Harry Muir : $b A story of Scottish life, vol. 3 (of 3)Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
Harry Muir : $b A story of Scottish life, vol. 3 (of 3)
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Scotland -- Fiction
I borrowed at various times, little sums from your brother,
the late Allenders--I cannot undertake to say what they came to
exactly, but not above this I enclose. I am leaving Allender Mains
next week, and would be glad to call, if there is no objection; and
would be glad to know whether I have your permission, as I believe
I had the permission of your brother, to pay my addresses to your
sister, Miss Rose. This is not a suitable time to ask, but I am
anxious to know, and intend to settle down in Stirling; and will be
profited, I trust, by the late solemn warning, which, I assure you,
has caused me the deepest regret.
With much sympathy, and compliments to all the family,
I remain, dear Madam,
Yours faithfully,
GILBERT ALLENDERS.”
Cuthbert unconsciously crushed the letter in his hand. Inconsiderable
as his rival was, he was a rival still.
Martha’s answer was very brief.
“I return you, with thanks, the money you have sent me. We who
remain have nothing to do with what passed between the dead and
you. Let this be past, like everything else which put your names
together. We are little disposed to receive callers. Without any
discourtesy, I think it is better that you should not come.
MARTHA MUIR ALLENDERS.”
It was the first time she had signed her name so; and Martha
placed the fifty-pound note within her letter, when she had shown
it to Cuthbert, who looked on with some astonishment. Collected and
self-possessed as she was, Martha could not, without strong emotion,
either write or speak poor Harry’s name, and her whole frame quivered
with nervous excitement as she closed her letter. Cuthbert was much
surprised; he thought this a piece of quite unnecessary generosity.
“Is it foolish?” said Martha, answering his look. “Well, be it so;
but no one shall say that _he_ gave this to a careless companion, and
that it was exacted back again. I tell you, the meanest gift he ever
gave, were it for his own destruction, is sacred to me--never to be
reclaimed. It was his own. I will not hear a word of blame.”
And this irritation and defiance was the weakness of Martha’s grief.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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