“Too late! too late! too late!” moaned Everage.
“Too late? No, it isn’t. You have no fatal malady. You are only broken down by hard work! You will recover in the Highlands. Think how your children will enjoy the freedom and fine air of the mountains. And you can take them to Killcrichtoun and enter on possession as soon as you like. The necessary deeds of conveyance of the land shall be made out as soon as I can get the slow lawyers to do it.”
“It is too much! it is too much! Great Heaven! this is too much to bear! You overwhelm me, my lord!” groaned Everage.
“But why do you say so? Everage! look here! I really do think that you have more right—a great deal more right to the estate than I have. You and all your ancestors were British born. I and my immediate progenitors were American born. What right had I to come over here and claim this title and estate? None whatever in right, whatever I might have had in law. And I cannot continue to hold it and to transmit it to my son, unless I expatriate myself and become a British subject. And I will not do that. Therefore I do not want Killcrichtoun. A man is not even to be thanked for giving away what he don’t want. As I said before, I shall make over the whole of the landed estate to you. I wish to Heaven I could also give you the title; but that cannot be so transferred, I believe; so the title must be dropped; for, of course, I cannot continue to bear it in my own country—it would make me simply ridiculous. When, however, you become the owner of Killcrichtoun, although you cannot be the baron, yet you will have the territorial title, according to the custom of Scotland. You will be called ‘Killcrichtoun’ or ‘Everage of Killcrichtoun.’ Come, come! cheer up, man!”
“Too much! it is too much! too much and too late!” groaned the poor gentleman, as he sat with his hands clasped tightly around his head, his bosom heaving and his eyes streaming with tears.
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE PEACE-OFFERING.—Continued.
To Alick there seemed something awful in Everage’s tremendous emotion. He had been a very handsome, fine-looking man, with that natural air of majesty and grace which not even the bitterness of poverty and servitude could take from him; but now he was all broken down.
Deep compassion moved the heart of Alick as he gazed on him.
“What is the matter, Everage?” he softly inquired.
“Coals of fire! Coals of fire!” answered the conscience-stricken man. And covering his bowed face with his hands, ‘he wept bitterly,’ as repentant Peter wept.