She was one of those
people whose beauty is always a fresh surprise, and she was far more
self-possessed than he was.
"So, Cousin Harry, where am I to begin my congratulations! I did you
and unwitting service when I sent your daughter to search among those
musty old parchments. I knew my father believed in the existence of
some such document, but I thought all those hoards in Delavie House
were devoid of all legal importance, and had been sifted again and
again. Besides, I always meant to settle that old house upon you."
"I have always heard so, cousin," he answered.
"But it was such a mere trifle," she added, "that it never seemed
worth while to set the lawyers to work about that alone, so I waited
for other work to be in hand."
"There is a homely Scottish proverb, my Lady, which declares that the
scrapings of the muckle pot are worth the wee pot fu'. A mere trifle
to you is affluence to us."
"I am sincerely rejoiced at it, Harry" (no doubt she thought she was),
"you will keep up the old name, while my scrupulous lord and master
gives up my poor patrimony to the extortionate creditors for years to
come. It is well that the young lovers have other prospects. So Harry,
you see after all, I kept my word, and your daughter is provided for,"
she continued with an arch smile.
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