We are no casuists, and therefore cannot undertake to determine whether Jenny did right or wrong in marrying Auld Robin Gray for the sake of her poor father and mother; especially as it has been ever held by the most approved moralists, that there are principles to be abided by, even at the expense of great and incontrovertible duties. But of this we are quite certain, that there are few trials to which the generous heart can be subjected more severe than a contest between its duties and its affections—between the claims which others have upon the conduct of the man for their advantage, and the desires that he has himself to seek his own gratification. In this predicament stood young Walkinshaw; and at the moment when he took his mother by the hand, the claims of filial duty were undoubtedly preferred to the wishes of love.

‘I am,’ said he, ‘at your disposal, mother—do with me as you think fit.—When I resented the mean opinion that my uncle seemed to hold of me, I forgot you—I thought only of myself. My first duties, I now feel, are due to the world, and the highest of them to my family.—But I wish that I had never known Ellen Frazer.’

‘In that wish, my dear boy, you teach me what I ought myself to do.—No, James, I can never desire nor expect that my children will sacrifice themselves for me—for I regard it as no less than immolation when the heart revolts at the tasks which the hand performs. But my life has long been one continued sorrow; and it is natural that I should shrink at the approach of another and a darker cloud. I will not, however, ask you to remain with your uncle, nor even oppose your resolution to go abroad. But be not precipitate—consider the grief, the anxieties, and the humiliations, that both your father and I have endured, and think, were you united to Ellen Frazer, supposing her father and friends would consent to so unequal a match, what would be her fate were you cut early off, as your father was?—It is the thought of that—of what I myself, with you and for you, have borne, which weighs so grievously at this moment on my spirits.’

‘Do you wish me to return to Glasgow?’ said Walkinshaw with an anxious and agitated voice.

‘Not unless you feel yourself that you can do so without humiliation—for bitter, James, as my cup has been, and ill able as I am to wrestle with the blast, I will never counsel child of mine to do that which may lessen him in his own opinion. Heaven knows that there are mortifications ready enough in the world to humble us—we do not need to make any for ourselves—no, unless you can meet your uncle with a frank face and a free heart, do not return.’

‘I am sure, then, that I never can,’ replied Walkinshaw. ‘I feel as if he had insulted my nature, by venturing to express what he seems to think of me; and a man can forgive almost any injury but a mean opinion of him.’

‘But if you do not go to him, perhaps you will not find it difficult to obtain a situation in another counting-house?’

‘If I am not to return to his, I would rather at once leave the place—I never liked it, and I shall now like it less than ever. In a word, my intention is to go, if possible, to America.’

‘Go where you will, my blessing and tears is all, my dear boy, that I can give you.’

‘Then you approve of my wish to go to America?’

‘I do not object to it, James—It is a difficult thing for a mother to say that she approves of her son exposing himself to any hazard.’

‘What would you have said, could I have obtained a commission in the army and a war raging?’

‘Just what I say now—nor should I have felt more sorrow in seeing you go to a campaign than I shall feel when you leave me to encounter the yet to you untried perils of the world. Indeed, I may say, I should almost feel less, for in the army, with all its hazard, there is a certain degree of assurance, that a young man, if he lives, will be fashioned into an honourable character.’

‘I wish that there was a war,’ said Walkinshaw with such sincere simplicity, that even his mother could scarcely refrain from smiling.

The conversation was, at this juncture, interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Eadie, who immediately perceived that something particular had occurred to disturb the tranquillity of her friend, and, for a moment, she looked at Walkinshaw with an austere and majestic eye. His mother observed the severity of her aspect, and thought it as well at once to mention what had happened.

Mrs. Eadie listened to the recital of his uncle’s proposal, and his resolution to go abroad, with a degree of juridical serenity, that lent almost as much solemnity to her appearance as it derived dignity from her august form; and, when Mrs. Walkinshaw concluded, she said,—

‘We have foreseen all this—and I am only surprised that now, when it has come to pass, it should affect you so much. I dreamt, last night, Mrs. Walkinshaw, that you were dead, and laid out in your winding-sheet. I thought I was sitting beside the corpse, and that, though I was sorrowful, I was, nevertheless, strangely pleased. In that moment, my cousin, Glengael, came into the room, and he had a large ancient book, with brazen clasps on it, under his arm. That book he gave to Ellen Frazer, whom I then saw was also in the room, and she undid the brazen clasps, and opening it, showed her father a particular passage, which he read aloud, and, when he paused, I saw you rise, and, throwing aside the winding-sheet, you appeared richly dressed, with a cheerful countenance, and on your hands were wedding-gloves. It was to tell you this auspicious dream that I came here this morning, and I have no doubt it betokens some happy change in your fortunes, to come by the agency of Glengael. Therefore, give yourself no uneasiness about this difference between James and his uncle; for, you may rest assured, it will terminate in some great good to your family; but there will be a death first, that’s certain.’

