The Entail

CHAPTER XLIX

Death, it is said, rarely enters a house without making himself familiar to the inmates. Walter’s daughter, a premature child, had from her birth been always infirm and delicate. In the course of the spring after her grandfather’s death, she evidently grew worse, and towards the end of summer it was the opinion of all who saw her that she could not live long. The tenderness and solicitude of her father knew no bounds. She was, indeed, the sole object that interested him in life; he doated over her with the most single and entire affection; and when she died, he would not believe, nor allow himself to think, she had expired, but sat by the bedside, preserving silence, and preventing her from being touched, lest it should awaken her from a slumber which he fondly imagined was to establish her recovery. No inducement could be contrived to draw him from his vigilant watch, nor by any persuasion could permission be obtained to dress her corpse. George, in the meanwhile, called several times at the house, and took occasion, in going there one day, to ask the Reverend Doctor Denholm to accompany him, under the pretext that perhaps he might prevail with Walter to allow the body to be removed, as it was beginning to grow offensive. But, when they reached the house, Walter was missing – he had suddenly and unobserved quitted the room where the corpse lay, and his mother, availing herself of his absence, was busily preparing for the interment.

They waited some time in expectation of his return, believing he had only walked into the fields, in consequence of the air of the chamber having become intolerable; but, after conversing upwards of an hour on general topics, some anxiety began to be expressed for his appearance, and his mother grew so alarmed, that servants were dispatched in all directions in quest of him. They had not, however, proceeded far, when he was met on the Glasgow road, coming with his niece Mary in his arms, followed by Leddy Plealands’ maid-servant, loudly remonstrating with him for carrying off the child, and every now and then making an attempt to snatch it from his arms.

‘What hae ye been about?’ cried his mother, as she saw him approaching towards the house. He, however, made no answer; but, carrying the child into the nursery, he immediately stripped it naked, and dressed her in the clothes of his own daughter, caressing and pleasing her with a thousand fond assurances – calling her his third Betty Bodle, and betraying all the artless delight and satisfaction with which a child regards a new toy.

Dr. Denholm, happening to be among those who wondered that his brother had permitted him to succeed his father unmolested, and on seeing this indisputable proof of idiocy according to the notions of society, said, —

‘I canna refrain, Mr. George, from telling you that I think it’s no right to alloo such a fine property as your father left, to be exposed to wastrie and ruination in the possession of such a haverel. It’s neither doing justice to the world nor to your ain family; and I redde you look about you – for wha kens what he may do next?’

Such an admonition, the involuntary incitement of the moment, was not lost. George had, in fact, been long fishing for something of the kind, but nothing had occurred to provoke so explicit an opinion of Walter’s obvious incapacity. He, however, replied cautiously, —

‘Some allowance, Doctor, must be made for the consternation of his sorrow; and ye should know that it’s a kittle point of law to determine when a man has or has not his sufficient senses.’

‘’Deed, Dr. Denholm,’ added Lady Grippy, who happened to be present, – ‘what ye say is very true; for I can ne’er abide to think that Watty’s as he ought to be, since he refus’t to make good his honest father’s kind intents to the rest o’ the family. Here am I toiling and moiling frae morning to night for his advantage; and would ye believe me, Doctor, when I tell you, that he’ll no alloo a black bawbee for any needful outlay? and I’m obligated to tak frae my ain jointure money to pay the cost o’ every thing the house stands in need of.’

‘Not possible!’ said George, with every indication of the sincerest astonishment.

‘Whether it’s possible, or whether it’s probable, I ken best mysel,’ replied the Leddy; – ‘and this I ken likewise, that what I say is the even-down truth; and nae farther gane than Mononday was eight days, I paid Deacon Paul, the Glasgow mason, thirteen shillings, a groat, and a bawbee, for the count o’ his sklater that pointed the skews o’ the house at Martinmas; and though I would supplicate, an it were on my knees, like Queen Esther, the doure Ahasuerus, that he is, has no mercy. Indeed, I’ll be nane surprised gin he leaves me to pay a’ the charge o’ his bairn’s burial, which will be a black shame if he does.’

‘This must not be endured,’ said George, gravely; ‘and I am surprised, mother, ye never spoke of such treatment before. I cannot sit patient and hear that ye’re used in such a cruel and unnatural manner.’

‘It would be a blot on your character, Mr. George,’ rejoined the minister, ‘if ye did. Your brother has been from his youth upward an evident idiot; and ever since the death of his wife, ony little wit he had has been daily growing less.’

