After Kilmarkeckle had welcomed Grippy and Walter, he began to talk of the hippopotamus, by showing them the outlines of a figure which he intended to fill up with the snuff on the wall. Claud, however, cut him short, by proposing, in a whisper, that Miss Betty should be called in, and that she and Walter should be left together, while they took a walk to discuss the merits of the hippopotamus. This was done quickly, and, accordingly, the young lady made her appearance, entering the room with a blushing giggle, perusing her Titan of a suitor from head to heel with the beam of her eye.

‘We’ll leave you to yoursels,’ said her father jocularly, ‘and, Watty, be brisk wi’ her, lad; she can thole a touzle, I’se warrant.’

This exhortation had, however, no immediate effect, for Walter, from the moment she made her appearance, looked awkward and shamefaced, swinging his hat between his legs, with his eyes fixed on the brazen head of the tongs, which were placed upright astraddle in front of the grate; but every now and then he peeped at her from the corner of his eye with a queer and luscious glance, which, while it amused, deterred her for some time from addressing him. Diffidence, however, had nothing to do with the character of Miss Betty Bodle, and a feeling of conscious superiority soon overcame the slight embarrassment which arose from the novelty of her situation.

Observing the perplexity of her lover, she suddenly started from her seat, and advancing briskly towards him, touched him on the shoulder, saying,—

‘Watty,—I say, Watty, what’s your will wi’ me?’

‘Nothing,’ was the reply, while he looked up knowingly in her face.

‘What are ye fear’t for? I ken what ye’re come about,’ said she; ‘my father has telt me.’

At these encouraging words, he leaped from his chair with an alacrity unusual to his character, and attempted to take her in his arms; but she nimbly escaped from his clasp, giving him, at the same time, a smart slap on the cheek.

‘That’s no fair, Betty Bodle,’ cried the lover, rubbing his cheek, and looking somewhat offended and afraid.

‘Then what gart you meddle wi’ me?’ replied the bouncing girl, with a laughing bravery that soon reinvigorated his love.

‘I’m sure I was na gaun to do you ony harm,’ was the reply;—‘no, as sure’s death, Betty, I would rather cut my finger than do you ony scaith, for I like you so weel—I canna tell you how weel; but, if ye’ll tak me, I’ll mak you the Leddy o’ the Plealands in a jiffy, and my mother says that my father will gie me a hundred pound to buy you parapharnauls and new plenishing.’

The young lady was probably conciliated by the manner in which this was said; for she approached towards him, and while still affecting to laugh, it was manifest even to Walter himself that she was not displeased by the alacrity with which he had come to the point. Emboldened by her freedom, he took her by the hand, looking, however, away from her, as if he was not aware of what he had done; and in this situation they stood for the space of two or three minutes without speaking. Miss Betty was the first to break silence:—

‘Weel, Watty,’ said she, ‘what are ye going to say to me?’

‘Na,’ replied he, becoming almost gallant; ‘it’s your turn to speak noo. I hae spoken my mind, Betty Bodle—Eh! this is a bonny hand; and what a sonsy arm ye hae—I could amaist bite your cheek, Betty Bodle—I could.’

‘Gude preserve me, Watty! ye’re like a wud dog.’

‘An I were sae, I would worry you,’ was his animated answer, while he turned round, and devoured her with kisses; a liberty which she instantaneously resented, by vigorously pushing him from her, and driving him down into her father’s easy chair; his arm in the fall rubbing off half a score of the old gentleman’s snuffy representatives.

But, notwithstanding this masculine effort of maiden modesty, Miss Betty really rejoiced in the ardent intrepidity of her lover, and said, merrily,

‘I redde you, Watty, keep your distance; man and wife’s man and wife; but I’m only Betty Bodle, and ye’re but Watty Walkinshaw.’

‘Od, Betty,’ replied Watty, not more than half-pleased, as he rubbed his right elbow, which was hurt in the fall, ‘ye’re desperate strong, woman; and what were ye the waur o’ a bit slaik o’ a kiss? Howsever, my bonny dawty, we’ll no cast out for a’ that; for if ye’ll just marry me, and I’m sure ye’ll no get any body that can like you half so weel, I’ll do anything ye bid me, as sure’s death I will—there’s my hand, Betty Bodle, I will; and I’ll buy you the bravest satin gown in a’ Glasgow, wi’ far bigger flowers on’t than on any ane in a’ Mrs. Bailie Nicol Jarvie’s aught. And we’ll live in the Plealands House, and do nothing frae dawn to dark but shoo ane another on a swing between the twa trees on the green; and I’ll be as kind to you, Betty Bodle, as I can be, and buy you likewise a side-saddle, and a pony to ride on; and when the winter comes, sowing the land wi’ hailstones to grow frost and snaw, we’ll sit cosily at the chumley-lug, and I’ll read you a chapter o’ the Bible, or aiblins ‘Patie and Rodger’,—as sure’s death I will, Betty Bodle.’

It would seem, indeed, that there is something exalting and inspiring in the tender passion; for the earnest and emphatic manner in which this was said gave a degree of energy to the countenance of Watty, that made him appear in the eyes of his sweetheart, to whom moral vigour was not an object of primary admiration, really a clever and effectual fellow.

‘I’ll be free wi’ you, Watty,’ was her answer; ‘I dinna objek to tak you, but,’—and she hesitated.

‘But what?’ said Watty, still exalted above his wont.

‘Ye maunna hurry the wedding oure soon.’

‘Ye’ll get your ain time, Betty Bodle, I’ll promise you that,’ was his soft answer; ‘but when a bargain’s struck, the sooner payment’s made the better; for, as the copy-line at the school says, “Delays are dangerous.”—So, if ye like, Betty, we can be bookit on Saturday, and cried, for the first time, on Sabbath, and syne, a second time next Lord’s day, and the third time on the Sunday after, and marriet on the Tuesday following.’

‘I dinna think, Watty,’ said she, laying her hand on his shoulder, ‘that we need sic a fasherie o’ crying.’

‘Then, if ye dinna like it, Betty Bodle, I’m sure neither do I, so we can be cried a’ out on ae day, and married on Monday, like my brother and Bell Fatherlans.’

What more might have passed, as the lovers had now come to a perfect understanding with each other, it is needless to conjecture, as the return of the old gentlemen interrupted their conversation; so that, not to consume the precious time of our readers with any unnecessary disquisition, we shall only say, that some objection being stated by Grippy to the first Monday as a day too early for the requisite settlements to be prepared, it was agreed that the booking should take place, as Walter had proposed, on the approaching Saturday, and that the banns should be published, once on the first Sunday, and twice on the next, and that the wedding should be held on the Tuesday following.