Out in the Forty-Five: Duncan Keith's VowHolt, Emily Sarah
General
Out in the Forty-Five: Duncan Keith's Vow
Holt, Emily Sarah
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction; Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Jacobite Rebellion, 1745-1746 -- Juvenile fiction
"Hatty," I said, after doing battle with myself for a moment, "I think I
had better give you no answer. If I did, and if my words and tones
suited my feelings, I should scream the house down."
She burst out laughing behind her fan. I walked away at once, lest I
should be tempted to reply further. I am afraid I almost ran, for I
came bolt against a gentleman in the corner, and had to stop and make my
apologies.
"Don't run quite over me, Cary, if it suit you," said somebody who, I
thought, was in Cumberland.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. The assemblies on a lady's visiting day required no
invitations. The rooms were open to any person acquainted with members
of the family.
Note 2. Southerners are respectfully informed that the use of only for
but is a Northern peculiarity.
Note 3. Sensitive, delicate.
CHAPTER NINE.
DIFFICULTIES.
"And 't was na for a Popish yoke
That bravest men came forth
To part wi' life and dearest ties,
And a' that life was worth."
JACOBITE BALLAD.
"Ephraim Hebblethwaite!" I cried out.
"I believe so," he said, laughing.
"Where did you come from?"
"From a certain place in the North, called Brocklebank."
"But what brought you to London?" I cried.
"What brought me to London?" he repeated, in quite a different tone,--so
much softer. "Well, Cary, I wanted to see something."
"Have you been to see it?" I asked, more to give myself time to cool
down than because I cared to know.
"Yes, I have been to see it," he said, and smiled.
"And did you find it as agreeable as you expected?"
"Quite. I had seen it before, and I wanted to know if it were spoiled."
"Oh, I hope it is not spoiled!" said I.
"Not at all," said he, his voice growing softer and softer. "No, it is
not spoiled yet, Cary."
"Do you expect it will be?" I was getting cooler now.
"I don't know," he answered, very gravely for him, for Ephraim is not at
all given to moroseness and long faces. "God grant it never may!"
I could not think what he meant, and I did not like to ask him. Indeed,
I had not much opportunity, for he began talking about our journey, and
Brocklebank, and all the people there, and I was so interested that we
did not get back to what Ephraim came to see.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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