Fantasy fiction; Poetry; Science fiction; Short stories
I was very really embarrassed. Not that I would not have given
willingly, for I had ample resources at the moment and was mightily
concerned about the sad household. But I knew that the little Duchess
would take Oliphant's ears from his head if she guessed that he had
dared to borrow from me, and that, if I lent, her back would for ever
be turned against me. And yet, what would follow on my refusal? In a
day of two there would be a pitiful scene with mine host, and as like
as not some of their baggage detained as security for payment. I did
not love the task of conspiring behind the lady's back, but if it could
be contrived 'twas indubitably the kindest course. I glared sternly at
Oliphant, who met me with his pathetic, dog-like eyes.
"You know that your mistress would never consent to the request you
have made of me?"
"I ken," he said humbly. "But payin' is my job, and I simply havena
the siller. It's no the first time it has happened, and it's a sair
trial for them both to be flung out o' doors by a foreign hostler
because they canna meet his charges. But, sir, if ye can lend to me,
ye may be certain that her leddyship will never, hear a word o't. Puir
thing, she takes nae thocht o' where the siller comes frae, ony mair
than the lilies o' the field."
I became a conspirator. "You swear, Oliphant, by all you hold sacred,
to breathe nothing of this to your mistress, and if she should suspect,
to lie like a Privy Councillor?"
A flicker of a smile crossed his face. "I'll lee like a Scotch
packman, and the Father o' lees could do nae mair. You need have no
fear for your siller, sir. I've aye repaid when I borrowed, though you
may have to wait a bittock." And the strange fellow strolled off.
At dinner no Duchess appeared till long after the appointed hour, nor
was there any sign of Oliphant. When she came at last with Cristine,
her eyes looked as if she had been crying, and she greeted me with
remote courtesy. My first thought was that Oliphant had revealed the
matter of the loan, but presently I found that the lady's trouble was
far different. Her father, it seemed, was ill again with his old
complaint. What that was I did not ask, nor did the Duchess reveal it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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