Kirsteen: The Story of a Scotch Family Seventy Years AgoOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
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Kirsteen: The Story of a Scotch Family Seventy Years Ago
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Domestic fiction; Scotland -- Fiction
“And that I will,” she said, “for we made friends though I’ve only seen
him one night. He is just a man after my own heart,” said Kirsteen with
warmth, with a sigh at the thought of his sad story, and a rising colour
which was due to the fact that her imagination had linked the idea of
young Ronald with that of this old and delightful gentleman who had been
what her young lover was--but born to a less happy fate.
“Well,” said Drumcarro, “now ye’ve spoken, Kirsteen, ye’ve made no
secret of your feelings; and, so far as I can judge, he has just as fine
an opinion of you. And if you give your attention to making him
comfortable and let him see the mettle you’re of, there is no saying
what may happen. And it’s not me that will put obstacles in the way.”
“Drumcarro,” cried Miss Eelen, “ye get credit for sense among your own
kind, but if ever there was a donnered auld fool in affairs of a certain
description! Cannot ye hold your tongue, man, and let things take their
course? They will do that without either you or me.”
Mr. Douglas had disposed of a great deal of the mutton ham. He had made
a very good breakfast, and he felt himself free to retire from the table
with a final volley. “If you think,” he said, “that I am going to give
up my mind to manage, as you womenfolks call it, and bring a thing
about, and draw on the man and fleech the lassie, ye are just sair
mistaken, Eelen. When I say a word in my house I’m accustomed to see it
done, and no nonsense about it. If a man comes seeking that I approve
of, it’s my pleasure that he shall find what he’s askin’ for. I’ll have
no picking and choosing. Men are no so plenty, and lassies are just a
drug in the market. You have never got a man yourself.”
“The Lord be praised!” said Miss Eelen. “I would have broken his heart,
or he would have broken mine. But I’ve kent them that would have married
me, Neil Douglas, if it was for me or for my tocher I leave you to
judge. I’m thankful to think I was never deceived for a moment,” said
the old lady with a nod which sent the black bow upon her head into a
little convulsion of tremulous movement. “I name nae names,” she said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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