During the journey of George and Pitwinnoch to Edinburgh, a Brief of Chancery had been quietly obtained, directing the Sheriff of the county to summon a jury, to examine into the alleged fatuity of Walter; and the visit of the latter with Mr. Threeper, the advocate, to Grippy, was to meet George, for the purpose of determining with respect to the evidence that it might be requisite to adduce before the inquest. All this was conducted, as it was intended to appear, in a spirit of the greatest delicacy towards the unfortunate fatuus, consistent with the administration of public justice.

‘I can assure you,’ said our friend Gabriel to Mr. Threeper, as they walked towards the house—the advocate perusing the ground as he poked his way along with his cane, and occasionally taking snuff; ‘I can assure you, that nothing but the most imperious necessity could have induced Mr. George Walkinshaw to institute these proceedings; for he is a gentleman of the utmost respectability; and to my knowledge has been long and often urged in vain to get his brother cognost; but, until the idiot’s conduct became so intolerable, that his mother could no longer endure it, he was quite inexorable.’

‘Is Mr. George in affluent circumstances?’ said the advocate, dryly.

‘He is but a young man; the house, however, in which he is a partner is one of the most flourishing in Glasgow,’ was the answer.

‘He has, perhaps, a large family?’

‘O dear no; only one daughter; and his wife,’ said Gabriel, ‘is, I understand, not likely to have any more.’

‘She may, however, have sons, Pitwinnoch,’ rejoined the advocate, wittily—at the same time taking snuff. ‘But you say it is the mother that has chiefly incited Mr. Walkinshaw to this action.’

‘So he told me,’ replied the writer.

‘Her evidence will be most important; for it is not natural that a mother would urge a process of such a nature, without very strong grounds indeed, unless she has some immediate or distinct prospective interest in the result. Have you any idea that such is the case?’

‘I should think not,’ said Gabriel.

‘Do you imagine that such allowance as the Court might grant for the custody of the fatuus would have any influence with her?’ inquired Mr. Threeper, without raising his eyes from the road.

‘I have always understood,’ was the reply, ‘that she is in the possession, not only of a handsome jointure, but of a considerable provision, specially disponed to her by the will of old Plealands, her father.’

‘Ah! was she the daughter of old Plealands?’ said the advocate. ‘It was in a cause of his that I was first retained. He had the spirit of litigation in a very zealous degree.’

In this manner the two redressers of wrongs chattingly proceeded towards Grippy, by appointment, to meet George; and they arrived, as we have related in the foregoing chapter, a few minutes before he made his appearance.

In the meantime, Watty hastened with rapid steps, goaded by a mysterious apprehension of some impending danger, to the counting-house of Mr. Keelevin, whom he found at his desk.

‘Weel, Mr. Walter,’ said the honest writer, looking up from a deed he was perusing, somewhat surprised at seeing him—‘What’s the best o’ your news the day, and what’s brought you frae Grippy?’

‘Mr. Keelevin,’ replied Walter, going towards him on tiptoe, and whispering audibly in his ear, ‘I’ll tell you something, Mr. Keelevin:—twa gleds o’ the law hae lighted yonder; and ye ken, by your ain ways, that the likes o’ them dinna flee afield for naething.’

‘No possible!’ exclaimed Mr. Keelevin; and the recollection of his interview with George and the Leddy flashing upon him at the moment, he at once divined the object of their visit; and added, ‘It’s most abominable;—but ken ye what they’re seeking, Mr. Walter?’

‘No,’ said he. ‘But Bell Fatherlans bade me come and tell you; for she thought I might need your counsel.’

‘She has acted a true friend’s part; and I’m glad ye’re come,’ replied the lawyer; ‘and for her and her bairns’ sake, I hope we’ll be able to defeat their plots and devices. But I would advise you, Mr. Walter, to keep out o’ harm’s way, and no gang in the gate o’ the gleds, as ye ca’ them.’

