The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 11Stevenson, Robert Louis
History
The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 11
Stevenson, Robert Louis
Adventure stories; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
"I see I have fallen under your displeasure, ma'am," said I. "Yet I will
still be so bold as to ask after Mistress Drummond."
She considered me with a burning eye, her lips pressed close together
into twenty creases, her hand shaking on her staff. "This cowes all!"
she cried. "Ye come to me to speir for her? Would God I knew!"
"She is not here?" I cried.
She threw up her chin and made a step and a cry at me, so that I fell
back incontinent.
"Out upon your leeing throat!" she cried. "What! ye come and speir at
me! She's in jyle, whaur ye took her to--that's all there is to it. And
of a' the beings ever I beheld in breeks, to think it should be you! Ye
timmer scoun'rel, if I had a male left to my name I would have your
jaicket dustit till ye raired."
I thought it not good to delay longer in that place, because I remarked
her passion to be rising. As I turned to the horse-post she even
followed me; and I make no shame to confess that I rode away with the
one stirrup on and scrambling for the other.
As I knew no other quarter where I could push my inquiries, there was
nothing left me but to return to the Advocate's. I was well received by
the four ladies, who were now in company together, and must give the
news of Prestongrange and what word went in the west country, at the
most inordinate length and with great weariness to myself; while all the
time that young lady, with whom I so much desired to be alone again,
observed me quizzically, and seemed to find pleasure in the sight of my
impatience. At last, after I had endured a meal with them, and was come
very near the point of appealing for an interview before her aunt, she
went and stood by the music-case, and picking out a tune, sang to it on
a high key--"He that will not when he may, When he will he shall have
nay." But this was the end of her rigours, and presently, after making
some excuse of which I have no mind, she carried me away in private to
her father's library. I should not fail to say that she was dressed to
the nines, and appeared extraordinary handsome.
"Now, Mr. David, sit ye down here, and let us have a two-handed crack,"
said she. "For I have much to tell you, and it appears besides that I
have been grossly unjust to your good taste."
"In what manner, Mistress Grant?" I asked. "I trust I have never seemed
to fail in due respect."
"I will be your surety, Mr. David," said she. "Your respect, whether to
yourself or your poor neighbours, has been always and most fortunately
beyond imitation. But that is by the question.--You got a note from me?"
she asked.
"I was so bold as to suppose so upon inference," said I, "and it was
kindly thought upon."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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