‘Watty,’ said the Laird o’ Grippy to his hopeful heir, calling him into the room, after Kilmarkeckle had retired,—

‘Watty, come ben and sit down; I want to hae some solid converse wi’ thee. Dist t’ou hearken to what I’m saying?—Kilmarkeckle has just been wi’ me—Hear’st t’ou me?—deevil an I saw the like o’ thee—what’s t’ou looking at? As I was saying, Kilmarkeckle has been here, and he was thinking that you and his dochter’—

‘Weel,’ interrupted Watty, ‘if ever I saw the like o’ that. There was a Jenny Langlegs bumming at the corner o’ the window, when down came a spider wabster as big as a puddock, and claught it in his arms; and he’s off and awa wi’ her intil his nest;—I ne’er saw the like o’t.’

‘It’s most extraordinar, Watty Walkinshaw,’ exclaimed his father peevishly, ‘that I canna get a mouthful o’ common sense out o’ thee, although I was just telling thee o’ the greatest advantage that t’ou’s ever likely to meet wi’ in this world. How would ye like Miss Betty Bodle for a wife?’

‘O father!’

‘I’m saying, would na she make a capital Leddy o’ the Plealands?’

Walter made no reply, but laughed, and chucklingly rubbed his hands, and then delightedly patted the sides of his thighs with them.

‘I’m sure ye canna fin’ ony fau’t wi’ her; there’s no a brawer nor a better tocher’d lass in the three shires.—What think’st t’ou?’

Walter suddenly suspended his ecstasy; and grasping his knees firmly, he bent forward, and, looking his father seriously in the face, said,—

‘But will she no thump me? Ye mind how she made my back baith black and blue.—I’m frightit.’

‘Haud thy tongue wi’ sic nonsense; that happened when ye were but bairns. I’m sure there’s no a blither, bonnier quean in a’ the kintra side.’

‘I’ll no deny that she has red cheeks, and e’en like blobs o’ honey-dew in a kail-blade; but father—Lord, father! she has a neive like a beer mell.’

‘But for a’ that, a sightly lad like you might put up wi’ her, Watty. I’m sure ye’ll gang far, baith east and west, before ye’ll meet wi’ her marrow; and ye should reflek on her tocher, the whilk is a wull-ease that’s no to be found at ilka dykeside.’

‘Aye, so they say; her uncle ’frauded his ain only dochter, and left her a stocking-fu’ o’ guineas for a legacy.—But will she let me go halver?’

‘Ye need na misdoubt that; na, an ye fleech her weel, I would na be surprised if she would gi’e you the whole tot; and I’m sure ye ne’er hae seen ony woman that ye can like better.’

‘Aye, but I hae though,’ replied Watty confidently.

‘Wha is’t?’ exclaimed his father, surprised and terrified.

‘My mother.’

The old man, sordid as he was, and driving thus earnestly his greedy purpose, was forced to laugh at the solemn simplicity of this answer; but he added, resuming his perseverance,—

‘True! I did na think o’ thy mother, Watty—but an t’ou was ance marriet to Betty Bodle, t’ou would soon like her far better than thy mother.’

‘The fifth command says, “Honour thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land;” and there’s no ae word about liking a wife in a’ the rest.’

‘Weel, weel, but what I hae to say is, that me and Kilmarkeckle hae made a paction for thee to marry his dochter, and t’ou maun just gang o’er the night and court Miss Betty.’

‘But I dinna ken the way o’t, father; I ne’er did sic a thing a’ my days; odd, I’m unco blate to try’t.’

‘Gude forgi’e me,’ said Claud to himself, ‘but the creature grows sillier and sillier every day—I tell thee, Watty Walkinshaw, to pluck up the spirit o’ manhood, and gang o’er this night to Kilmarkeckle, and speak to Miss Betty by yoursel about the wedding.’

‘Atweel, I can do that, and help her to buy her parapharnauls.—We will hae a prime apple-pye that night, wi’ raisins in’t.’

