Marriage Part 15

"What was the meaning o' aw that skirling and squeeling I heard a while ago? By my faith, there's nae bearing this din! Thae beasts o' your wife's are eneugh to drive a body oot o' their judgment. But she maun gi'e up thae maggots when she becomes a farmer's wife. She maun get stirks and stots to mak' pets o', if she maun ha'e _four-fitted _favourites; but, to my mind, it wad set her better to be carrying a wiselike wean in her arms, than trailing aboot wi' thae confoonded dougs an' paurits."

Henry coloured, bit his lips, but made no reply to this elegant address of his father's, who continued, "I sent for you, sir, to have some conversation about this farm of Macglashan's; so sit down there till I show you the plans."

Hardly conscious of what he was doing, poor Henry gazed in silent confusion, as his father pointed out the various properties of this his future possession. Wholly occupied in debating within himself how he was to decline the offer without a downright quarrel, he heard, without understanding a word, all the old gentleman's plans and proposals for building dikes, draining moss, etc.; and, perfectly unconscious of what he was doing, yielded a ready a.s.sent to all the improvements that were suggested.

"Then as for the hoose and offices,-let me see," continued the Laird, as he rolled up the plans of the farm, and pulled forth that of the dwelling-house from a bundle of papers. "Ay, here it is. By my troth, ye'll be weel lodged here. The hoose is in a manner quite new, for it has never had a brush upon it yet. And there's a byre--fient a bit, if I would mean the best man i' the country to sleep there himsel.'"

A pause followed, during which Glenfern was busily employed in poring over his parchment; then taking off his spectacles, and surveying his son, "And now, sir, that you've heard a' the oots an' ins o' the business, what think you your farm should bring you at the year's end?"

"I--I--I'm sure--I--I don't know," stammered poor Henry, awakening from his reverie.

"Come, come, gi'e a guess."

"I really--I cannot--I haven't the least idea."

"I desire, sir, ye'll say something directly, that I may judge whether or no ye ha'e common sense," cried the old gentleman angrily.

"I should suppose-I imagine-I don't suppose it will exceed seven or eight hundred a year," said his son, in the greatest trepidation at this trial of his intellect.

"Seven or eight hunder deevils!" cried the incensed Laird, starting up and pushing his papers from him. "By my faith, I believe ye're a born idiot! Seven or eight hunder pounds!" repeated he, at least a dozen times, as he whisked up and down the little apartment with extraordinary velocity, while poor Henry affected to be busily employed in gathering up the parchments with which the floor was strewed.

"I'll tell you what, sir," continued he, stopping; "you're no fit to manage a farm; you're as ignorant as yon coo, an' as senseless as its cauf. Wi' gude management, Clackandow should produce you twahunder and odd pounds yearly; but in your guiding I doot if it will yield the half.

However, tak' it or want it, mind me, sir, that it's a' ye ha'e to trust to in my lifetime; so ye may mak' the maist o't."

Various and painful were the emotions that struggled in Henry's breast at this declaration. Shame, regret, indignation, all burned within him; but the fear he entertained of his father, and the consciousness of his absolute dependence, chained his tongue, while the bitter emotions that agitated him painted themselves legibly in his countenance. His father observed his agitation; and, mistaking the cause, felt somewhat softened at what he conceived his son's shame and penitence for his folly. He therefore extended his hand towards him, saying, "Weel, weel, nae mairaboot it; Clackandow's yours, as soon as I can put you in possession. In the meantime, stay still here, and welcome."

"I--am much obliged to you for the offer, sir; I--feel very grateful for your kindness," at length articulated his son; "but--I--am, as you observe, so perfectly ignorant of country matters, that I--I--in short, I am afraid I should make a bad hand of the business."

"Nae doot, nae doot ye would, if ye was left to your ain discretion; but ye'll get mair sense, and I shall put ye upon a method, and provide ye wi' a grieve; an' if you are active, and your wife managing, there's nae fear o' you."

"But Lady Juliana, sir, has never been accustomed--"

"Let her serve an apprenticeship to your aunts; she couldna be in a better school."

"But her education, sir, has been so different from what would be required in that station," resumed her husband, choking with vexation, at the idea of his beauteous high-born bride being doomed to the drudgery of household cares.

"Edication! what has her edication been, to mak' her different frae other women? If a woman can nurse her bairns, mak' their claes, and manage her hoose, what mair need she do? If she can playa tune on the spinnet, and dance a reel, and play a rubber at whist--nae doot these are accomplishments, but they're soon learnt. Edication! pooh!--I'll be bound Leddy Jully Anie wull mak' as gude a figure by-and-by as the best edicated woman in the country."

"But she dislikes the country, and--"

"She'll soon come to like it. Wait a wee till she has a wheen bairns, an' a hoose o' her ain, an' I'll be bound she'll be happy as the day's lang."

"But the climate does not agree with her," continued the tender husband, almost driven to extremities by the persevering simplicity of his father.

"Stay a wee till she gets to Clackandow! There's no a finer, freer-aired situation in a' Scotland. The air's sharpish, to be sure, but fine and bracing; and you have a braw peat-moss at your back to keep you warm."

Finding it in vain to attempt _insinuating_ his objections to a pastoral life, poor Henry was at length reduced to the necessity of coming to the point with the old gentleman, and telling him plainly that it was not at all suited to his inclinations, or Lady Juliana's rank and beauty.

