The Lindsays : $b A romance of Scottish life, Volume 3 (of 3) — John Shaqi
The Lindsays : $b A romance of Scottish life, Volume 3 (of 3)Leys, John K. (John Kirkwood)
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The Lindsays : $b A romance of Scottish life, Volume 3 (of 3)
Leys, John K. (John Kirkwood)
Scotland -- Fiction
It seemed almost as if he were bent on destroying the faith of the
only man who still believed in him.
‘Do you mean wilfully, after time for reflection, taking a day or two
over it?’
Alec nodded.
‘I should certify that you were insane.’
‘God bless you, Cameron!’
‘Man, you’re half cracked already, to talk in that way. Your uncle was
a donnart auld eediot. That’s undeniable. And if ye confessed to me
that being suddenly aware of the injustice he meant to do you (as I
look on it), you had thrown his will on the fire, I might have thought
that possible enough. But if you were to tell me that you sat down in
cold blood, and thought out this plan for yourself, and determined to
carry it out, and did carry it out, I would _not_ believe you. I should
say ye were mad first.’
‘Cameron, my father----’ began Alec after a pause.
‘No?’
The word was accompanied by a raising of the eyebrows, and followed
by slow shakes of the head, which indicated that in his opinion some
people were hopelessly stupid.
‘He’ll be very sorry, and ashamed of his want of trust in you, Alec;
don’t forget that,’ said Cameron.
‘My innocence may never be known. My character is gone already,’ said
the prisoner, glad to tell what was in his heart to a sympathetic ear.
‘That’s not certain,’ said Cameron quickly, as he grasped his friend
by the shoulder, and scanned his face narrowly. ‘And if it were, why,
better men than you have had to thole[1] the same thing.’
‘That’s true. I shouldn’t make so much of it. But, you see, I have so
little here to occupy my thoughts.’
‘I’ll come and see you again, if they’ll let me. But I don’t think they
will. It was a fashious[2] job to get in. But I’ll be in court. You may
depend on that.’
‘No, no, Duncan. You must go back to your work.’
‘I haven’t left the sick folk as sheep without a shepherd, which they
would be if they were left entirely to old Farquharson. So I chose a
sub-deputy-assistant before I came away. A fourth-year’s student just
scraped through. An Englishman, and I think the most ignorant man I
ever came across, but popular with the women. Yes, yes, man, in a
minute,’ he said impatiently to the turnkey, who opened the door to say
that the allotted time had expired. ‘That minds me I would practise my
art on you, Alec, my lad, if time permitted. _Fiat experimentum_, ye
ken.’
‘There’s nothing the matter with me,’ said Alec.
‘I don’t like that cough. And you’re very thin. I must see the pill-man
of this institution mysel’. I suppose they keep an animal of that kind
on the premises?’
‘I don’t know, I’m sure. I suppose so. Good-bye, old fellow. You’ve
done me a world of good.’
‘After all this rumpus and palaverin’s by,’ said Duncan, ‘I’ll carry ye
off _vi et armis_ to the island of Scalpa, and fatten you up there for
a month; or, better still, send you for a voyage to Australia--Coming!
I tell ye, ye----’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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