In furtherance of the arrangement agreed upon, as we have described in the foregoing chapter, as soon as Mr. Keelevin had retired, Claud summoned Walter into the parlour. It happened, that the Leddy, during the period of the lawyer’s visit, had been so engaged in another part of the house, that she was not aware of the conference, till, by chance, she saw him riding down the avenue. We need not, therefore, say that she experienced some degree of alarm, at the idea of a lawyer having been with her husband, unknown to her; and particularly, when, so immediately after his departure, her darling was requested to attend his father.

The mother and son entered the room together. Walter came from the nursery, where he had been dandling his child, and his appearance was not of the most prepossessing kind. From the death of his wife, in whose time, under her dictation, he was brushed up into something of a gentlemanly exterior, he had become gradually more and more slovenly. He only shaved on Saturday night, and buttoned his breeches knees on Sunday morning. Nor was the dress of Leddy Grippy at all out of keeping with that of her hopeful favourite. Her time-out-of-mind red quilted silk petticoat was broken into many holes;—her thrice dyed double tabinet gown, of bottle-green, with large ruffle cuffs, was in need of another dip; for, in her various culinary inspections, it had received many stains, and the superstructure of lawn and catgut, ornamented with ribbons, dyed blae in ink, surmounting her ill-toiletted toupee, had every appearance of having been smoked into yellow, beyond all power of blanching in the bleacher’s art.

‘And so, gudeman,’ said she, on entering the room, ‘ye hae had that auld sneck-drawer, Keelevin, wi’ you? I won’er what you and him can hae to say in sic a clandestine manner, that the door maun be ay steekit when ye’re thegither at your confabbles. Surely there’s nae honesty that a man can hae, whilk his wife ought na to come in for a share of.’

‘Sit down, Girzy Hypel, and haud thy tongue,’ was the peevish command which this speech provoked.

‘What for will I haud my tongue? a fool posture that would be, and no very commodious at this time; for ye see my fingers are coomy.’

‘Woman, t’ou’s past bearing!’ exclaimed her disconcerted husband.

‘An it’s nae shame to me, gudeman; for every body kens I’m a grannie.’

The Laird smote his right thigh, and shook his left hand, with vexation; presently, however, he said,—

‘Weel, weel; but sit ye down, and Watty, tak t’ou a chair beside her; for I want to consult you anent a paper that I’m mindit to hae drawn out for a satisfaction to you a’; for nane can tell when their time may come.’

‘Ye ne’er made a mair sensible observe, gudeman, in a’ your days,’ replied the Leddy, sitting down; ‘and it’s vera right to make your will and testament; for ye ken what a straemash happened in the Glengowlmahallaghan family, by reason o’ the Laird holographing his codicil; whilk, to be sure, was a dreadfu’ omission, as my cousin, his wife, fand in her widowhood; for a’ the moveables thereby gaed wi’ the heritage to his auld son by the first wife—even the vera silver pourie that I gied her mysel wi’ my own hands, in a gift at her marriage—a’ gaed to the heir.’

‘T’ou kens,’ said Claud, interrupting her oration, ‘that I hae provided thee wi’ the liferent o’ a house o’ fifteen pounds a-year, furniture, and a jointure of a hundred and twenty over and aboon the outcoming o’ thy father’s gathering. So t’ou canna expek, Girzy, that I would wrang our bairns wi’ ony mair overlay on thy account.’

‘Ye’re grown richer, gudeman, than when we came thegither,’ replied the Leddy; ‘and ne’er a man made siller without his wife’s leave. So it would be a most hard thing, after a’ my toiling and moiling, to make me nae better o’t than the stricts o’ the law in my marriage articles and my father’s will; whilk was a gratus amous, that made me nane behauden to you.—No, an ye mean to do justice, gudeman, I’ll get my thirds o’ the conquest ye hae gotten sin the time o’ our marriage; and I’ll be content wi’ nae less.’

‘Weel, weel, Girzy, we’ll no cast out about a settlement for thee.’

