The old lady took no notice of these and other interjections of the same meaning, which her daughter continued to vent, but looking askance and steadily at Claud, who seemed for a minute deeply and moodily agitated, she said,-- ‘Ye say nothing, Mr. Walkinshaw.’ ‘What can I say?’ was his answer.--‘I had a better hope for Charlie,--I thought the year would hae cooled him,--and am sure Miss Betty Bodle would hae been a better bargain.’ ‘Miss Betty Bodle!’ exclaimed the grandmother, ‘she’s a perfect tawpy.’ ‘Weel, weel,’ said Grippy, ‘it mak’s no odds noo what she is,--Charlie has ravelled the skein o’ his own fortune, and maun wind it as he can.’ ‘That will be no ill to do, Mr. Walkinshaw, wi’ your helping hand. He’s your first born, and a better-hearted lad never lived.’ ‘Nae doubt I maun help him,--there can be nae doubt o’ that; but he canna expek, and the world can ne’er expek, that I’ll do for him what I might hae done had he no been so rash and disobedient.’ ‘Very true, Mr. Walkinshaw,’ said the gratified old lady, happy to find that the reconciliation was so easily effected; and proud to be the messenger of such glad tidings to the young couple, she soon after returned to Glasgow. But scarcely had she left the house, when Claud appeared strangely disturbed,--at one moment he ran hastily towards his scrutoire, and opened it, and greedily seized the title-deeds of his property,--the next he closed it thoughtfully, and retreating to his seat, sat down in silence. ‘What’s the matter wi’ you, gudeman? ye were na sae fashed when my mother was here,’ said his wife. ‘I’ll do nothing rashly--I’ll do nothing rashly,’ was the mysterious reply. ‘Eh, mither, mither,’ cried Walter, bolting into the room,--‘what would you think, our Charlie’s grown a wife’s gudeman like my father.’ ‘Out o’ my sight, ye ranting cuif,’ exclaimed Claud, in a rapture of rage, which so intimidated Walter that he fled in terror. ‘It’s dreadfu’ to be sae tempted,--and a’ the gude to gang to sic a haverel,’ added Claud, in a low troubled accent, as he turned away and walked towards the window. ‘Nae doubt,’ said his wife, ‘it’s an awfu’ thing to hear o’ sic disobedience as Charlie in his rashness has been guilty o’.’ ‘It is, it is,’ replied her husband, ‘and many a ane for far less hae disinherited their sons,--cut them off wi’ a shilling.’ ‘That’s true,’ rejoined the Leddy of Grippy. ‘Did na Kilmarkeckle gie his only daughter but the legacy o’ his curse, for running away wi’ the Englisher captain, and leave a’ to his niece Betty Bodle?’ ‘And a’ she has might hae been in our family but for this misfortune.--When I think o’ the loss, and how pleased her father was when I proposed Charlie for her--It’s enough to gar me tak’ some desperate step to punish the contumacious reprobate.--He’ll break my heart.’