It was a Lover and His LassOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
It was a Lover and His Lass
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Scotland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"They will catch their death of cold," she said, "those thoughtless
things! I have little doubt my Philip is away into the moonlight with
some of them, for I cannot see him."
"Bless me! it will be our Lilias," said Miss Margaret.
"Oh, I'll run and see that she has her cloak," cried Miss Jean,
starting to her feet, but both the elder sister and the mother
protested against this extreme care.
"They must just take their chance," said Miss Margaret. "We cannot be
always after her."
"And my Philip will take care of that," said Mrs. Stormont.
But after this alarm, the eyes of all were busy, watching for the
truants. A vague uneasiness was in Mrs. Stormont's mind. If it was
Lilias, as the other ladies said, then all was well: but the mother
of a man recognizes a perversity in that article which is never to
be calculated upon. It was possible they might be mistaken. It was
possible--who can tell what a young lad is not capable of? It was
very consoling, very re-assuring, that Lilias was invisible as well
as Philip, but a hundred terrors shook the anxious mother's bosom
whenever, through the circles of the dancers, she saw a dress more
white than usual, a blonde head, like that of Lilias, reveal itself;
and there were of course many fair-haired girls. At last her suspense
got too much for her. She left the sisters, under pretence of speaking
to another old friend, but once free stole towards the door, and out
upon the wide old staircase, which was full of sitters out. Mrs.
Stormont escaped with difficulty from the too-zealous cavaliers, who
were anxious to take her down for the cup of tea she professed to be in
search of. She could hardly get free from their importunities. The door
was wide open; the chill that comes before dawn was stealing in, but
even when she looked out, shivering, from the threshold some officious
person insisted on talking to her.
"Yes, yes, it is a fine night, and the moon is just beautiful--but,
for my part, I think it's very cold, and I wish those incautious young
creatures would not wander about like that, with nothing on them. If I
could see Philip, I would send him out to beg them to come in."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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