Christian fiction; Neighborhoods -- Scotland -- Fiction
as David must have felt when, in his dance of undignified delight that
he had got the ark home again, he saw the contemptuous eyes of Michal
fixed on him from the window. But I could not leave it so. I said to
him--coldly I daresay:
"Excuse me, Mr. Percivale; I forgot for the moment that I was not
amongst my own family."
Percivale took his hat off.
"Forgive my seeming rudeness, Mr. Walton. I was half-envying and
half-wondering. You would not be surprised at my unconscious behaviour
if you had seen as much of the wrong side of the stuff as I have seen
in London."
I had some idea of what he meant; but this was no time to enter upon a
discussion. I could only say--
"My heart was full, Mr. Percivale, and I let it overflow."
"Let me at least share in its overflow," he rejoined, and nothing more
passed on the subject.
For the next ten minutes we stood in absolute silence. We had set
Connie down on the grass again, but propped up so that she could see
through the doorway. And she lay in still ecstasy. But there was more
to be seen ere we descended. There was the rest of the little islet
with its crop of down-grass, on which the horses of all the knights of
King Arthur's round table might have fed for a week--yes, for a
fortnight, without, by any means, encountering the short commons of
war. There were the ruins of the castle so built of plates of the
laminated stone of the rocks on which they stood, and so woven in or
more properly incorporated with the outstanding rocks themselves, that
in some parts I found it impossible to tell which was building and
which was rock--the walls themselves seeming like a growth out of the
island itself, so perfectly were they in harmony with, and in kind the
same as, the natural ground upon which and of which they had been
constructed. And this would seem to me to be the perfection of
architecture. The work of man's hands should be so in harmony with the
place where it stands that it must look as if it had grown out of the
soil. But the walls were in some parts so thin that one wondered how
they could have stood so long. They must have been built before the
time of any formidable artillery--enough only for defence from arrows.
But then the island was nowhere commanded, and its own steep cliffs
would be more easily defended than any erections upon it. Clearly the
intention was that no enemy should thereon find rest for the sole of
his foot; for if he was able to land, farewell to the notion of any
further defence. Then there was outside the walls the little
chapel--such a tiny chapel! of which little more than the foundation
remained, with the ruins of the altar still standing, and outside the
chancel, nestling by its wall, a coffin hollowed in the rock; then the
churchyard a little way off full of graves, which, I presume, would
have vanished long ago were it not that the very graves were founded on
the rock. There still stood old worn-out headstones of thin slate, but
no memorials were left.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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