John Splendid: The Tale of a Poor Gentleman, and the Little Wars of LornMunro, Neil
History
John Splendid: The Tale of a Poor Gentleman, and the Little Wars of Lorn
Munro, Neil
Great Britain -- History -- Charles I, 1625-1649 -- Fiction
They pressed me both to stay, but I seemed, in my mind, to have a new
demand upon me for an immediate and private meeting with the girl; she
must be seen alone, and not in presence of the old couple, who would
give my natural shyness in her company far more gawkiness than it might
have if I met her alone.
I went out and went down the stair, and along the front of the land, my
being in a tumult, yet with my observation keen to everything, no matter
how trivial, that happened around me. The sea-gulls, that make the town
the playground of their stormy holidays, swept and curved among the
pigeons in the gutter and quarrelled over the spoils; tossed in the air
wind-blown, then dropped with feet outstretched upon the black joists
and window-sills. Fowls of the midden, new brought from other parts to
make up the place of those that had gone to the kail-pots of Antrim
and Athole, stalked about with heads high, foreign to this causied and
gravelled country, clucking eagerly for meat I made my way amid the bird
of the sea and the bird of the wood and common bird of the yard with
a divided mind, seeing them with the eye for future recollection, but
seeing them not Peats were at every close-mouth, at every door almost
that was half-habitable, and fuel cut from the wood, and all about the
thoroughfare was embarrassed.
I had a different decision at every step, now to seek the girl, now to
go home, now finding the most heartening hints in the agitation of the
parents, anon troubled exceedingly with the reflection that there was
something of an unfavourable nature in the demeanour of her mother,
however much the father’s badinage might soothe my vanity.
I had made up my mind for the twentieth time to go the length of
Carlunnan and face her plump and plain, when behold she came suddenly
round the corner at the Maltland where the surviving Lowland troops were
gathered! M’Iver was with her, and my resolution shrivelled and shook
within me like an old nut kernel. I would have turned but for the
stupidity and ill-breeding such a movement would evidence, yet as I held
on my way at a slower pace and the pair approached, I felt every limb an
encumbrance, I felt the country lout throbbing in every vein.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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