CHAPTER LXI
On the same evening on which George and his family visited Mrs. Charles at Camrachle, and while she was sitting in the manse parlour, Mrs. Eadie received a letter by the post. It was from her cousin Frazer, who, as heir-male of Frazer of Glengael, her father’s house, would, but for the forfeiture, have been his successor, and it was written to inform her, that, among other forfeited properties, the Glengael estate was to be soon publicly sold, and that he was making interest, according to the custom of the time, and the bearing in the minds of the Scottish gentry in general towards the unfortunate adherents of the Stuarts, to obtain a private preference at the sale; also begging that she would come to Edinburgh and assist him in the business, some of their mutual friends and relations having thought that, perhaps, she might herself think of concerting the means to make the purchase.
At one time, undoubtedly, the hereditary affections of Mrs. Eadie would have prompted her to have made the attempt; but the loss of her children extinguished all the desire she had ever cherished on the subject, and left her only the wish that her kinsman might succeed. Nevertheless, she was too deeply under the influence of the clannish sentiments peculiar to the Highlanders, not to feel that a compliance with Frazer’s request was a duty. Accordingly, as soon as she read the letter, she handed it to her husband, at the same time saying,—
‘I am glad that this has happened when we are about to lose for a time the society of Mrs. Walkinshaw. We shall set out for Edinburgh on Monday, the day she leaves this, and perhaps we may be able to return about the time she expects to be back. For I feel,’ she added, turning towards her, ‘that your company has become an essential ingredient to our happiness.’
Mr. Eadie was so much surprised at the decision with which his wife spoke, and the firmness with which she proposed going to Edinburgh, without reference to what he might be inclined to do, that instead of reading the letter, he looked at her anxiously for a moment, perhaps recollecting the unpleasant incident of their former visit to the metropolis, and said, ‘What has occurred?’
‘Glengael is to be sold,’ she replied, ‘and my cousin, Frazer, is using all the influence he can to prevent any one from bidding against him. Kindness towards me deters some of our mutual friends from giving him their assistance; and he wishes my presence in Edinburgh to remove their scruples, and otherwise to help him.’
‘You can do that as well by letter as in person,’ said the minister, opening the letter; ‘for, indeed, this year we cannot so well afford the expences of such a journey.’
‘The honour of my father’s house is concerned in this business,’ replied the lady, calmly but proudly; ‘and there is no immediate duty to interfere with what I owe to my family as the daughter of Glengael.’
Mrs. Walkinshaw had, from her first interview, admired the august presence and lofty sentiments of Mrs. Eadie; but nothing had before occurred to afford her even a glimpse of her dormant pride and sleeping energies, the sinews of a spirit capable of heroic and masculine effort; and she felt for a moment awed by the incidental disclosure of a power and resolution, that she had never once imagined to exist beneath the calm and equable sensibility which constituted the general tenor of her friend’s character.
When the minister had read the letter, he again expressed his opinion that it was unnecessary to go to Edinburgh; but Mrs. Eadie, without entering into any observation on his argument, said,—