‘What ye say, Doctor,’ resumed the Leddy, ‘is no to be controverted; for, poor lad, he certainly fell intil a sore melancholic at that time; and it’s my conceit he has ne’er rightly got the better o’t; for he was – hegh, sirs! – he was till that time the kindest o’ a’ my bairns; but, frae the day and hour that his wife took her departel in childbed, he has been a changed creature. Ye’ll mind how outstrapolous and constipated he was at her burial; and it’s wi’ a heavy heart that I maun say’t, when his kind father, soon after, wanted to mak a will and testament to keep us a’ right and comfortable, he was just like to burn the house aboon our heads wi’ his condumacity.’

‘I am well aware of the truth of much that you have said; but it’s a painful thing for a man to think of taking steps against the capacity of his brother,’ replied George. ‘For, in the event of not succeeding, he must suffer great obloquy in the opinion of the world; and you know that, with respect to Walter, the attempt was once made already.’

‘And every body said,’ cried the Leddy, ‘that, but for the devices of auld draughty Keelevin, he would hae been proven as mad as a March hare; and nae doubt, as he kens how he jookit the law afore, he might be o’ an instrumentality were the thing to gang to a revisidendo. No that I would like to see my bairn put into bedlam; at the same time, Dr. Denholm, I would na be doing a Christian and a parent’s part to the lave o’ my family, an I were to mak a mitigation against it.’

‘I do not think,’ replied George, looking inquiringly at the Reverend Doctor – ‘that when a man is proved incapable of conducting his affairs, it is necessary to confine him.’

‘O, no; not at all, Mr. George,’ was the unsuspicious minister’s answer. ‘It would mak no odds to your brother; it would only oblige you to take the management of the estate.’

‘That,’ replied George, ‘would be far from convenient, for the business of the counting-house requires my whole attention. Ye can have no notion, Dr. Denholm, how much this rebellion in America has increased the anxieties of merchants. At the same time, I would be greatly wanting in duty and respect towards my mother, were I to allow her to remain any longer in such an unhappy state, to say nothing of the manifest injustice of obliging her to lay out her own proper jointure in repairs and other expenses of the house.’

Little more passed at that time on the subject; but, in the course of walking back to Glasgow, George was fortified in his intentions by the conversation of the Doctor – or, what is, perhaps, more correct, he appeared so doubtful and scrupulous, that the guileless pastor thought it necessary to argue with him against allowing his delicacy to carry him too far.

CHAPTER L

After the minister and George had left the house, the cares, we should say the enjoyments, of the Leddy were considerably increased, when she had leisure to reflect on the singular transaction by which Walter had supplied himself with another child. What with the requisite preparations for the funeral of his daughter next day, and ‘this new income’, as she called the adopted orphan, ‘that, in itself, was a handling little short o’ a birth,’ she had not, from the death of her husband, found herself half so earnestly occupied as on this sorrowful occasion. The house rang with her admonitions to the servants, and her short quick steps, in consequence of walking with old shoes down at the heel, clattered as cleverly as her tongue. But all this bustle and prodigality of anxieties suffered a sudden suspension, by the arrival of Mrs. Charles Walkinshaw, in quest of her child. The little girl, however, was by this time so delighted with the fondling and caresses of her uncle, that she was averse to return home with her mother.

‘I won’er,’ said Leddy Grippy, ‘how ane in your straitened circumstance, Bell Fatherlans, canna be thankfu’ for sic a gratus amous as this. Watty’s a kind-hearted creature, and ye may be sure that neither scaith nor scant will be alloo’t to come near the wean while it stays in this house. For my part, I think his kidnapping her has been nothing less than an instigation o’ Providence, since he would na be constrained, by any reason or understanding, to settle an aliment on you.’

‘I cannot, however, part with my child to him. You know there are many little peculiarities about Mr. Walter that do not exactly fit him for taking charge of children.’

‘But since he’s willing to bear the cost and charge o’ her,’ said the Leddy, ‘ye should mak no objek, but conform; for ye ken, I’ll hae the direction o’ her edication; and am sure ye would na wis to see her any better brought up than was our Meg, Mrs. Milrookit, who could once play seven tunes and a march on the spinet, and sewed a satin piece, at Embrough, of Adam and Eve eating the forbidden fruit under the tree of life; – the like of which had na before been seen in a’ this kintra side. In short, Bell, my dear, it’s my advice to you to let the lassie bide wi’ us; for, unless Watty is put out o’ the way, it may prove a great thing baith for her and you; for he’s a most ’conomical creature; and the siller he’ll save belyve will be just a portion.’

