To find the way into ’t.
“Well, Cuthbert, my man, are you back from your gowks errand? The month is far on now; it has taken you long,” said Mrs. Charteris.
“I have first to present my friend to you, mother,” said the advocate; “and as he will be Mr. Harry Muir only a day or two longer, we must make the most of him while he bears his old name.”
“So you were right after all?” said the old lady, lifting up her hands. “Dear me, Cuthbert, to think of that! You see, Mr. Muir, I could not believe his story, and prophesied that he was sure to fail—though I am very glad I was wrong. You are welcome to Edinburgh, and I wish you joy of your inheritance.”
With a natural diffidence, which flushed his cheek, and slightly restrained his speech, Harry Muir made his acknowledgments. His dress had been most carefully overlooked before he left Glasgow that morning, and his eye was shining with animation and high hope.
Mrs. Charteris felt “her heart warm” to the stranger as he took the great easy-chair in the corner, and bent forward towards Cuthbert as to his guide and counsellor. The attitude and expression charmed Cuthbert’s mother. She felt that her son had done much for this young man—that he would do more—and Harry Muir became dear to her good heart, because he made her son dearer, and still more worthy of love.
“We must be off again instantly, mother,” said Cuthbert, “to meet Davie Lindsay at my office. Ah, Davie is a slow man; he has not an eye for a mystery like some other people; but I suppose I must not boast. To-day we shall do a little business; to-morrow we propose a trip up the Firth by the Stirling steamer, and a glance at Allenders. Muir, it will take lots of money to put that house in decent order, you may be sure.”
Harry laughed; twenty pounds would have been lots of money to Harry two days ago. It struck him as being slightly ludicrous, and certainly quite amusing, all this grandeur of expectation. That he should have a house to repair, and lots of money to repair it—he, Harry Muir!
“It is a fine country, is it not?” he asked, in some haste, to cover his nervous joy. “I have never seen those Links of Forth, and their very name raises one’s expectation. Did you not say this house of enchantment was near the river?”
“He knows no more than we do, Mr. Muir,” said Mrs. Charteris. “You will take your bed here, of course? No doubt it is a bonnie country, but mind you must look for nothing like the Clyde.”