He took his way down the walk again, and went quite round the broad lawn, and she had time for a good many troubled thoughts before he came back.
“I doubt ye’re overworking yourself, George,” said she. She put out her hand to draw forward a garden chair that stood beyond her, and he did not refuse it, as she was afraid he might, but sat down beside her. “Where are the girls?” asked he. “They are busy up the stair—about May’s dress, I think. But there is nothing to hinder them coming, if ye’re wanting them.”
“No. I’m no’ wanting them. I have something to say to you, and I shall find no better time. I am going to make a new will.”
“Well?”
“I have waited long, but if any thing were to happen to me, there would be endless trouble—if—unless—” He paused a moment and then added, “I know not well what to do.”
“Need ye do any thing at once?”
“I think I should. Life is uncertain, though mine may be no more so than that of other men. But no man should put off settling his affairs, for the sake of those that are to come after him. I wish to do justly, but I will not divide the land, and I will not burden it.”
“No, it wouldna be weel to divide the land nor to burden it,” said Miss Jean.
There was a long silence and then Mr Dawson said gravely, felling into the Scottish tongue as he and the rest of them were apt to do when much moved.
“Gin ony stranger were to go through Portie the day and speir at ane and anither up and doon the street, as to who had been the successful man o’ these pairts for the last five and twenty years or mair, there’s little doubt whose name would be given them. And yet—my life looks and feels to me the day—awfully like a failure.”