Clergy -- Fiction; Love stories; Scotland -- Fiction
"She did," agreed Wearyworld, who was supping ravenously on
sociability; "ay, she even tried her tricks on me, so that them that
kens no better thinks she fooled me. But she's cracky. To gie her her
due, she's cracky, and as for her being a cuttie, you've said yoursel,
Mr. Dishart, that we're all desperately wicked. But we're sair tried.
Has it ever struck you that the trouts bites best on the Sabbath?
God's critturs tempting decent men."
"Come alang," cried the Tilliedrum man, impatiently.
"I'm coming, but I maun give Mr. Dishart permission to pass first. Hae
you heard, Mr. Dishart," Wearyworld whispered, "that the Egyptian
diddled baith the captain and the shirra? It's my official opinion
that she's no better than a roasted onion, the which, if you grip it
firm, jumps out o' sicht, leaving its coat in your fingers. Mr.
Dishart, you can pass."
The policeman turned down the school wynd, and Gavin, who had already
heard exaggerated accounts of the strange woman's escape from the
town-house, proceeded along the Tenements. He walked in the black
shadows of the houses, though across the way there was the morning
light.
In talking of the gypsy, the little minister had, as it were, put on
the black cap; but now, even though he shook his head angrily with
every thought of her, the scene in Windyghoul glimmered before his
eyes. Sometimes when he meant to frown he only sighed, and then
having sighed he shook himself. He was unpleasantly conscious of his
right hand, which had flung the divit. Ah, she was shameless, and it
would be a bright day for Thrums that saw the last of her. He hoped
the policemen would succeed in----. It was the gladsomeness of
innocence that he had seen dancing in the moonlight. A mere woman
could not be like that. How soft----. And she had derided him; he, the
Auld Licht minister of Thrums, had been flouted before his people by a
hussy. She was without reverence, she knew no difference between an
Auld Licht minister, whose duty it was to speak and hers to listen,
and herself. This woman deserved to be----. And the look she cast
behind her as she danced and sang! It was sweet, so wistful; the
presence of purity had silenced him. Purity! Who had made him fling
that divit? He would think no more of her. Let it suffice that he knew
what she was. He would put her from his thoughts. Was it a ring on her
finger?
Fifty yards in front of him Gavin saw the road end in a wall of
soldiers. They were between him and the manse, and he was still in
darkness. No sound reached him, save the echo of his own feet. But was
it an echo? He stopped, and turned round sharply. Now he heard
nothing, he saw nothing. Yet was not that a human figure standing
motionless in the shadow behind?
He walked on, and again heard the sound. Again he looked behind, but
this time without stopping. The figure was following him. He stopped.
So did it. He turned back, but it did not move. It was the Egyptian!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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