‘What do you mean,’ replied the young widow, eagerly, ‘about putting him out of the way?’

‘Ah! Bell Fatherlans,’ exclaimed the Leddy, in her most pathetic manner; – ‘little ken ye yet what it is to hae a family. This has, indeed, been a house o’ mourning the day, even though we had na a body in it waiting for interment. The minister has been here wi’ Geordie, and it’s his solid opinion – we a’ ken what a man o’ lair and judgement Dr. Denholm is; – he thinks that Watty’s no o’ a faculty to maintain the salvation of the family property; and when your gude-brother heard how I hae been used, he said, that neither law nor justice should oblige him to let his mother live any longer in this house o’ bondage and land o’ Egypt; so that, when we get the wean put aneath the ground, there aiblins will be some terrogation as to the naturality of Watty’s capacity, which, ye may be sure, is a most sore heart to me, his mother, to hear tell o’. But if it’s the Lord’s will, I maun submit; for really, in some things, Watty’s no to be thol’t; yet, for a’ that, Bell, my dear, I would let him tak his own way wi’ your bairn, till we see what’s to be the upshot. For, and though I maun say it, who is his parent, that it canna be weel denied, that he’s a thought daft by course o’ nature; he may, nevertheless, be decreetit douce enough by course o’ law. Therefore, it’s neither for you nor me to mak or meddle in the matter; but gather the haws afore the snaws, betide whatever may betide.’

We cannot venture to say that Mrs. Charles Walkinshaw was exactly what we should call surprised at this information. She knew enough of the characters of her mother-in-law and of George, to hear even more extraordinary communications from the former unmoved. We need scarcely add, however, that the Leddy’s argument was not calculated with her to produce the effect intended; on the contrary, she said, —

‘What you tell me only serves to convince me of the impropriety I should be guilty of in leaving my child with Walter.’

But their conversation was interrupted at this juncture by the entrance of Walter, leading Mary.

‘I’m come,’ said he, ‘Bell Fatherlans, to tell you that ye’re to gang away hame, and bring Jamie here to stay wi’ us. The house is big enough to haud us a’, and it’ll be a grand ploy to my mother – for ye ken she has such a heart for a thrangerie butt and ben, that, rather than want wark, she’ll mak a baby o’ the beetle, and dance til’t, cracking her thumbs, and singing,

 
Dance to your deddie, my bonny leddie;
Jink through the reelie; jook round and wheelie;
Bob in the setting, my bonny lamb;
And ye’s get a slicie o’ a dishie nicie —
Red-cheekit apples and a mutton ham.
 

So just gang hame at ance, Bell, and bring your laddie, and we’ll a’ live thegither, and rookettycoo wi’ ane anither like doos in a doocot.’

But although Leddy Grippy certainly did like a bustle with all her heart and spirit, she had still that infirmity which ever belongs to human nature gifted with similar propensities, – namely, a throbbing apprehension at the idea of it, such as mankind in general suffer in the prospect of enjoying pleasure; and the expression of this feeling with her took commonly the form and language of repugnance and reluctance, yea sometimes it even amounted to refusal.

‘What say ye?’ cried she to Walter, under a strong impression of it at the moment, – ‘are ye utterly bereav’t o’ your senses, to speak o’ bringing the lade o’ another family on my hands?’

‘I’m sure,’ was his answer, ‘if ye dinna like to tak the pleasure o’t, ye’re free to set up your jointure house, and live the life o’ dowager duchess, for me, mother. But Bell Fatherlans and her bairns are to come here, – for this is my house, ye ken – settlet on me and mine, past a’ power o’ law, by my father – and what’s my ain I’ll mak my ain.’

‘Wha would hae thought o’ sic outcoming o’ kindness as this!’ replied the Leddy. ‘I fancy, Bell, ye’ll hae to come and resident wi’ us?’

‘An she does na,’ said Walter, ‘I’ll gang away where never one kent me, and tak her wee Mary on my back in a basket, like Jenny Nettles – that’s what I will; so put the matter to your knee and straight it.’

‘I’ll mak a bargain, Mr. Walter,’ replied Mrs. Charles, – ‘I’ll leave Mary to-night, and come, after the burial to-morrow, with James, and stay a few days.’

‘Ye’ll stay a’ your days,’ exclaimed Walter; ‘and as ye’re a leddy o’ mair genteelity than my mother, ye shall hae the full rule and power o’ the house, and mak jam and jelly; – a’ the cast o’ her grace and skill gangs nae farther than butter and cheese.’