The old man was petrified.—It seemed to him that it was utterly impossible the marriage could ever take place, and he sat for some time stricken, as it were, with a palsy of the mind. But these intervals of feeling and emotion were not of long duration; his inflexible character, and the ardour with which his whole spirit was devoted to the attainment of one object, soon settled and silenced all doubt, contrition, and hesitation; and considering, so far as Walter was concerned, the business decided, he summoned his wife to communicate to her the news,—

‘Girzy Hypel,’ said he as she entered the room, holding by the neck a chicken, which she was assisting the maids in the kitchen to pluck for dinner, and the feathers of which were sticking thickly on the blue worsted apron which she had put on to protect her old red quilted silk petticoat.

‘Girzy Hypel, be nane surprised to hear of a purpose of marriage soon between Watty and Betty Bodle.’

‘No possible!’ exclaimed the Leddy, sitting down with vehemence in her astonishment, and flinging, at the same time, the chicken across her lap, with a certain degree of instinctive or habitual dexterity.

‘What for is’t no possible?’ said the Laird angrily through his teeth, apprehensive that she was going to raise some foolish objection.

‘Na, gudeman, an that’s to be a come-to-pass—let nobody talk o’ miracles to me. For although it’s a thing just to the nines o’ my wishes, I hae ay jealoused that Betty Bodle would na tak him, for she’s o’ a rampant nature, and he’s a sober weel-disposed lad. My word, Watty, t’ou has thy ain luck—first thy grandfather’s property o’ the Plealands, and syne’—She was going to add, ‘sic a bonny braw-tochered lass as Betty Bodle’—but her observation struck jarringly on the most discordant string in her husband’s bosom, and he interrupted her sharply, saying,—

‘Every thing that’s ordained will come to pass; and a’ that I hae for the present to observe to you, Girzy, is, to tak tent that the lad gangs over wiselike, at the gloaming, to Kilmarkeckle, in order to see Miss Betty anent the wedding.’

‘I’m sure,’ retorted the Leddy, ‘I hae no need to green for weddings in my family, for, instead o’ any pleasance to me, the deil-be-licket’s my part and portion o’ the pastime but girns and gowls. Gudeman, ye should learn to keep your temper, and be of a composed spirit, and talk wi’ me in a sedate manner, when our bairns are changing their life. Watty, my lad, mind what your mother says—“Marriage is a creel, where ye maun catch,” as the auld byword runs, “an adder or an eel.” But, as I was rehearsing, I could na hae thought that Betty Bodle would hae fa’en just at ance into your grip; for I had a notion that she was oure souple in the tail to be easily catched. But it’s the Lord’s will, Watty; and I hope ye’ll enjoy a’ manner o’ happiness wi’ her, and be a comfort to ane anither, like your father and me,—bringing up your bairns in the fear o’ God, as we hae done you, setting them, in your walk and conversation, a pattern of sobriety and honesty, till they come to years of discretion, when, if it’s ordained for them, nae doubt they’ll look, as ye hae done, for a settlement in the world, and ye maun part wi’ them, as we are obligated, by course of nature, to part with you.’

At the conclusion of which pathetic address, the old lady lifted her apron to wipe the gathered drops from her eyes, when Watty exclaimed,—

‘Eh! mother, ane o’ the hen’s feathers is playing at whirley wi’ the breath o’ your nostril!’

Thus ended the annunciation of the conjugal felicity of which Grippy was the architect.

After dinner, Walter, dressed and set off to the best advantage by the assistance of his mother, walked, accompanied by his father, to Kilmarkeckle; and we should do him injustice if we did not state, that, whatever might be his intellectual deficiencies, undoubtedly in personal appearance, saving, perhaps, some little lack of mental light in his countenance, he was cast in a mould to find favour in any lady’s eye. Perhaps he did not carry himself quite as firmly as if he had been broken in by a serjeant of dragoons, and in his air and gait we shall not undertake to affirm that there was nothing lax nor slovenly, but still, upon the whole, he was, as his mother said, looking after him as he left the house, ‘a braw bargain of manhood, get him wha would.’