‘I fear,’ replied Charles, with simplicity, ‘that I hae done that already, for Bell and me were married yesterday. I could na suffer to see her snooled and cast down any longer by every fat-pursed wife that would triumph and glory in a new gown.’
‘Married, Charlie!’ said the old lady with an accent of surprise, mingled with sorrow; ‘Married! weel, that’s a step that canna be untrodden, and your tribulation is proof enough to me that you are awakened to the consequence. But what’s to be done?’
‘Nothing, Mem, but only to speak a kind word for us to my father,’ was the still simple answer of the simple young husband.
‘I’ll speak for you, Charlie, I can do that, and I’ll be happy and proud to gie you a’ the countenance in my power; but your father, Charlie—the gude forgie me because he is your father—I’m darkened and dubious when I think o’ him.’
‘I hae a notion,’ replied Charles, ‘that we need be no cess on him: we’re content to live in a sma’ way; only I would like my wife to be countenanced as becomes her ain family, and mair especially because she is mine, so that, if my father will be pleased to tak her, and regard her as his gude-dochter, I’ll ask nothing for the present, but do my part, as an honest and honourable man, to the very uttermost o’ my ability.’
The kind and venerable old woman was profoundly moved by the earnest and frank spirit in which this was said; and she assured him, that so wise and so discreet a resolution could not fail to make his father look with a compassionate eye on his generous imprudence. ‘So gae your ways home to Bell,’ said she, ‘and counsel and comfort her; the day’s raw, but I’ll even now away to the Grippy to intercede for you, and by the gloaming be you here wi’ your bonny bride, and I trust, as I wish, to hae glad tidings for you baith.’
Charles, with great ardour and energy, expressed the sense which he felt of the old lady’s kindness and partiality, but still he doubted the successful result of the mission she had undertaken. Nevertheless, her words inspired hope, and hope was the charm that spread over the prospects of Isabella and of himself, the light, the verdure, and the colours which enriched and filled the distant and future scenes of their expectations with fairer and brighter promises than they were ever destined to enjoy.
CHAPTER XVII
Claud was sitting at the window when he discovered his mother-in-law coming slowly towards the house, and he said to his wife,—
‘In the name o’ gude, Girzy, what can hae brought your mother frae the town on sic a day as this?’