“For God’s sake, to the point, sir; I have all that by heart,” said the Colonel.
“—To Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, Esq.,” pursued the Bailie, “his heirs and assignees, simply and irredeemably, to be held either a me vel de me—”
“Pray read short, sir.”
“On the conscience of an honest man, Colonel, I read as short as is consistent with style—under the burden and reservation always—”
“Mr. Macwheeble, this would outlast a Russian winter; give me leave. In short, Mr. Bradwardine, your family estate is your own once more in full property, and at your absolute disposal, but only burdened with the sum advanced to repurchase it, which I understand is utterly disproportioned to its value.”
“An auld sang—an auld sang, if it please your Honours,” cried the Bailie, rubbing his hands; “look at the rental book.”
“—Which sum being advanced, by Mr. Edward Waverley, chiefly from the price of his father’s property which I bought from him, is secured to his lady your daughter and her family by this marriage.”
“It is a catholic security,”130 shouted the Bailie, “to Rose Comyne Bradwardine, alias Wauverley, in life-rent, and the children of the said marriage in fee; and I made up a wee bit minute of an antenuptial contract, intuitu matrimonij, so it cannot be subject to reduction hereafter, as a donation inter virum et uxorem.”
It is difficult to say whether the worthy Baron was most delighted with the restitution of his family property or with the delicacy and generosity that left him unfettered to pursue his purpose in disposing of it after his death, and which avoided as much as possible even the appearance of laying him under pecuniary obligation. When his first pause of joy and astonishment was over, his thoughts turned to the unworthy heir-male, who, he pronounced, had sold his birthright, like Esau, for a mess o’ pottage.
“But wha cookit the parritch for him?” exclaimed the Bailie; “I wad like to ken that;—wha but your Honour’s to command, Duncan Macwheeble? His Honour, young Mr. Wauverley, put it a’ into my hand frae the beginning—frae the first calling o’ the summons, as I may say. I circumvented them—I played at bogle about the bush wi’ them—I cajolled them; and if I havena gien Inch-Grabbit and Jamie Howie a bonnie begunk, they ken themselves. Him a writer! I didna gae slapdash to them wi’ our young bra’ bridegroom, to gar them baud up the market. Na, na; I scared them wi’ our wild tenantry, and the MacIvors, that are but ill settled yet, till they durstna on ony errand whatsoever gang ower the doorstane after gloaming, for fear John Heatherblutter, or some siccan dare-the-deil, should tak a baff at them; then, on the other hand, I beflummed them wi’ Colonel Talbot; wad they offer to keep up the price again’ the Duke’s friend? did they na ken wha was master? had they na seen eneugh, by the sad example of mony a puir misguided unhappy body—”
“Who went to Derby, for example, Mr. Macwheeble?” said the Colonel to him aside.
“O whisht, Colonel, for the love o’ God! let that flee stick i’ the wa’. There were mony good folk at Derby; and it’s ill speaking of halters”—with a sly cast of his eye toward the Baron, who was in a deep reverie.
Starting out of it at once, he took Macwheeble by the button and led him into one of the deep window recesses, whence only fragments of their conversation reached the rest of the party. It certainly related to stamp-paper and parchment; for no other subject, even from the mouth of his patron, and he once more an efficient one, could have arrested so deeply the Bailie’s reverent and absorbed attention.
“I understand your Honour perfectly; it can be dune as easy as taking out a decreet in absence.”
“To her and him, after my demise, and to their heirs-male, but preferring the second son, if God shall bless them with two, who is to carry the name and arms of Bradwardine of that ilk, without any other name or armorial bearings whatsoever.”
“Tut, your Honour!” whispered the Bailie, “I’ll mak a slight jotting the morn; it will cost but a charter of resignation in favorem; and I’ll hae it ready for the next term in Exchequer.”
Their private conversation ended, the Baron was now summoned to do the honours of Tully-Veolan to new guests. These were Major Melville of Cairnvreckan and the Reverend Mr. Morton, followed by two or three others of the Baron’s acquaintances, who had been made privy to his having again acquired the estate of his fathers. The shouts of the villagers were also heard beneath in the courtyard; for Saunders Saunderson, who had kept the secret for several days with laudable prudence, had unloosed his tongue upon beholding the arrival of the carriages.
But, while Edward received Major Melville with politeness and the clergyman with the most affectionate and grateful kindness, his father-in-law looked a little awkward, as uncertain how he should answer the necessary claims of hospitality to his guests, and forward the festivity of his tenants. Lady Emily relieved him by intimating that, though she must be an indifferent representative of Mrs. Edward Waverley in many respects, she hoped the Baron would approve of the entertainment she had ordered in expectation of so many guests; and that they would find such other accommodations provided as might in some degree support the ancient hospitality of Tully-Veolan. It is impossible to describe the pleasure which this assurance gave the
