"No," said he, "but——" And he stood still, and handed me the letter.
I just glanced my eyes on it, and it fell out of my hand. It showed us that a forgery had been committed upon our house to the extent of ten thousand pounds!—and, oh horrible!—by my own worthless son-in-law, Charles Austin! It was a dreadful trial—I knew not how to act. If I permitted the villain to escape unpunished, I was doing an injustice to society; and, oh, on the other hand, how was it possible that I could send to the gallows the husband of my own bairn! Thomas posted off instantly to London, to see what could be done; and I broke the bitter tidings in the best manner I could to Rachel and her mother. Their distress was even greater than mine. Thomas returned in a few days, and brought us word that the villain had escaped abroad somewhere; but where he could not learn; and it was supposed he had taken his wife and child with him—for they had an infant about eight months old.
It was not the loss of the money, nor even the manner in which it had been lost, that chiefly affected me, but the loss, the ruin, the disgrace of my bairn. Indeed, it made such an impression upon me, that I never was the same man afterwards in any business transaction. Therefore, about twelve months after this melancholy event, I purchased a property in Dumfries-shire, and Priscilla and myself went to reside upon it. I intrusted the entire business to the prudence and experience of Thomas Galloway, and became merely a sleeping partner in the firm.
We had been better than a year in our house in Dumfries-shire—it was about the Christmas time, and Thomas and Rachel were down seeing us, with their little son, who was just beginning to run about and climb upon our knees. It was a remarkably cold and gousty night, and a poor wandering woman came to our door, with a bairn at her breast, and another on her back, and begging a morsel, and a shelter for herself and infants. We were all sitting round the fire, when one of the servants came up and told us concerning her, asking if they might give her a seat by the fire. I never liked to harbour beggars, and, says I—
"No: there is a shilling for her; gie her some broken meat, and tell her to go down to the village—it is only two miles."
"And give her this from me," said Rachel; and Priscilla had her hand in her pocket, when the lass added—
"Poor creature! I dinna believe she is able to crawl as far as the village, for baith her and her infants seem starving to death."
"What like is she?" asked Rachel.
"A bonny young creature, ma'am," answered our servant, "but sair, sair dejected."
"She had better be brought in, father," said my daughter.