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.