Vain would be the attempt to paint the fiery wrath and indignation of the ancient Highlander as the naked truth stood revealed before him:--that his son despised the occupation of his fathers, even the feeding of sheep and the breeding of black cattle; and that his high-born spouse was above fulfilling those duties which he had ever considered the chief end for which woman was created. He swore, stamped, screamed, and even skipped with rage, and, in short, went through all the evolutions as usually performed by testy old gentlemen on first discovering that they have disobedient sons and undutiful daughters.

Henry, who, though uncommonly good-tempered, inherited a portion of his father's warmth, became at length irritated at the invectives that were so liberally bestowed on him, and replied in language less respectful than the old Laird was accustomed to hear; and the altercation became so violent that they parted in mutual anger; Henry returning to his wife's apartment in a state of the greatest disquietude he had ever known. To her childish complaints, and tiresome complaints, he no longer vouchsafed to reply, but paced the chamber with a disordered mien, in sullen silence; till at length, distracted by her reproaches, and disgusted with her selfishness, he rushed from the apartment and quitted the house.

CHAPTER XIII.

"Never talk to me; I will weep."

_As You Like It._

TWICE had the dinner bell been loudly sounded by old Donald, and the family of Glenfern were all a.s.sembled, yet their fashionable guests had not appeared. Impatient of delay, Miss Jacky hastened to ascertain the cause. Presently she returned in the utmost perturbation, and announced that Lady Juliana was in bed in a high fever, and Henry nowhere to be found. The whole eight rushed upstairs to ascertain the fact, leaving the old gentleman much discomposed at this unseasonable delay.

Some time elapsed ere they again returned, which they did with lengthened faces, and in extreme perturbation. They had found their n.o.ble niece, according to Miss Jacky's report, in bed-according to Miss Grizzy's opinion, in a brain fever; as she no sooner perceived them enter, than she covered her head with the bedclothes, and continued screaming for them to be gone, till they had actually quitted the apartment."

"And what proves beyond a doubt that our sweet niece is not herself,"

continued poor Miss Grizzy, in a lamentable tone, "is that we appeared to her in every form but our own! She sometimes took us for cats; then thought we were ghosts haunting her; and, in short, it is impossible to tell all the things she called us; and she screams so for Harry to come and take her away that I am sure--I declare--I don't know what's come over her!"

Mrs. Douglas could scarce suppress a smile at the simplicity of the good spinsters. Her husband and she had gone out immediately after breakfast to pay a visit a few miles off, and did not return till near the dinner hour. They were therefore ignorant of all that had been acted during their absence; but as she suspected something was amiss, she requested the rest of the company would proceed to dinner, and leave her to ascertain the nature of Lady Juliana's disorder.

"Don't come near me!" shrieked her Ladyship, on hearing the door open.

"Send Harry to take me away; I don't want anybody but Harry!"--and a torrent of tears, sobs, and exclamations followed.

"My dear Lady Juliana," said Mrs. Douglas, softly approaching the bed, "compose yourself; and if my presence is disagreeable to you I shall immediately withdraw."

"Oh, is it you?" cried her sister-in-law, uncovering her face at the sound of her voice. "I thought it had been these frightful old women come to torment me; and I shall die--I know I shall--if ever I look at them again. But I don't dislike _you;_ so you may stay if you choose, though I don't want anybody but Harry to come and take me away."

A fresh fit of sobbing here impeded her utterance; and Mrs. Douglas, compa.s.sionating her distress, while she despised her folly, seated herself by the bedside, and taking her hand, in the sweetest tone of complacency attempted to soothe her into composure.

"The only way in which you can be less miserable," said Mrs. Douglas in a soothing tone, "is to support your present situation with patience, which you may do by looking forward to brighter prospects. It is _possible_ that your stay here may be short; and it is _certain_ that it is in your own power to render your life more agreeable by endeavouring to accommodate yourself to the peculiarities of your husband's family.

No doubt they are often tiresome and ridiculous; but they are always kind and well-meaning."

"You may say what you please, but I think them all odious creatures; and I won't live here with patience; and I shan't be agreeable to them; and all the talking in the world won't make me less miserable. If you were me, you would be just the same; but you have never been in London--that's the reason."

"Pardon me," replied her sister-in-law, "I spent many years of my life there."

"You lived in London!" repeated Lady Juliana in astonishment. "And how, then, can you contrive to exist here?"

"I not only contrive to exist, but to be extremely contented with existence," said Mrs. Douglas, with a smile. Then a.s.suming a more serious air, "I possess health, peace of mind, and the affections of a worthy husband; and I should be very undeserving of these blessings were I to give way to useless regrets or indulge in impious repinings because my happiness might once have been more perfect, and still admits of improvement."

"I don't understand you," said Lady Juliana, with a peevish yawn. "Who did you live with in London?"

"With my aunt, Lady Audley."

"With Lady Audley!" repeated her sister-in-law in accents of astonishment. "Why, I have heard of her; she lived quite in the world; and gave b.a.l.l.s and a.s.semblies; so that's the reason you are not so disagreeable as the rest of them. Why did you not remain with her, or marry an Englishman? But I suppose, like me, you didn't know what Scotland was!"

Happy to have excited an interest, even through the medium of childish curiosity, in the bosom of her fashionable relative, Mrs. Douglas briefly related such circ.u.mstances of her past life as she judged proper to communicate; but as she sought rather to amuse than instruct by her simple narrative, we shall allow her to pursue her charitable intentions, while we do more justice to her character by introducing her regularly to the acquaintance of our readers.