White Heather: A Novel (Volume 1 of 3)Black, William
General
White Heather: A Novel (Volume 1 of 3)
Black, William
Scotland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
As for him, he met this perfect friendship of hers with a studied
respect. Always, if it was on the one side ’Ronald,’ on the other it
was ’Miss Douglas.’ Why, her very costume was a bar to more familiar
relations. At this moment, as she sate on the stone parapet of the
bridge, looking down at the document before her, and as he stood at a
little distance, timidly awaiting what she had to say, it occurred to
him again, as it had occurred before, that no matter what dress it was,
each one seemed to become her better than any other. What was there
particular in a tight-fitting gray ulster and a deerstalker’s cap? and
yet there was grace there, and style, and a nameless charm. If one of
the lasses at the inn, now, were sent on an errand on one of these wild
and blustering mornings, and got her hair blown about, she came back
looking untidy; but if Miss Douglas had her hair blown about, so that
bits and curls of it got free from the cap or the velvet hat, and hung
lightly about her forehead or her ears or her neck, it was a greater
witchery than ever. Then everything seemed to fit her so well and so
easily, and to be so simple; and always leaving her—however it was so
managed—perfect freedom of movement, so that she could swing a child on
to her shoulder, or run after a truant, or leap from bank to bank of a
burn without disturbing in the least that constant symmetry and
neatness. To Ronald it was all a wonder; and there was a still further
wonder always seeming to accompany her and surround her. Why was it
that the bleakest winter day, on these desolate Sutherland moors,
suddenly grew filled with light when he chanced to see a well-known
figure away along the road—the world changing into a joyful thing, as if
the summer were already come, and the larks singing in the blue? And
when she spoke to him, there was a kind of music in the air; and when
she laughed—why, Clebrig and Ben Loyal and the whispering Mudal Water
seemed all to be listening and all to be glad that she was happy and
pleased. She was the only one, other than himself, that the faithful
Harry would follow; and he would go with her wherever she went, so long
as she gave him an occasional word of encouragement.
’Will I read you the programme, Ronald?’ said she, with just a trace of
mischief in the gray-blue eyes. ’I’m sure you ought to hear what has to
be done, for you are to be in the chair, you know.’
’Me?’ said he, in astonishment. ’I never tried such a thing in my
life.’
’Oh yes,’ she said cheerfully. ’They tell me you are always at the head
of the merry-makings: and is not this a simple thing? And besides, I do
not want any other grown people—I do not want Mr. Murray—he is a very
nice man—but he would be making jokes for the grown-up people all the
time. I want nobody but you and Maggie and myself besides the children,
and we will manage it very well, I am sure.’
There was a touch of flattery in the proposal.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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