Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 06
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 06
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
But it was not long ere the graceful person and fascinating manners of
Cameron made an impression upon the artless and warm-hearted maiden. At
first, her brother's intimate friend, the preserver of his life, had, in
her view, just claims to her attention and grateful kindness; but she
soon felt that she esteemed, not to say loved him for himself. The
preserver of her brother would at all times have been dear to her; but
Allan Cameron woke in her heart a feeling inexpressibly more deep, more
tender, more intense.
Art had little influence in directing the conduct of the youthful
lovers; and it was not long till they experienced all that heaven of
delight which arises in the heart upon being assured of the mutual
return of affection. They had, however, kept their love hid from Ewan
Macpherson; both because his dark and gloomy manner forbade all
approaches to familiar confidence, and because, from the peculiar nature
of love, mystery and concealment are necessary to give it its highest
zest. Whatever might be the cause, certain it was that Allan Cameron and
Elizabeth Macpherson planned the little excursions, which they now
frequently made together, in such a manner that they might, as much as
possible, avoid being seen by Ewan.
At length, however, the suspicions of the proud chieftain were
aroused. It had never entered into his mind that Cameron might, by any
possibility, raise his presumptuous hopes so high as to dream of loving
the sister of Ewan Macpherson; and no sooner did he suspect the truth,
than he dashed from his mind every friendly and grateful feeling towards
the man who had saved his life; and saw in Allan Cameron only the
hereditary foe of his clan, whose daring insolence had attempted to
disgrace the name of Macpherson, by seeking to win the heart of its most
loftily descended maiden. Full of resentment at what he deemed so deep
an insult, he was ranging the groves and thickets of Glen Feracht in
quest of Cameron, like a wolf prowling for his unconscious victim.
The evening sun was at that time throwing his long lines of slanting
glory across the summits of the mountains, and lighting the clouds of
the west with a radiance too dazzling to be gazed upon, yet too
magnificent to permit the eye and the excited soul to wander for a
moment from the contemplation of its celestial splendour. Upon a gentle
eminence, whence the castle and the greater part of the glen might be
distinctly viewed, stood the lovers. They gazed with silent delight on
the beauty and magnificence of the scene around them; yet, amidst their
engrossing raptures, they had still enough of individual feeling
remaining to be sensible of that warm palpitation of the heart, which,
in the presence of a beloved object, so greatly enhances every feeling
of delight. On a sudden, they were startled by a rustling noise in the
adjoining thicket; and immediately forth bounded Bran, Macpherson's
staghound, his master's constant attendant.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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