The Scottish Cavalier: An Historical Romance, Volume 1 (of 3)Grant, James
History
The Scottish Cavalier: An Historical Romance, Volume 1 (of 3)
Grant, James
Scotland -- History -- 1649-1660 -- Fiction
Lady Bruntisfield, who, seated in her arm-chair, cane in hand, had
listened to this wonderful narrative with great gravity, was at no
loss to attribute the enterprise to the proper personages, and though
the indignation she felt was very great, her alarm and uneasiness
were greater. She now saw to what lengths the passion and daring of
this rash and profligate suitor might carry him. In consequence of
his rank and power, (which the complaints of a hundred old women
could never shake,) it was deemed expedient to commit the affair to
silence, but to be on their guard, and in future never to go abroad
without an armed escort--composed of old Syme the baillie and his
sons, or some such stout fellows, with sword and pistol. Meantime,
the burning of the cottage (a loss which Elsie deeply mourned, for
there she had dwelt a wife and widow for more than forty years,) was
attributed by some to the outcast Cameronians who lurked among the
whins of Braid, and by others to certain malicious spunkies who then
inhabited the morasses to the westward.
At a late hour next morning Walter awoke. It was now the month of
April. The sun shone warmly from a bright blue sky streaked with
fleecy clouds that gleamed like masses of gilded snow, as his
radiance streamed aslant between them. The grass and the budding
trees were heavy with dew, and the merry birds were chirruping and
hopping from branch to branch, as if their little hearts rejoiced at
the approach of summer. The ravenous gled and the ominous rook were
soaring on their dark wings into the azure sky, and their light
shadows floated over the still bosom of the loch, scaring the lonely
heron that waded in its waters, till piercing up, and farther up they
grew mere specks in the welkin, as they flew towards the rising sun.
The old mansion, with its tall smoky chimneys and projecting turrets,
gleamed cheerily in the red sunlight that streamed down the long
shady avenue, where myriads of gad-flies wheeled and revolved in the
golden beams as they pierced and shot through the thickening
foliage--thickening and expanding under the warm showers and warmer
sun of April, the balmy month of fresh leaves and opening flowers, of
fleecy clouds and bright blue skies.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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