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
"Hoot ay," said Janet, "but ye're young, and ye're neither sugar nor
salt, you'll no melt. At your age a bit of a shower does little harm;
and ye're just wrang biding in the house all day with nothing to do."
"That is true enough," Lewis said, but as he looked at the pouring rain
and the wet roads he shook his head. "I don't see that one can gain
much by getting wet, Mrs. Janet."
"Dear me! a young gentleman at your age! Weel, it's a grand thing to
take care of yourself. It's just what ye canna get young folk to do.
There's young Mr. Philip out on the water from the skreigh of day; he
just never minds. I'm no saying it's good for him. But they say it's
grand weather for the fushin', and that makes up for everything with
them, the gomerals. If they had your sense, Mr. Murray."
Lewis did not think she had a very high opinion of his sense, and
he was somewhat piqued by her suspicious semi-approval, and by her
description of Stormont, in whom the young man had come to see an
antagonistic type of mankind. The more fool he, if he had been out all
the morning between the water below and the water above, all for the
sake of a few fish. But the description piqued Lewis. He stood at his
window, and looked out for the twentieth time, and it did not look
tempting. Why, indeed, should he go out, and get himself wet and dirty
to please the prejudices of Janet. He had always heard that the English
went out in all weathers; that they had even a preference for mud and
damp, characteristic features of their own climate. But why should
he emulate this strange fancy? He sat down to his drawing again, but
he did not get any satisfaction out of it. Not to be approved of was
terrible to him. He could not bear that even Janet should have a small
opinion of his hardiness and manly bearing. This acted so strongly upon
Lewis that after a while he found himself pulling on his strongest
boots and getting into his thickest great-coat. The boots were not
very strong; he had never had any chance of those exposures to water
and weather in which impervious coverings are necessary; but, having
protected himself as well as he could, he sallied forth at last with
his umbrella, and went down to the river-side. There was little or no
wind, and the rain fell in a perpendicular flood, soaking everything.
Lewis under his umbrella went patiently on, enduring it manfully, but
unable to see any pleasure in his progress through the flood. He met
Katie Seton and her brother near the church. She was covered up in an
ulster, with a hood over her little hat. Her cheeks were like roses
"just washed in a shower."
"Oh, we never stay in for anything," she said. "It is always better out
than in."
Lewis in his courtesy would have made over his umbrella, but the girl
would none of it.
"Oh, I can't bear to carry an umbrella," she said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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