Stand Fast, Craig-Royston! (Volume I)Black, William
General
Stand Fast, Craig-Royston! (Volume I)
Black, William
Families -- Fiction; Grandfathers -- Fiction; Older people -- Fiction; Scotland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"I’m afraid all this luxury would be out of place in ’Caledonia, stern
and wild,’" the old man said. "No, no; these things are for the gay
south. When Maisrie and I seek out the misty solitudes of the north,
and the graves of Renwick and Cargill, it will be on foot; and if we
bring away with us some little trifle to remind us of Logan’s streams
and Ettrick’s shaws, it will be a simple thing—a bluebell or a bit of
yellow broom. I have been thinking that perhaps this autumn we might
begin—"
"Oh, no, grandfather," Maisrie interposed at once. "That is impossible.
You know you have the American volume to do first. What a pity it would
be," she went on, with an insidious and persuasive gentleness which the
young man had seen her adopt before in humouring her grandfather, "if
some one else were to bring out a book on the same subject before you.
You know no one understands it so thoroughly as you do, grandfather: and
with your extraordinary memory you can say exactly what you require; so
that you could send over and get the materials you want without any
trouble."
"Very well, very well," the old man said, curtly. "But we need not talk
business at such a time as this."
Now there was attached to the _White Rose_ a rowing boat; and a very
elegant rowing-boat it was, too, of varnished pine; and by and bye
Vincent proposed to his two guests that they should get into the
stern-sheets, and he would take a short pair of sculls, and pull them up
to the bridge, to show them the other house-boats, and the people, and
the fun of the fair generally.
"But wouldn’t you take the longer oars," said Maisrie, looking down into
the shapely gig, "and let me have one?"
"Oh, would you like that?" he said, with pleasure in his eyes. "Yes, by
all means, if you care to row. It is a light boat though it’s long; you
won’t find it hard pulling. By the way, I hunted about everywhere to
get a gondola for you, and I couldn’t."
"But who told you I had ever tried an oar in a gondola?" she asked, with
a smile.
"Why, you yourself: was I likely to forget it?" he said reproachfully.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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