The Wizard's Son, Vol. 2 (of 3)Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
The Wizard's Son, Vol. 2 (of 3)
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Great Britain -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Supernatural -- Fiction
"Do you think we may say she is a nymph, Lord Erradeen? Oh yes--what do
you call those classical ladies that take care of the water--Naiads?
Oona is something of that sort. But better than the classics, for she
has water above and water below for a great part of the year. You don't
know how many superstitions we have remaining in this wild part of the
country. We have ghosts, and wandering Jews, and mysterious lights:
Lord Erradeen will tell you----"
Katie paused with the malice bright in her eyes. She did not mean to
affront the recovered attendant who might turn out a suitor, and upon
whom it was possible she might be induced to smile; so she paused with a
little laugh, and allowed Braithwaite to break in.
"Do you call this a wild part of the country, Miss Williamson? Then what
must the cultivated portions look like? I see nothing but beautiful
villas and palaces, and all the luxuries of art."
"The comforts of the Saut Market," said Katie with a shrug of her
shoulders. "It is more easy to carry them about with you than in Bailie
Nicol Jarvie's time. But there is luncheon! Papa is always formal about
our going in, though I tell him that is out of date nowadays. So you
must wait, if you please, Lord Erradeen, and take me." There was then a
pause, until, as they brought up the rear of the procession down-stairs,
Katie said, with the slightest pressure on his arm to call his
attention, "That is a Member of Parliament in search of information and
statistics. If you hear me talk more nonsense than usual you will know
why."
"Do you expect Miss Forrester this afternoon?" asked Walter quite
irrelevant.
Katie's heart gave a little jump. She did not like to be beat. It was
the healthful instinct of emulation, not any tremor of the affections.
She gave him a keen glance half of anger, half of enjoyment, for she
loved a fray.
"Better than that," she cried gaily, "we are going down the loch to see
her. Don't you remember Mrs. Forrester's scones, Lord Erradeen! You are
ungrateful, for I know you have eaten them. But you shall come, too."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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