In the meantime, the Leddy was doing all in her power to keep up the spirits of the young couple, by the reiterated declaration, that, as soon as her son ‘had come to himsel’’, as she said, ‘he would come down with a most genteel settlement;’ but day after day passed, and there was no indication of any relenting on his part; and Robina, as we still must continue to call her, was not only depressed with the thought of her rashness, but grieved for the effect it had produced on her mother. None of the party, however, suffered more than the Laird of Dirdumwhamle. He heard of the acceleration with which the indisposition of Mrs. Walkinshaw was proceeding to a crisis, and, knowing the sentiments of his brother-in-law with respect to male heirs, he could not disguise to himself the hazard that he ran of seeing his son cut out from the succession to the Kittlestonheugh estate; and the pang of this thought was sharpened and barbed by the reflection, that he had himself contributed and administered to an event which, but for the marriage, would probably have been procrastinated for years, during which it was impossible to say what might have happened. At Camrachle, the news of the marriage diffused unmingled satisfaction. Mrs. Charles Walkinshaw saw in it the happy escape of her son from a connexion that might have embittered his life; and cherished the hope that her brother-in-law would still continue his friendship and kindness. Walkinshaw himself was still more delighted with the event than his mother. He laughed at the dexterity with which his grandmother had brought it about; and, exulting in the feeling of liberty which it gave to himself, he exclaimed, ‘We shall now see whether, indeed, my uncle was actuated towards me by the affection he professed, or by some motive of which the springs are not yet discovered.’ The minister, who was present at this sally, said little; but he agreed with his young friend, that the event would soon put his uncle’s affections to the test. ‘I cannot explain to myself,’ was his only observation, ‘why we should all so unaccountably distrust the professions of your uncle, and suppose, with so little reason, in truth against the evidence of facts, that he is not actuated by the purest and kindest motives.’ ‘That very suspicion,’ said Mrs. Eadie mysteriously, ‘is to me a sufficient proof that he is not so sincere in his professions as he gets the credit of being. But I know not how it is, that, in this marriage, and in the sudden illness of his wife, I perceive the tokens of great good to our friends.’ ‘In the marriage,’ replied the minister, ‘I certainly do see something which gives me reason to rejoice; but I confess that the illness of Mrs. Walkinshaw does not appear to me to bode any good. On the contrary, I have no doubt, were she dying, that her husband will not be long without a young wife.’