The scene in the parlour of Grippy, after the inquiry, was of the most solemn and lugubrious description.—The Leddy sat in the great chair, at the fireside, in all the pomp of woe, wiping her eyes, and, ever and anon, giving vent to the deepest soughs of sorrow. Mrs. Charles, with her son leaning on her knee, occupied another chair, pensive and anxious. George and Mr. Pitwinnoch sat at the table, taking an inventory of the papers in the scrutoire, and Walter was playfully tickling his adopted daughter on the green before the window, when Mrs. Milrookit, with her husband, the Laird of Dirdumwhamle, came to sympathize and condole with their friends, and to ascertain what would be the pecuniary consequences of the decision to them.
‘Come awa, my dear,’ said the Leddy to her daughter, as she entered the room;—‘Come awa and tak a seat beside me. Your poor brother, Watty, has been weighed in the balance o’ the Sheriff, and found wanting; and his vessels o’ gold and silver, as I may say in the words o’ Scripture, are carried away into captivity; for I understand that George gets no proper right to them, as I expeckit, but is obligated to keep them in custody, in case Watty should hereafter come to years o’ discretion. Hegh Meg! but this is a sair day for us a’—and for nane mair sae than your afflicted gude-sister there and her twa bairns. She’ll be under a needcessity to gang back and live again wi’ my mother, now in her ninety-third year, and by course o’ nature drawing near to her latter end.’
‘And what’s to become of you?’ replied Mrs. Milrookit.
‘O I’ll hae to bide here, to tak care o’ every thing; and an aliment will be alloot to me for keeping poor Watty. Hegh Sirs! Wha would hae thought it, that sic a fine lad as he ance was, and preferred by his honest father as the best able to keep the property right, would thus hae been, by decreet o’ court, proven a born idiot?’
‘But,’ interrupted Mrs. Milrookit, glancing compassionately towards her sister-in-law, ‘I think, since so little change is to be made, that ye might just as weel let Bell and her bairns bide wi’ you—for my grandmother’s income is little enough for her ain wants, now that she’s in a manner bedrid.’
‘It’s easy for you, Meg, to speak,’ replied her mother;—‘but if ye had an experiment o’ the heavy handfu’ they hae been to me, ye would hae mair compassion for your mother. It’s surely a dispensation sair enough, to hae the grief and heart-breaking sight before my eyes of a demented lad, that was so long a comfort to me in my widowhood. But it’s the Lord’s will, and I maun bend the knee o’ resignation.’
‘Is’t your intent, Mr. George,’ said the Laird o’ Dirdumwhamle, ‘to mak any division o’ what lying money there may hae been saved since your father’s death?’
‘I suspect there will not be enough to defray the costs of the process,’ replied George; ‘and if any balance should remain, the house really stands so much in need of repair, that I am persuaded there will not be a farthing left.’
‘’Deed,’ said the Leddy, ‘what he says, Mr. Milrookit, is oure true; the house is in a frail condition, for it was like pu’ing the teeth out o’ the head o’ Watty to get him to do what was needful.’
‘I think,’ replied the Laird o’ Dirdumwhamle, ‘that since ye hae so soon come to the property, Mr. George, and no likelihood o’ any molestation in the possession, that ye might let us a’ share and share alike o’ the gethering, and be at the outlay o’ the repairs frae the rental.’