His mother was confounded, and unable for some time to utter a word. At last, putting her hands firmly into her sides, she said, —

‘My word, but thou’s no blate. But it’s no worth my while to gang intil a passion for a born idiot. Your reign, my lad, ’s no ordaint to be lang, if there’s either law or gospel among the Fifteen at Embro’. To misliken his mother! to misuse me as I were nae better than an auld bachle, and, in a manner, to turn me out the house!’

‘O don’t disturb yourself,’ interposed Mrs. Charles; ‘they were but words of course. You know his humour, and need not be surprised at what he says.’

The indignant mother was not, however, soon appeased, – her wrath for some time burnt fiercely, and it required no little dexterity on the part of her daughter-in-law to allay the altercation which ensued; but in the end her endeavours proved successful, and the result was an arrangement that the child should be left for a day or two, to ascertain whether Walter’s attachment was dictated by caprice or a transfer of his affections. And in order to preserve quiet, and to prevent any extravagance that might be injurious to the little girl, it was also arranged that her mother and brother should likewise spend a few weeks at Grippy.

CHAPTER LI

The news of the arrangement, when communicated to Doctor Denholm and George, at the funeral next day, produced on them very opposite effects. The minister, who was naturally of a warm and benevolent disposition, persuaded himself that the proposal of Walter, to receive his sister-in-law and her family, was dictated by a sense of duty and of religion, and regretted that he had so hastily expressed himself so strongly respecting his incapacity. Indeed, every one who heard the story put upon it nearly the same sort of construction, and applauded the uncouth kindness of the natural as brotherly and Christian.

George, however, saw it, perhaps, more correctly; but he was exceedingly disturbed by the favourable impression which it made on the minds of his acquaintance, and hesitated to indulge his desire to obtain the management of the estate. But still he continued his visits to Grippy, and took every opportunity of drawing the attention of his friends to the imbecility of his brother. Nothing, however, occurred to further his wishes till the term of Martinmas after the incident mentioned in the foregoing chapter; when, on receiving his rents, he presented his sister-in-law with a ten-pound note, at the same time counting out, to the calculation of a halfpenny, the balance he owed his mother of her jointure, but absolutely refusing to repay her any of the money she had, in the meantime, disbursed for different little household concerns and repairs, saying, that all she had laid out was nothing in comparison to what she was due for bed and board. This was the unkindest cut of all; for she justly and truly estimated her services to him as of far more value. However, she said nothing; but next day, on the pretext of going to see her mother, who was now very infirm, and unable to quit her chamber, she went to Glasgow and called on George, to whom she made a loud and long complaint of the insults she had received, and of the total unfitness and unworthiness of his brother to continue uncontrolled in the possession of the estate.

George sympathized with her sorrows and her sufferings like a dutiful son, and comforted her with the assurance that he would lose no time in taking some steps for her relief, and the preservation of the property. And, as she consented to remain that day to dinner, it was thought, considering the disposition Walter had shown to squander his gifts on his sister-in-law, without any consideration for the rest of the family, it might be as well to consult Mr. Keelevin on the occasion. A message was, accordingly, dispatched to the honest lawyer, begging him to call after dinner; in short, every demonstration was made by George to convince his mother how much better her worth was appreciated by him than by his brother; – and she was not only consoled, but delighted with the sincerity of his attentions.

In due time Mr. Keelevin made his appearance; and the Leddy began a strong representation of all the indignities which she had endured, but her son softly and mildly interposed, saying, —

‘It is of no use, my dear mother, to trouble Mr. Keelevin with these things; he knows the infirmities of Walter as well as we do. No doubt,’ he added, turning to the lawyer, ‘you have heard of the very extraordinary manner in which my brother took Mrs. Charles and her family to Grippy.’

‘I really,’ replied the honest-hearted man, ‘had no idea that he possessed so muckle feeling and common sense, but I was very happy to hear’t. For, his own wean being no more, I’m sure he can do nothing better than make up to the disinherited orphans some portion of that which, but for your father’s sudden death, would hae been provided for them.’

