Scotland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
They started apart as a servant entered, and Lady Eliza went out of the
room and out of the house, disappearing among the trees. Though her
heart was smiting her for her harshness, a power like the force of
instinct in an animal fought against the idea of connecting all she
loved with Whanland. She had called Gilbert an interloper, and an
interloper he was, come to poison the last days of her life. She
hurried on among the trees, impervious to the balm of the evening air
which played on her brow; tenderness and fierceness dragged her in two
directions, and the consciousness of having raised a barrier between
herself and Cecilia was grievous. She seemed to be warring against
everything. Of what use was it to her to have been given such powers of
love and sympathy? They had recoiled upon her all her life, as curses
are said to recoil, and merely increased the power to suffer.
She had come to the outskirts of the trees, and, from the place in
which she stood, she could see over the wall into the road. The sound
of a horse’s trotting feet was approaching from the direction of Kaims,
and she remembered that it was Friday, the day on which the weekly
market was held, and on which those of the county men who were
agriculturally inclined made a point of meeting in the town for
business purposes. The rider was probably Fullarton. He often stopped
at Morphie on his way home, and it was likely he would do so now. She
went quickly down to a gate in the wall to intercept him.
Yes, it was Robert trotting evenly homewards, a fine figure of a man on
his sixteen-hand black. For one moment she started as he came into
sight round the bend, for she took him for Speid. The faces of the two
men were not alike, but, for the first time, and for an instant only,
the two figures seemed to her almost identical. As he neared her the
likeness faded; Fullarton was the taller of the two, and he had lost
the distinctive lines of youth. She went out and stood on the road; he
pulled up as he saw her, and dismounted, and they walked on side by
side towards the large gate of Morphie.
‘Crauford has come back,’ he began, ‘and I have just seen him in Kaims.
He is staying with Barclay; they seemed rather friendly when he was
with me, but I am surprised. Why he should have come back I can’t
think, for Cecilia gave him no doubt of her want of appreciation of
him. In any case, it is too soon. You don’t like Barclay, I know, my
lady.’
‘I can’t bear him,’ said Lady Eliza.
‘I have tolerated him for years, so I suppose I shall go on doing so.
Sometimes it is as much trouble to lay down one’s load as to go on with
it.’
‘I wish I could think as you do,’ said she.
‘Not that Barclay is exactly a load,’ he continued, pursuing his own
train of thought, ‘but he is a common, pushing fellow, and I think it a
pity that Crauford should stay with him.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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