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Updated: August 29, 2024
Cornelius Brook Dingwall, Esq., M.P., was very haughty, solemn, and portentous. He had, naturally, a somewhat spasmodic expression of countenance, which was not rendered the less remarkable by his wearing an extremely stiff cravat. He was wonderfully proud of the M.P. attached to his name, and never lost an opportunity of reminding people of his dignity.
Miss Brook Dingwall was one of that numerous class of young ladies, who, like adverbs, may be known by their answering to a commonplace question, and doing nothing else. On the present occasion, this talented individual was seated in a small library at a table covered with papers, doing nothing, but trying to look busy, playing at shop.
But, death to his hopes! as he entered the eastern end of the straggling village, the awful form of Davie Dingwall, a sly, dry, hard-fisted, shrewd country attorney, who had already acted against the family of Ravenswood, and was a principal agent of Sir William Ashton, trotted in at the western extremity, bestriding a leathern portmanteau stuffed with the feu-charters of the hamlet, and hoping he had not kept Mr.
When at last we landed, my foot was so benumbed and painful that I could move a step only with greatest agony. Two meetings, however, were in some kind of way conducted; but the projected visit to Dingwall and other places had to be renounced, the snow lying too deep for any conveyance to carry me, and my foot crying aloud for treatment and skill.
Dingwall informed him that Miss Avondale had sailed for England with the Dornton family, he was more conscious of a loss in the stranger girl's departure. "I suppose Miss Avondale takes charge of of the boy, sir?" he said quietly. Mr. Dingwall gave him a quick glance. "Possibly. Sir William has behaved with great er consideration," he replied briefly.
He began life as a stable-boy with Bailie Robertson, of the National Hotel, Dingwall, when tenant of the farm of Kinkell, Conon Bridge. At the age of seventeen he went to Inverness and became an apprentice draper with Mr William Mackay, late of the Clan Tartan Warehouse. In this capacity he served two years, but finding mercantile life distasteful to him, he enlisted in the 92nd Regiment.
But as this plot had been foreseen, the messenger returned by a different and distant road, and thus escaped the snare that was laid for him. After he had been in vain expected for some time, Mr. Dingwall had orders to made especial inquiry among his clients of Wolf's Hope, whether such a domestic belonging to the Marquis of A had actually arrived at the neighbouring castle.
For, freed of any illusion or youthful fancy now, a purely unselfish gratitude to the unknown man filled his heart. In the lapse of his sentiment he clung the more closely to this one honest romance of his life. One afternoon, at the close of business, he was a little astonished to receive a message from Mr. Dingwall, the deputy manager, that he wished to see him in his private office.
Setting her down to whist was a half-yearly piece of generalship on the part of the Miss Crumptons; it was necessary to hide her somewhere, on account of her being a fright. The interesting Lavinia Brook Dingwall was the only girl present, who appeared to take no interest in the proceedings of the evening.
Dingwall, settling his chin more comfortably in his checked cravat, "in case Sir William should speak of him to you." Randolph was staggered. The abrupt revelation of his benefactor's name and fate, casually coupled with an invitation to dinner, shocked and confounded him. Perhaps Mr.
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