Historical fiction; Montrose, James Graham, Marquis of, 1612-1650 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- Charles I, 1625-1649 -- Fiction
“His lordship’s honour,” said the Highland servant sideling up to Lord
Menteith, and speaking in a very low tone, “his lordship manna speak to
Allan even now, for the cloud is upon his mind.”
Lord Menteith nodded, and took no farther notice of the reserved
mountaineer.
“Said I not,” asked the latter, suddenly raising his stately person
upright, and looking at the domestic--“said I not that four were to
come, and here stand but three on the hall floor?”
“In troth did ye say sae, Allan,” said the old Highlander, “and here’s
the fourth man coming clinking in at the yett e’en now from the stable,
for he’s shelled like a partan, wi’ airn on back and breast, haunch and
shanks. And am I to set her chair up near the Menteith’s, or down wi’
the honest gentlemen at the foot of the table?”
Lord Menteith himself answered the enquiry, by pointing to a seat beside
his own.
“And here she comes,” said Donald, as Captain Dalgetty entered the hall;
“and I hope gentlemens will all take bread and cheese, as we say in the
glens, until better meat be ready, until the Tiernach comes back frae
the hill wi’ the southern gentlefolk, and then Dugald Cook will show
himself wi’ his kid and hill venison.”
In the meantime, Captain Dalgetty had entered the apartment, and walking
up to the seat placed next Lord Menteith, was leaning on the back of it
with his arms folded. Anderson and his companion waited at the bottom
of the table, in a respectful attitude, until they should receive
permission to seat themselves; while three or four Highlanders, under
the direction of old Donald, ran hither and thither to bring additional
articles of food, or stood still to give attendance upon the guests.
In the midst of these preparations, Allan suddenly started up, and
snatching a lamp from the hand of an attendant, held it close to
Dalgetty’s face, while he perused his features with the most heedful and
grave attention.
“By my honour,” said Dalgetty, half displeased, as, mysteriously shaking
his head, Allan gave up the scrutiny--“I trow that lad and I will ken
each other when we meet again.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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