‘It would be a fearful thing to hear tell o’ an we did,’ replied the Leddy: ‘Living as we hae lived, a comfort to ane anither for thirty years, and bringing up sic a braw family, wi’ so meikle credit. No, gudeman, I hae mair confidence in you than to misdoot your love and kindness, noo that ye’re drawing so near your latter end as to be seriously thinking o’ making a will. But, for a’ that, I would like to ken what I’m to hae.’

‘Very right, Girzy; very right,’ said Claud; ‘but, before we can come to a clear understanding, me and Watty maun conform in a bit paper by oursels, just that there may be nae debate hereafter about his right to the excambio we made for the Plealands.’

‘I’ll no put hand to ony drumhead paper again,’ said Watty, ‘for fear it wrang my wee Betty Bodle.’

Although this was said in a vacant heedless manner, it yet disturbed the mind of his father exceedingly, for the strange obstinacy with which the natural had persisted in his refusal to attend the funeral of his wife, had shown that there was something deeper and more intractable in his character than any one had previously imagined. But opposition had only the effect of making Claud more pertinacious, while it induced him to change his mode of operation. Perceiving, or at least being afraid that he might again call his obduracy into action, he accordingly shifted his ground, and, instead of his wonted method of treating Walter with commands and menaces, he dexterously availed himself of the Leddy’s auxiliary assistance.

‘Far be it, Watty, frae me, thy father,’ said he, ‘to think or wis wrang to thee or thine; but t’ou kens that in family settlements, where there’s a patch’t property like ours, we maun hae conjunk proceedings. Noo, as I’m fain to do something satisfactory to thy mother, t’ou’ll surely never objek to join me in the needfu’ instruments to gie effek to my intentions.’

‘I’ll do every thing to serve my mother,’ replied Walter, ‘but I’ll no sign ony papers.’

‘Surely, Watty Walkinshaw,’ exclaimed the old Leddy, surprised at this repetition of his refusal, ‘ye would na see me in want, and driven to a needcessity to gang frae door to door, wi’ a meal-pock round my neck, and an oaken rung in my hand?’

‘I would rather gie you my twa dollars, and the auld French half-a-crown, that I got long syne, on my birthday, frae grannie,’ said Watty.

‘Then what for will ye no let your father make a rightfu’ settlement?’ cried his mother.

‘I’m sure I dinna hinder him. He may mak fifty settlements for me; I’ll ne’er fin’ fau’t wi’ him.’

‘Then,’ said the Leddy, ‘ye canna objek to his reasonable request.’

‘I objek to no reasonable request; I only say, mother, that I’ll no sign ony paper whatsomever, wheresomever, howsomever, nor ever and ever—so ye need na try to fleetch me.’

‘Ye’re an outstrapolous ne’er-do-well,’ cried the Leddy, in a rage, knocking her neives smartly together, ‘to speak to thy mother in that way; t’ou sall sign the paper, an te life be in thy body.’

‘I’ll no wrang my ain bairn for father nor mother; I’ll gang to Jock Harrigals, the flesher, and pay him to hag aff my right hand, afore I put pen to law-paper again.’

‘This is a’ I get for my love and affection,’ exclaimed the Leddy, bursting into tears; while her husband, scarcely less agitated by the firmness with which his purpose was resisted, sat in a state of gloomy abstraction, seemingly unconscious of the altercation. ‘But,’ added Mrs. Walkinshaw, ‘I’m no in thy reverence, t’ou unnatural Absalom, to rebel sae against thy parents. I hae maybe a hoggar, and I ken whan I die, wha s’all get the gouden guts o’t—Wilt t’ou sign the paper?’

‘I’ll burn aff my right hand in the lowing fire, that I may ne’er be able to write the scrape o’ a pen;’ and with these emphatic words, said in a soft and simple manner, he rose from his seat, and was actually proceeding towards the fire-place, when a loud knocking at the door disturbed, and put an end to, the conversation. It was a messenger sent from old Lady Plealands, to inform her daughter of Charles’s malady, and to say that the doctor, who had been called in, was greatly alarmed at the rapid progress of the disease.