Arranged marriage -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Love stories; Psychological fiction; Scotland -- Fiction; Women murderers -- Fiction
“Ye may chastise your ain wife if ye like,” answered Dame Lightbody;
“but ye shall never lay finger on my daughter, and that ye may found
upon.”
“For shame, Mr. Girder!” said the clergyman; “this is what I little
expected to have seen of you, that you suld give rein to your sinful
passions against your nearest and your dearest, and this night too,
when ye are called to the most solemn duty of a Christian parent; and
a’ for what? For a redundancy of creature-comforts, as worthless as
they are unneedful.”
“Worthless!” exclaimed the cooper. “A better guse never walkit on
stubble; two finer, dentier wild ducks never wat a feather.”
“Be it sae, neighbour,” rejoined the minister; “but see what
superfluities are yet revolving before your fire. I have seen the day
when ten of the bannocks which stand upon that board would have been an
acceptable dainty to as many men, that were starving on hills and bogs,
and in caves of the earth, for the Gospel’s sake.”
“And that’s what vexes me maist of a’,” said the cooper, anxious to get
some one to sympathise with his not altogether causeless anger; “an the
quean had gien it to ony suffering sant, or to ony body ava but that
reaving, lying, oppressing Tory villain, that rade in the wicked troop
of militia when it was commanded out against the sants at Bothwell Brig
by the auld tyrant Allan Ravenswood, that is gane to his place, I wad
the less hae minded it. But to gie the principal parts o’ the feast to
the like o’ him——!”
“Aweel, Gilbert,” said the minister, “and dinna ye see a high judgment
in this? The seed of the righteous are not seen begging their bread:
think of the son of a powerful oppressor being brought to the pass of
supporting his household from your fulness.”
“And, besides,” said the wife, “it wasna for Lord Ravenswood neither,
an he wad hear but a body speak: it was to help to entertain the Lord
Keeper, as they ca’ him, that’s up yonder at Wolf’s Crag.”
“Sir William Ashton at Wolf’s Crag!” ejaculated the astonished man of
hoops and staves.
“And hand and glove wi’ Lord Ravenswood,” added Dame Lightbody.
“Doited idiot! that auld, clavering sneckdrawer wad gar ye trow the
moon is made of green cheese. The Lord Keeper and Ravenswood! they are
cat and dog, hare and hound.”
“I tell ye they are man and wife, and gree better than some others that
are sae,” retorted the mother-in-law; “forbye, Peter Puncheon, that’s
cooper the Queen’s stores, is dead, and the place is to fill, and——”
“Od guide us, wull ye haud your skirling tongues!” said Girder,—for we
are to remark, that this explanation was given like a catch for two
voices, the younger dame, much encouraged by the turn of the debate,
taking up and repeating in a higher tone the words as fast as they were
uttered by her mother.
“The gudewife says naething but what’s true, maister,” said Girder’s
foreman, who had come in during the fray. “I saw the Lord Keeper’s
servants drinking and driving ower at Luckie Sma’trash’s, ower-bye
yonder.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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