George knew not what reply to make to this; but his mother, who, like the rest of her sex, had an answer for all subjects and occasions ever ready, said, —

‘It’s weel to ca’t sense and feeling, but if I were obligated to speak the truth, I would baptize it wi’ another name. It’s no to be rehearsed by the tongue o’ man, Mr. Keelevin, what I hae borne at the hands of the haverel idiot, since the death of him that’s awa – your auld friend, Mr. Keelevin; – he was a man of a capacity, and had he been spared a comfort to me, as he was, and ay sae couthy wi’ his kindness, I would na kent what it is to be a helpless widow. But surely there maun be some way o’ remeid for us a’ in thir straits? It’s no possible that Walter can be alloo’t to riot and ravage in sic a most rabiator-like manner; for I need na tell you, that he’s gane beyond all counsel and admonition. Noo, do ye think, Mr. Keelevin, by your knowledge and skill in law, that we can get him cognost, and the rents and rule o’ the property ta’en out of his hands? for, if he gangs on at the gait he’s going, I’ll be herri’t, and he’ll no leave himself ae bawbee to rub on anither.’

‘What has he done?’ inquired the lawyer, a little thoughtfully.

‘Done! what has he no done? He gied Bell Fatherlans a ten pound note, and was as dour as a smith’s vice in the grip, when I wantit him to refund me a pour o’ ready money that I was obligated to lay out for the house.’

George, who had watched the lawyer’s countenance in the meantime, said, —

‘I doubt, mother, few will agree in thinking of that in the way you do. My sister-in-law stands in need of his kindness, but your jointure is more than you require; for, after all your terrible outlays,’ and he smiled to Mr. Keelevin as he said the words, ‘you have already saved money.’

‘But what’s that to him?’ exclaimed the Leddy. ‘Is nae a just debt a just debt – was na he bound to pay what I paid for him – and is’t no like a daft man and an idiot, to say he’ll no do’t? I’m sure, Mr. Keelevin, I need na tell you that Watty was ne’er truly concos montes. How ye got him made sound in his intellectuals when the law plea was about my father’s will, ye ken best yoursel; but the straemash that was thereanent is a thing to be remembered.’

Mr. Keelevin gave a profound sigh, adding, in a sort of apologistic manner, —

‘But Walter has maybe undergone some change since that time?’

‘Yes,’ said George, ‘the grief and consternation into which he was thrown by the sudden death of his wife had undoubtedly a great effect on his mind.’

‘He was clean dementit at that time,’ cried the Leddy; ‘he would neither buff nor stye for father nor mother, friend nor foe; a’ the King’s forces would na hae gart him carry his wife’s head in a wiselike manner to the kirk-yard. I’m sure, Mr. Keelevin, for ye were at the burial, ye may mind that her father, Kilmarkeckle, had to do’t, and lost his canary snuff by a twirl o’ the wind, when he was taking a pinch, as they said, after lowering her head intil the grave; which was thought, at the time, a most unparent-like action for any man to be about at his only dochter’s burial.’

Mr. Keelevin replied, ‘I will honestly confess to you, that I do think there has of late been signs of a want about Mr. Walter. But in his kindness to his poor brother’s widow and family, there’s great proof and evidence, both of a sound mind, reason, and a right heart. Ye’ll just, Mrs. Walkinshaw, hae to fight on wi’ him as well as ye can, for in the conscience o’ me I would, knowing what I know of the family, be wae and sorry to disturb such a consolatory manifestation of brotherly love.’

‘That’s just my opinion,’ said George, ‘and I would fain persuade my mother to put up with the slights and ill usage to which she is so distressingly subjected – at the same time, I cannot say, but I have my fears, that her situation is likely to be made worse rather than better, for Walter appears disposed, not only to treat her in a very mean and unworthy manner, but to give the whole dominion of the house to Mrs. Charles.’

‘Na,’ exclaimed the Leddy, kindling at this dexterous awakening of her wrongs. ‘He did far waur, he a’maist turn’t me out o’ the house by the shouthers.’

‘Did he lay hands on you, his mother?’ inquired Mr. Keelevin with his professional accent and earnestness. But George prevented her from replying, by saying that his mother naturally felt much molested in receiving so harsh a return for the particular partiality with which she had always treated his brother – and was proceeding in his wily and insidious manner to fan the flame he seemed so anxious to smother. Mr. Keelevin, however, of a sudden, appeared to detect his drift, and gave him such a rebuking look, that he became confused and embarrassed, during which the honest lawyer rose and wished them good afternoon – saying to George, who accompanied him to the door, —

‘The deil needs baith a syde cloak and a wary step to hide his cloven foot – I’ll say nae mair, Mr. George; but dinna mak your poor brother’s bairns waur than they are – and your mother should na be egget on in her anger, when she happens, poor body, to tak the dods now and then – for the most sensible of women hae their turns o’ tantrums, and need baith rein and bridle.’