To them succeeded the mother of Walkinshaw.
‘Come away, Bell Fatherlans,’ said the Leddy—‘sit down beside me;’ and she took her kindly by the hand. ‘The Milrookits, auld and young, hae been here mair ravenous than the worms and cloks of the tomb, for they but devour the dead body; but yon greedy caterpillars would strip me o’ leaf and branch afore my time. There was Dirdumwhamle sympathising for a something over and aboon what Meg’s to get by the will. Then came Beenie, another of the same, as the Psalmist says, simpering, like a yird tead, for my silver teapot, and syne naething less would serve her gudeman but a solemneesing wheedlie for the auld gold watch. But I’ll sympathise, and I’ll simper, and I’ll wheedle them.—Hae, tak my keys, and gang into the desk-head, and ye’ll fin’ a bonny sewt pocketbook in the doocot hole next the window, bring’t to me.’
Mrs. Charles did as she was desired; and when the pocketbook was brought, the old Leddy opened it, and, taking out one of her Robin Carricks, as she called her bills, she said,—
‘Bring me a pen that can spell, and I’ll indoss this bit hundred pound to thee, Bell, as an over and aboon; and when ye hae gotten’t, gang and bid Jamie and Mary come to see me, and I’ll gie him the auld gold watch, and her the silver teapot, just as a reward to the sympathizing, simpering, and wheedling Milrookits. For between ourselves, Bell, my time is no to be lang noo amang you. I feel the clay-cold fingers o’ Death handling my feet; so when I hae settled my worldly concernments, ye’ll send for Dr. De’ilfear, for I would na like to mount into the chariots o’ glory without the help o’ an orthodox.’
All that the Leddy required was duly performed. She lingered for several days; but, at the end of a week from the commencement of her illness, she closed her eyes, and her death was, after the funeral, according to the Scottish practice, announced in that loyal and well-conducted old paper, the Glasgow Courier, as having taken place, ‘to the great regret of all surviving friends.’
CHAPTER CI
We have often lamented that so many worthy people should be at the expense and trouble of making last wills and testaments, and yet never enjoy what passes at the reading of them. On all the different occasions where we have been present at such affecting ceremonies, it was quite edifying to see how justly the sorrow was apportioned to the legacies; those enjoying the greatest being always the most profoundly distressed; their tears, by some sort of sympathy, flowing exactly in accordance with the amount of the sums of money, or the value of the chattels which they were appointed to receive.
But on no other occasion have we ever been so much struck with the truth of this discovery as on that when, after attending the Leddy’s remains to the family sepulchre, our acquaintance, Dirdumwhamle, invited us to return to the Leddy’s house, in order to be present at the solemnity. Considering the tenderness of our feelings, and how much we respect the professed sincerity of mankind, we ought, perhaps, in justice to ourselves, knowing how incapable we are of withstanding the mournful melancholy of such posthumous rites, to have eschewed the invitation of our sighing and mourning friend.
We were, however, enticed, by a little curiosity, to walk with him arm in arm from the interment, suggesting to him, on the way, every topic of Christian consolation suitable on such occasions, perceiving how much he stood in need of them all.
When we entered the parlour, which had been so often blithened with the jocose spirit of its defunct mistress, we confess that our emotions were almost too great for our fortitude, and that, as we assured the Laird of Dirdumwhamle, our sensibility was so affected that we could, with the utmost difficulty, repress our hysterical sobbings, which he professed with no less sincerity entirely to believe, Alas! such scenes are too common in this transitory scene of things.