``This old gentleman,'' said I, fixing my eye on
the painted panel, ``seems to have had his arms
painted as well as Mr Treddles---that is, if that
painting in the corner be a scutcheon.''
``Ay, ay---cushion, just sae, they maun a' hae
their cushions; there's sma' gentry without that;
and so the arms, as they ca' them, of the house of
Glentanner, may be seen on an auld stane in the
west end of the house. But to do them justice,
they didna propale sac muckle about them as poor
Mr Treddles did;---it's like they were better used
to them.''
``Very likely.---Are there any of the old family
in life, goodwife?''
``No,'' she replied; then added, after a moment's
hesitation---``not that I know of,''---and the wheel,
which had intermitted, began again to revolve.
``Gone abroad, perhaps?'' I suggested.
She now looked up, and faced me---``No, sir.
There were three sons of the last laird of Glentanner,
as he was then called; John and William
were hopeful young gentlemen, but they died early
---one of a decline, brought on by the mizzles, the
other lost his life in a fever. It would hae been
lucky for mony ane that Chrystal had gane the
same gate.''
``Oh---he must have been the young spendthrift
that sold the property? Well, but you
should not have such an ill-will against him: remember
necessity has no law; and then, goodwife,
be was not more culpable than Mr Treddles, whom
you are so sorry for.
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