Historical fiction; Jacobite Rebellion, 1745-1746 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
“I believe not,” she replied. “This poor creature had a brother, and
Heaven, as if to compensate to the family Davie’s deficiencies, had
given him what the hamlet thought uncommon talents. An uncle contrived
to educate him for the Scottish kirk, but he could not get preferment
because he came from our _ground_. He returned from college hopeless
and brokenhearted, and fell into a decline. My father supported him
till his death, which happened before he was nineteen. He played
beautifully on the flute, and was supposed to have a great turn for
poetry. He was affectionate and compassionate to his brother, who
followed him like his shadow, and we think that from him Davie gathered
many fragments of songs and music unlike those of this country. But if
we ask him where he got such a fragment as he is now singing, he either
answers with wild and long fits of laughter, or else breaks into tears
of lamentation; but was never heard to give any explanation, or to
mention his brother’s name since his death.”
“Surely,” said Edward, who was readily interested by a tale bordering
on the romantic, “surely more might be learned by more particular
inquiry.”
“Perhaps so,” answered Rose; “but my father will not permit any one to
practise on his feelings on this subject.”
By this time the Baron, with the help of Mr. Saunderson, had indued a
pair of jack-boots of large dimensions, and now invited our hero to
follow him as he stalked clattering down the ample stair-case, tapping
each huge balustrade as he passed with the butt of his massive
horse-whip, and humming, with the air of a _chasseur_ of Louis
Quatorze,—
“Pour la chasse ordonnée il faut preparer tout.
Ho la ho! Vite! vite debout!”
CHAPTER XIII.
A MORE RATIONAL DAY THAN THE LAST
The Baron of Bradwardine, mounted on an active and well-managed horse,
and seated on a demi-pique saddle, with deep housings to agree with his
livery, was no bad representative of the old school. His light-coloured
embroidered coat, and superbly barred waistcoat, his brigadier wig,
surmounted by a small gold-laced cocked-hat, completed his personal
costume; but he was attended by two well-mounted servants on horseback,
armed with holster-pistols.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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