‘Hae ye ony ark or amrie, Mr. Keelevin, where a body might den himsel till they’re out o’ the gate and away?’ cried Walter timidly, and looking anxiously round the room.

‘Ye should na speak sic havers, Mr. Walter, but conduct yourself mair like a man,’ said his legal friend grievedly. ‘Indeed, Mr. Walter, as I hae some notion that they’re come to tak down your words—may be to spy your conduct, and mak nae gude report thereon to their superiors—tak my advice, and speak as little as possible.’

‘I’ll no say ae word—I’ll be a dumbie—I’ll sit as quiet as ony ane o’ the images afore Bailie Glasford’s house at the head o’ the Stockwell. King William himsel, on his bell-metal horse at the Cross, is a popular preacher, Mr. Keelevin, compared to what I’ll be.’

The simplicity and sincerity with which this was said moved the kind-hearted lawyer at once to smile and sigh.

‘There will, I hope, Mr. Walter,’ said he, ‘be no occasion to put any restraint like that upon yoursel; only it’s my advice to you as a friend, to enter into no conversation with any one you do not well know, and to dress in your best clothes, and shave yoursel,—and in a’ things demean and deport yoursel, like the laird o’ Kittlestonheugh, and the representative of an ancient and respected family.’

‘Oh, I can easily do that,’ replied the natural; ‘and I’ll tak my father’s ivory-headed cane, with the golden virl, and the silver e’e for a tassel, frae ahint the scrutoire, where it has ay stood since his death, and walk up and down the front of the house like a Glasgow magistrate.’

‘For the love o’ Heaven, Mr. Walter,’ exclaimed the lawyer, ‘do nae sic mad-like action! The like o’ that is a’ they want.’

‘In whatna other way, then,’ said Walter helplessly, ‘can I behave like a gentleman, or a laird o’ yird and stane, wi’ the retinue o’ an ancient pedigree like my father’s Walkinshaws o’ Kittlestonheugh?’

‘’Deed,’ said Mr. Keelevin compassionately, ‘I’m wae to say’t—but I doot, I doot, it’s past the compass o’ my power to advise you.’

‘I’m sure,’ exclaimed Walter despairingly, ‘that the Maker was ill aff for a turn when he took to the creating o’ lawyers. The deils are but prentice work compared to them. I dinna ken what to do, Mr. Keelevin—I wish that I was dead, but I’m no like to dee, as Jenny says in her wally-wae about her father’s cow and auld Robin Gray.’

‘Mr. Walter,’ said his friend, after a pause of several minutes, ‘go you to Mrs. Hypel, your grandmother, for the present, and I’ll out to Grippy, and sift the meaning o’ this visitation. When I have gathered what it means, we’ll hae the better notion in what way we ought to fight with the foe.’

‘I’ll smash them like a forehammer,’ exclaimed Walter, proudly. ‘I’ll stand ahint a dike, and gie them a belter wi’ stanes, till I hae na left the souls in their bodies—that’s what I will,—if ye approve o’t, Mr. Keelevin.’

‘Weel, weel, Mr. Walter,’ was the chagrined and grieved reply, ‘we’ll see to that when I return; but it’s a terrible thing to think o’ proving a man non compos mentis for the only sensible action he ever did in all his life. Nevertheless, I will not let myself despond; and I have only for the present to exhort you to get yoursel in an order and fitness to appear as ye ought to be;—for really, Mr. Walter, ye alloo yoursel to gang sae like a divor, that I dinna wonder ye hae been ta’en notice o’. So I counsel you to mak yoursel trig, and no to play ony antics.’

Walter assured him, that his advice would in every respect be followed; and, leaving the office, he went straight to the residence of his grandmother, while Mr. Keelevin, actuated at once by his humanity and professional duty, ordered his horse, and reached Grippy just as the advocate, Mr. Pitwinnoch, and George, were on the point of coming away, after waiting in vain for the return of Walter, whom Mr. Threeper was desirous of conversing with personally.