Although Walkinshaw was familiar with the occasional gleams of the sibilline pretensions of Mrs. Eadie, and always treated them with reverence, he could not resist from smiling at the earnestness with which she delivered her prediction, saying, ‘But I do not see in what way the dream has anything to do with my case.’

‘You do not see,’ replied the Leddy sternly, ‘nor do I see; but it does not, therefore, follow, that there is no sympathy between them. The wheels of the world work in darkness, James, and it requires the sight of the seer to discern what is coming round, though the auguries of their index are visible to all eyes. But,’ and she turned to Mrs. Walkinshaw, ‘it strikes me, that, in the present state of your circumstances, I might write to my cousin. The possession of Glengael gives him weight with Government, and, perhaps, his influence might be of use to your son.’

This afforded a ray of hope to Walkinshaw, of which he had never entertained the slightest notion, and it also, in some degree, lightened the spirits of his mother. They both expressed their sense of her kindness; and James said gaily, that he had no doubt the omens of her dream would soon be verified; but she replied solemnly,—

‘No! though Glengael may be able, by his interest, to serve you, the agency of death can alone fulfil the vision; but, for the present, let us say no more on that head. I will write to-day to Mr. Frazer, and inquire in what way he can best assist all our wishes.’

In the meantime, the Leddy had been informed by her maid of Walkinshaw’s early departure for Camrachle; and, in consequence, as soon as she had breakfasted, a messenger was dispatched to the counting-house, to request that the Laird might be sent to her when he came to town; but this was unnecessary, for he had scarcely passed a more tranquil night than his nephew; and, before her messenger came back, he was in the parlour with Robina, whom he had brought with him in the carriage to spend the day with one of her friends. Why the young lady should have chosen so unpleasant a day for her visit, particularly as it was a volunteer, and had been, as she said, only concerted with herself after the conversation of the preceding evening, we must allow the sagacity of the reader to discover; but she appeared flurried, and put out of countenance, when her grandmother told her, that she expected Dirdumwhamle and Mrs. Milrookit to dinner, and ‘I think,’ said she, ‘Beenie, that ye ought to bide wi’ me to meet them, for I expect Walky’—so she styled Walkinshaw, their son; ‘and if ye’re no to get the ae cousin, I dinna see but ye might set your cap for the other.’

‘I trust and hope,’ exclaimed the Laird, ‘that she has more sense. Walkinshaw Milrookit has nothing.’

‘And what has Jamie Walkinshaw?’ said the Leddy. ‘’Deed, Geordie, though I canna but say ye’re baith pawky and auld farrant, it’s no to be controverted that ye hae gotten your father’s bee in the bonnet, anent ancestors and forbears, and nae gude can come out o’ ony sic havers. Beenie, my Leddy, ne’er fash your head wi’ your father’s dodrums; but, an ye can hook Walky’s heart wi’ the tail o’ your ee, ye’s no want my helping hand at the fishing.’

‘Mother,’ said George vehemently, ‘I am astonished that you can talk so lightly to the girl. I have my own reasons for being most decidedly averse to any such union. And though I do feel that James has used me ill, and that his headstrong conduct deserves my severest displeasure, I not only think it a duty to bring about a marriage between Robina and him, but will endeavour to act in it as such. Perhaps, had she been entirely free, I might have felt less interest in the business; but knowing, as I now do, that his coldness alone has prevented her from cherishing towards him a just and proper affection, I should be wanting in my obligations as a father, were I not to labour, by all expedient means, to promote the happiness of my child.’

During this speech the young lady appeared both out of countenance and inwardly amused, while her grandmother, placing her hands to her sides, looked at her with a queer and inquisitive eye, and said,—

‘It’s no possible, Beenie Walkinshaw, that thou’s sic a masquerading cutty as to hae beguilt baith thy father and me? But, if ever I had an e’e in my head, and could see wi’ that e’e, it’s as true as the deil’s in Dublin city, that I hae had a discernment o’ thy heart-hatred to Jamie Walkinshaw. But let your father rin to the woody as he will—they’re no to be born that ’ill live to see that I hae a judgement and an understanding o’ what’s what. Howsever, Geordie, what’s to be done wi’ that ne’er-do-well water-wag-tail that’s flown awa to its mother? Poor woman, she canna afford to gie’t drammock. Something maun be done, and wi’ your wis’ for a fresh clecking of the pedigrees o’ the Walkinshaws o’ Kittlestonheugh, that I hae been sae lang deaved and driven doited wi’; “for the space of forty years,” I may say, in the words of the Psalmist, “the race hae grieved me.” Ye canna do better than just tak a hurl in your chaise to Camrachle, and bring him in by the lug and horn, and nail him to the desk wi’ a pin to his nose.’

There was worse advice, the Laird thought, than this; and, after some further remarks to the same effect, he really did set off for Camrachle with the express intention of doing everything in his power to heal the breach, and to conciliate again the affection and gratitude of his nephew.