Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 08
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 08
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
"Ye remember whan I first got acquainted wi' Tibby, she was doing the
bondage work at Riselaw. I first saw her coming out o' Eccles kirk ae
day, and I really thocht that I had never seen a better-faured or a more
gallant-looking lass. Her cheeks were red and white like a half-ripe
strawberry, or rather, I should say, like a cherry; and she seemed as
modest and meek as a lamb. It wasna very lang until I drew up; and,
though she didna gie me ony great encouragement at first, yet, in a week
or twa, after the ice was fairly broken, she became remarkably ceevil,
and gied me her oxter on a Sunday. We used to saunter about the
loanings, no saying meikle, but unco happy; and I was aye restless whan
I was out o' her sight. Ye may guess that the shoemaker was nae loser by
it during the six months that I ran four times a-week, wet or dry,
between Birgham and Riselaw. But the term-time was drawing nigh, and I
put the important question, and pressed her to name the day. She hung
her head, and she seemed no to ken weel what to say; for she was sae mim
and sae gentle then, that ye wad hae said 'butter wadna melt in her
mouth.' And when I pressed her mair urgently--
"'I'll just leave it to yersel, Peter,' says she.
"I thocht my heart wad louped out at my mouth. I believe there never was
a man sae beside himsel wi' joy in this warld afore. I fairly danced
again, and cut as many antics as a merryandrew. 'O Tibby,' says I,
'I'm owre happy now!--Oh, haud my head!
This gift o' joy is like to be my dead.'
"'I hope no, Peter,' said she; 'I wad rather hae ye to live than dee for
me.'
"I thocht she was as sensible as she was bonny, and better natured than
baith.
"Weel, I got the house set up, the wedding-day cam, and everything
passed owre as agreeably as onybody could desire. I thocht Tibby turning
bonnier and bonnier. For the first five or six days after the weddin,
everything was '_hinny_,' and '_my love_,' and '_Tibby, dear_,' or
'_Peter, dear_.' But matters didna stand lang at this. It was on a
Saturday nicht, I mind, just afore I was gaun to drap work, that three
or four acquaintances cam into the shop to wush me joy, and they
insisted I should pay off for the weddin. Ye ken I never was behint
hand; and I agreed that I wad just fling on my coat and step up wi' them
to Orange Lane. So I gaed into the house and took down my market coat,
which was hangin behint the bed; and after that I gaed to the kist to
tak out a shilling or twa; for, up to that time, Tibby had not usurped
the office of Chancellor o' the Exchequer. I did it as cannily as I
could; but she had suspected something, and heard the jinkin o' the
siller.
"'What are ye doing, Patie?' says she; 'whar are ye gaun?'
"I had never heard her voice hae sic a sound afore, save the first time
I drew up to her, when it was rather sharp than agreeable.
"'Ou, my dear,' says I, 'I'm just gaun up to Orange Lane a wee while.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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