Bothwell Bridge, Battle of, Scotland, 1679 -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Scotland -- History -- 1660-1688 -- Fiction; War stories
"He couldna be said to haud up his head after his brother's wife and his
niece were turned out o' their ain house; and he had himsell sair
borrowing siller to stand the law,--but it was in the latter end o' King
James's days; and Basil Olifant, who claimed the estate, turned a papist
to please the managers, and then naething was to be refused him. Sae the
law gaed again the leddies at last, after they had fought a weary sort o'
years about it; and, as I said before, the major ne'er held up his head
again. And then cam the pitting awa o' the Stewart line; and, though he
had but little reason to like them, he couldna brook that, and it clean
broke the heart o' him; and creditors cam to Charnwood and cleaned out a'
that was there,--he was never rich, the gude auld man, for he dow'd na
see onybody want."
"He was indeed," said the stranger, with a faltering voice, "an admirable
man,--that is, I have heard that he was so. So the ladies were left
without fortune, as well as without a protector?"
"They will neither want the tane nor the tother while Lord Evandale
lives," said Jenny; "he has been a true friend in their griefs. E'en to
the house they live in is his lordship's; and never man, as my auld
gudemother used to say, since the days of the Patriarch Jacob, served sae
lang and sae sair for a wife as gude Lord Evandale has dune."
"And why," said the stranger, with a voice that quivered with emotion,
"why was he not sooner rewarded by the object of his attachment?"
"There was the lawsuit to be ended," said Jenny readily, "forby many
other family arrangements."
"Na, but," said Cuddie, "there was another reason forby; for the young
leddy--"
"Whisht, hand your tongue, and sup your sowens," said his wife; "I see
the gentleman's far frae weel, and downa eat our coarse supper. I wad
kill him a chicken in an instant."
"There is no occasion," said the stranger; "I shall want only a glass of
water, and to be left alone."
"You'll gie yoursell the trouble then to follow me," said Jenny, lighting
a small lantern, "and I'll show you the way."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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