Outlaws -- Fiction; Rob Roy, 1671-1734 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 1689-1745 -- Fiction
In the egotism of my feelings, I accused her of indifference--of
insensibility. I upbraided her father with pride--with cruelty--with
fanaticism,--forgetting that both were sacrificing their interest, and
Diana her inclination, to the discharge of what they regarded as their
duty.
Sir Frederick Vernon was a rigid Catholic, who thought the path of
salvation too narrow to be trodden by an heretic; and Diana, to whom her
father's safety had been for many years the principal and moving spring
of thoughts, hopes, and actions, felt that she had discharged her duty in
resigning to his will, not alone her property in the world, but the
dearest affections of her heart. But it was not surprising that I could
not, at such a moment, fully appreciate these honourable motives; yet my
spleen sought no ignoble means of discharging itself.
"I am contemned, then," I said, when left to run over the tenor of Sir
Frederick's communications--"I am contemned, and thought unworthy even to
exchange words with her. Be it so; they shall not at least prevent me
from watching over her safety. Here will I remain as an outpost, and,
while under my roof at least, no danger shall threaten her, if it be such
as the arm of one determined man can avert."
I summoned Syddall to the library. He came, but came attended by the
eternal Andrew, who, dreaming of great things in consequence of my taking
possession of the Hall and the annexed estates, was resolved to lose
nothing for want of keeping himself in view; and, as often happens to men
who entertain selfish objects, overshot his mark, and rendered his
attentions tedious and inconvenient.
His unrequired presence prevented me from speaking freely to Syddall, and
I dared not send him away for fear of increasing such suspicions as he
might entertain from his former abrupt dismissal from the library. "I
shall sleep here, sir," I said, giving them directions to wheel nearer to
the fire an old-fashioned day-bed, or settee. "I have much to do, and
shall go late to bed."
Syddall, who seemed to understand my look, offered to procure me the
accommodation of a mattress and some bedding. I accepted his offer,
dismissed my attendant, lighted a pair of candles, and desired that I
might not be disturbed till seven in the ensuing morning.
The domestics retired, leaving me to my painful and ill-arranged
reflections, until nature, worn out, should require some repose.
I endeavoured forcibly to abstract my mind from the singular
circumstances in which I found myself placed. Feelings which I had
gallantly combated while the exciting object was remote, were now
exasperated by my immediate neighbourhood to her whom I was so soon to
part with for ever. Her name was written in every book which I attempted
to peruse; and her image forced itself on me in whatever train of thought
I strove to engage myself. It was like the officious slave of Prior's
Solomon,--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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