the town? I wat there are scores baith able and willing to tak the business by the hand; and if there shou’d be nane o’ a sufficient capacity in Glasgow, just tak a step in til Embro’, where, I hae often heard my honest father say, there are legions o’ a capacity to contest wi’ Belzebub himsel.’

‘I am very anxious, mother, to do every thing to promote your happiness,’ was the reply; ‘but the world will be apt to accuse me of being actuated by some sinister and selfish motive. It would be most disgraceful to me were I to fail.’

‘It will be a black burning shame to alloo a daft man any longer to rule and govern us like a tyrant wi’ a rod o’ iron, pooking and rooking me, his mother, o’ my ain lawful jointure and honest hainings, forbye skailing and scattering his inheritance in a manner as if ten pound notes were tree-leaves at Hallowe’en.’

‘I am quite sensible of the truth and justice of all you say; but you know the uncertainty of the law,’ said George, ‘and the consequences would be fatal to me were we not to succeed.’

‘And what will be the consequences if he were taking it in his head to marry again? He would mak nae scruple of sending me off frae Grippy at an hour’s warning.’

This touched the keenest nerve of her son’s anxieties; and he was immediately alarmed by a long visionary vista of unborn sons, rising between him and the succession to the estate;—but he only appeared to sympathize with his mother.

‘It’s not possible,’ said he, ‘even were he to marry again, that he could be so harsh. You have lived ever since your marriage with my father at Grippy. It’s your home, and endeared to you by many pleasing recollections. It would be extreme cruelty now, in your declining years, to force you to live in the close air, and up the dirty turnpike stairs o’ Glasgow.’

‘It would soon be the death o’ me,’ exclaimed the Leddy, with a sigh, wiping one of her eyes with the corner of her apron. ‘In short, Geordie, if ye dinna step out and get him put past the power o’ marrying, I’ll regard you as little better than art and part in his idiocety. But it’s time I were taking the road, for they’ll a’ be marvelling what keeps me. There’s, however, ae thing I would advise you, and that is, to take gude care and no mint what we hae been speaking o’ to living creature, for nobody can tell what detriment the born idiot might do to us baith, were he to get an inkling before a’s ready to put the strait waistcoat o’ the law on him; so I redde you set about it in a wary and wily manner, that he may hae nae cause to jealouse your intent.’

There was, however, no great occasion for the latter part of this speech, George being perfectly aware of all the difficulties and delicacies of the case; but he said,—

‘Did he ever attempt actually to strike you?’

‘Oh, no,’ replied his mother; ‘to do the fool thing justice, it’s kindly enough in its manner; only it will neither be governed nor guided by me as it used to be; which is a sore trial.’

‘Because,’ rejoined George, ‘had he ever dared to do so, there would then have been less trouble or scruple in instituting proceedings against him.’

‘Na; an it’s ony way to commode the business, we might soon provoke him to lift his hand; but it’s a powerful creature, and I’m fear’t. However, Geordie, ye might lay yoursel out for a bit slaik o’ its paw; so just come o’er the morn’s morning and try; for it’ll no do to stand shilly-shallying, if we hope to mak a right legality o’t.’

Cowardice is the best auxiliary to the police, and George had discretion enough not to risk the danger of rousing the sleeping lion of his brother’s Herculean sinews. But, in other respects, he took his mother’s advice; and, avoiding the guilt of causing an offence, in order that he might be able to prosecute the offender, he applied to Gabriel Pitwinnoch, the writer, from whose character he expected to encounter fewer scruples and less scrutiny than with Mr. Keelevin.

In the meantime, the Leddy, who had returned home to Grippy, preserved the most entire reserve upon the subject to all the inmates of the family, and acted her part so well, that even a much more suspicious observer than her daughter-in-law would never have suspected her of double dealing. Indeed, any change that could be perceived in her manner was calculated to lull every suspicion,—for she appeared more than usually considerate and attentive towards Walter, and even condescended to wheedle and coax him on different occasions, when it would have been more consonant to her wonted behaviour had she employed commands and reproaches.

In the course of a week after the interview with Mr. Keelevin, George went to Edinburgh, and he was accompanied in his journey by the wary Gabriel Pitwinnoch. What passed between them on the road, and who they saw, and what advice they received in the intellectual city, we need not be particular in relating; but the result was, that, about a week after their return, Gabriel came to Grippy, accompanied by a stranger, of whose consequence and rank it would appear the Leddy had some previous knowledge, as she deported herself towards him with a degree of ceremonious deference very unusual to her habits. The stranger, indeed, was no less a personage than Mr. Threeper the advocate, a gentleman of long standing and great practice in the Parliament House, and much celebrated for his shrewd perception of technical flaws, and clever discrimination of those nicer points of the law that are so often at variance with justice.

It happened, that, when this learned doctor of the Caledonian Padua arrived with his worthy associate, Mrs. Charles Walkinshaw was in the fields; but, the moment her son James saw him, he was so struck with his appearance, that he ran to tell her. Walter also followed him, under the influence of the same feeling, and said,—

‘Come in, Bell Fatherlans, and see what a warld’s won’er Pitwinnoch the writer has brought to our house. My mother says it’s a haudthecat, and that it gangs about the town o’ Embro’, walking afore the Lords, in a black gown, wi’ a wig on’ts head. I marvel what the creature’s come here for. It has a silver snuffbox, that it’s ay pat-patting; and ye would think, to hear it speak, that King Solomon, wi’ a’ his hundreds o’ wives and concubines, was but a fool to him.’

Mrs. Charles was alarmed at hearing of such a visitor; for the journey of George and Pitwinnoch to Edinburgh immediately occurred to her, and a feeling of compassion, mingled with gratitude for the kindness which Walter had lately shown to herself and her children, suggested that she ought to put him on his guard.

‘Walter,’ said she, ‘I would not advise you to go near the house while the two lawyers are there,—for who knows what they may do to you? But go as fast as ye can to Glasgow, and tell Mr. Keelevin what has happened; and say that I have some reason to fear it’s a visit that bodes you no good, and therefore ye’ll stand in need of his advice and assistance.’

The natural, who had an instinctive horror of the law, made no reply, but, with a strong expression of terror in his countenance, immediately left her, and went straight to Glasgow.