Part 32 (1/2)
”Canna ye sit still a wee, man, an' let me spear after my auld freens at Glenfern? Hoo's Grizzy, an' Jacky, and Nicky? Aye workin awa at the pills an' the drogs?---he, he! I ne'er swallowed a pill, nor gied a doit for drogs aw my days, an' see an ony of them'll rin a race wi' me whan they're naur five score.”
Mr. Douglas here paid her some compliments upon her appearance, which were pretty graciously received; and added that he was the bearer of a letter from his Aunt Grizzy, which he would send along with a roebuck and brace of moor-game.
”Gin your roebuck's nae better than your last, at weel it's no worth the sendin'-poor dry fisinless dirt, no worth the chowing; weel a wat I begrudged my teeth on't. Your muirfowl was na that ill, but they're no worth the carryin; they're dong cheap i'the market enoo, so it's nae great compliment. Gin ye had brought me a leg o' gude mutton, or a cauler sawmont, there would hae been some sense in't; but ye're ane o'
the fowk that'll ne'er harry yoursel' wi' your presents; it's but the pickle poother they cost you, an' I'se warran' ye're thinkin mail' o'
your ain diversion than o' my stamick, when ye're at the shootin' o'
them, puir beasts.”
Mr. Douglas had borne the various indignities levelled against himself and his family with a philosophy that had no parallel in his life before; but to this attack upon his game he was not proof. His colour rose, his eyes flashed fire, and something resembling an oath burst from his lips as he strode indignantly towards the door.
His friend, however, was too nimble for him. She stepped before him, and, breaking into a discordant laugh, as she patted him on the back, ”So I see ye're just the auld man, Archie,--aye ready to tak the strums, an' ye dinna get a' thing yer ain wye. Mony a time I had to fleech ye oot o' the dorts whan ye was a callant. Div ye mind hoo ye was affronted because I set ye doon to a cauld pigeon-pie, an' a tanker o' tippenny, ae night to ye're fowerhoors, afore some leddies--he, he, he! Weel a wat, yer wife maun hae her ain adoos to manage ye, for ye're a c.u.mstairy chield, Archie.”
Mr. Douglas still looked as if he was irresolute whether to laugh or be angry.
”Come, come, sit ye do on there till I speak to this bairn,” said she, as she pulled Mary into an adjoining bedchamber, which wore the same aspect of chilly neatness as the one they had quitted. Then pulling a huge bunch of keys from her pocket she opened a drawer, out of which she took a pair of diamond earrings. ”Hae, bairn,” said she as she stuffed them into Mary's hand; ”they belanged to your father's grandmother. She was a gude woman, an' had fouran'-twenty sons an' dochters, an' I wiss ye nae war fortin than just to hae as mony. But mind ye,” with a shake of her bony finger, ”they maun a be Scots. Gin I thought ye wad mairry ony pock-puddin', fient haed wad ye hae gotten frae me. Noo, had ye're tongue, and dinna deive me wi' thanks,” almost pus.h.i.+ng her into the parlour again; ”and sin ye're gaun awa the morn, I'll see nae mair o' ye enoo--so fare ye weel. But, Archie, ye maun come an' tak your breakfast wi' me. I hae muckle to say to you; but ye manna be sae hard upon my baps as ye used to be,” with a facetious grin to her mollified favourite, as they shook hands and parted.
”Well, how do you like Mrs. Macshake, Mary?” asked her uncle as they walked home.
”That is a cruel question, uncle,” answered she, with a smile. ”My grat.i.tude and my taste are at such variance,” displaying her splendid gift, ”that I know not how to reconcile them.”
”That is always the case with those whom Mrs. Macshake has obliged,”
returned Mr. Douglas. ”She does many liberal things, but in so ungracious a manner that people are never sure whether they are obliged or insulted by her. But the way in which she receives kindness is still worse. Could anything equal her impertinence about my roebuck? Faith, I've a good mind never to enter her door again!”
Mary could scarcely preserve her gravity at her uncle's indignation, which seemed so disproportioned to the cause. But, to turn the current of his ideas, she remarked that he had certainly been at pains to select two admirable specimens of her countrywomen for her.
”I don't think I shall soon forget either Mrs. Gawffaw or Mrs Macshake,”
said she, laughing.
”I hope you won't carry away the impression that these two _lusus naturae_ specimens of Scotchwomen,” said her uncle. ”The former, indeed, is rather a sort of weed that infests every soil; the latter, to be sure, is an indigenous plant. I question if she would have arrived at such perfection in a more cultivated field or genial clime. She was born at a time when Scotland was very different from what it is now. Female education was little attended to, even in families of the highest rank; consequently, the ladies of those days possess a _raciness_ in their manners and ideas that we should vainly seek for in this age of cultivation and refinement. Had your time permitted, you could have seen much good society here; superior, perhaps, to what is to be found anywhere else, as far as mental cultivation is concerned. But you will have leisure for that when you return.”
Mary acquiesced with a sigh. _Return_ was to her still a melancholy-sounding word. It reminded her of all she had left--of the anguish of separation--the dreariness of absence; and all these painful feelings were renewed in their utmost bitterness when the time approached for her to bid adieu to her uncle. Lord Courtland's carriage and two respectable-looking servants awaited her; and the following morning she commenced her journey in all the agony of a heart that fondly clings to its native home.
END OF VOL. I.
_Printed _by R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh._
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MARRIAGE (VOL II)
A Novel by Susan Ferrier
”Life consists not of a series of ill.u.s.trious actions; the greater part of our time pa.s.ses in compliance with necessities--in the performance of daily duties--in the removal of small inconveniences--in the procurement of petty pleasures; and we are well or ill at ease, as the main stream of life glides on smoothly, or is ruffled by small and frequent interruption.”--JOHNSON.