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
She stole in, a little breathless, and desirous of getting to her room
unperceived. The result of so much agitation was that she had lingered
longer than usual. There had been Lewis in the first place, who had
a great deal to say, and then the lovers, from whom she had broken
away in anger, had taken a long time to reconcile her. It was late,
accordingly, when she got in, and by the time she had changed her
dress, and was ready to appear in the drawing-room, it was very late,
and her sisters were both waiting for her. They did not say anything at
that moment, but contemplated her with very serious looks during their
evening meal. Even old Simon perceived that something was coming. He
showed his sympathy to "little missie" by offering her everything twice
over, and anxiously persuading her in a whisper to eat.
"It will do you good, missie," he said in her ear; "you're taking
nothing." He even poured out some wine for her, though she never took
wine, and adjured her to drink it. "It will just be a support," he said.
These signs were not wanted to show Lilias that a storm was brewing.
She was a little frightened, yet plucked up a courage when she heard
Margaret clearing her throat. After all, she had done nothing that was
wrong. But the form which the assault took was one which Lilias had not
foreseen. They returned to the drawing-room before a word was said. By
this time it was quite evening, the sunshine gone, and a twilight much
more advanced than that out of doors lay in all the corners. Except the
space in front of the windows, the room, indeed, was almost dark, and
the bare walls seemed to contract and come close to hear what was going
to be said.
"Lilias," said Miss Margaret, "Jean and I have been consulting about
many things. You see, this is rather a dear place, there are so many
tourists; and especially in the autumn, which is coming on, and the
meat is just a ransom. Even in a little place like Murkley there
are strangers, and Kilmorley just eats up all the provisions in the
country."
Lilias' heart, which had been beating high in anticipation, sank down
at this in her bosom with a delicious sense of relief and rest. There
was nothing to be said then on any troublous subject, for who could be
excited about the tourists and the price of meat? She was glad she had
not taken the wine, for there could be no need for it--evidently no
need.
"I don't know anything about that, Margaret," she said. "I wish there
was no meat at all."
"Yes, you are just a perverse thing about your eating," said Miss
Margaret--"we all know that."
"And it is not good for you, my dear; it keeps you delicate," said Miss
Jean.
"Oh!" cried Lilias, springing from her chair, "was that all you were
going to speak to me about? And even Simon saw it, and brought me
wine to drink to do me good; and it is only about the price of meat
and provisions being dear! What do you frighten people for, if it is
nothing but that?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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