Great Britain -- History -- 17th century -- Fiction; Historical fiction
So we sat down by the low window, holding each other’s hands, thinking
scarce anything save the joy of the other’s presence. The primroses
were starring the grass without, and the blossom coming thick and fast
on the cherry trees. So glad a world it was that it seemed as if all
were vanity save a dwelling like the Lotophagi in a paradise of
idleness.
But I quickly roused myself. It was no time for making love when the
enemy were even now at the gates.
"Marjory, lass," I said, "tell me all that has been done since I went
away."
And she told me, and a pitiful tale it was—that which I had heard from
Nicol, but more tragic and sad. I heard of her brother’s ruin, how the
brave, generous gentleman, with a head no better than a weathercock, had
gone down the stages to besotted infamy. I heard of Gilbert’s masterful
knavery, of his wooing at Dawyck, and how he had despoiled the house of
Barns. It seemed that he had spent days at Dawyck in the company of
Michael Veitch, putting my poor Marjory to such a persecution that I
could scarce bide still at the hearing of it. He would importune her
night and day, now by gallantry and now by threats. Then he would seek
to win her favour by acts of daring, such as he well knew how to do.
But mostly he trusted to the influence of her brother, who was his aider
and abetter in all things. I marvelled how a gentleman of family could
ever sink so low as to be the servant of such cowardice. But so it was,
and my heart was sore for all the toils which the poor girl had endured
in that great, desolate house, with no certain hope for the future. She
durst not write a letter, for she was spied on closely by her
tormentors, and if she had bade me return, they well knew I would come
with the greatest speed, and so in knowing the time of my arrival, would
lay hands on me without trouble. The letter which reached me was sealed
under her brother’s eyes and the postscript was added with the greatest
pains and sent by Tam Todd, who sat at Barns in wrath and impotence.
Truly things had gone wrong with a hearty good-will since I had ridden
away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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