Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Scotland -- Fiction
"There is no need for--for Tristram Shandy to be--to be bound up with
the Shorter Catechism, is there? The two could help each other without
the binding, couldn't they? And then"--her voice had the break of
half-tears, half-laughter in it--"you see Tristram Shandy would be
free--free to marry." She had been so intent on her own words, her
eyes looking out far beyond that dark horizon that she had not
realised he had risen to stand beside her; but now his arm about
her waist, his face bent caressingly to hers, quite overset her
self-control, she turned with a sob and buried her face on his breast.
"Oh, Duke, Duke!" she cried. "I mustn't, I daren't harm you!"
He held her to him and kissed her again and again.
"You won't harm me," he said exultantly. "Of course I shan't be able
to noise our marriage abroad just now, so you will have plenty of time
to prepare for your future position."
All the glamour, all the glitter seemed gone from the world; she drew
herself away from him and smiled at him tenderly, feeling glad that he
had failed apparently to realise the magnitude of her offer.
"You must give me time to think, Duke," she said.
He looked a little offended.
"Oh, take it, by all means; only if you won't marry me we must give up
being friends, for I'm not such a cad as to let a girl like you lose
her character over me--but I expect I shall go to the devil, all the
same."
They were very silent when they set sail once more. They had intended
to tack along the coast to a village where Andrew had been told to
await them with the tilbury; but after one or two attempts to make way
against a momentarily increasing wind, Marmaduke, with a rapid glance
at that arc of black cloud which had by now overcast the zenith,
remarked briefly:--
"We are in for it, I fear, and had better run for Girvan. Wait till I
am ready, Marmie, then take her round sharp."
Even as he spoke the gust of a coming squall struck them, the boat
heeled over, and but for skill both at tiller and sheet, might have
overset.
"It's a mercy you can steer," he said, a minute or two later, as by a
deft giving way the boat over-rode a following seventh wave; "but if
you keep your head there's no harm done."
So they flew before the rapidly rising gale, which, as it rose,
shifted from north-west to nor'-nor'-by-west and threatened to drive
them down the coast.
"We shall have to tack to make Girvan," he said sharply, "and it's
best to do it before the full fury of the storm touches us. It looks
ugly out there."
Marmie nodded.
"I'll take my time from you," she replied, "but don't hurry; we shall
get into a slacker bit in a minute or two."
"Now!" came his voice.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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