Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 10
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 10
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
unmingled with thick-coming fancies, horrible forebodings, which,
without assuming any definite form, were prophetic of wo, she fixed her
eyes upon the retiring vehicle, and, rooted to the spot where she stood,
motionless as a Niobe of stone, gazed and gazed till her eyeballs ached.
"Can it be?" she at last exclaimed, with wild emotion--"can it
be?--No--no--'tis but fancy; yet the place!--gracious powers!" Her eyes
continued to follow the retiring wheels, fixed upon them she knew not by
what mysterious power; and long she might have remained in this
position, had not some person from behind softly addressed her. She
turned round, and her eyes fell upon her former suitor, Dr G----. Let
her astonishment be imagined--we will not attempt to give words to her
feelings.
"It is to you, then," she said, after recovering from her surprise--"it
is to you, Dr G----, that I am indebted for information regarding my
lost husband."
"It is," he replied; "but not a moment is to be lost. Things are in a
worse condition than they were when I despatched my letter to you. But
let us proceed instantly to Grassyvale. On the way I will inform you of
all that has come to my knowledge regarding that monster--it were a
profanation of language to call him husband."
So saying, they commenced their journey, which we shall leave them to
prosecute whilst we bring up some parts of our narrative which have
been necessarily left in the rear.
We need hardly say that the morning of her marriage was an anxious and a
busy one to May Darling. It is true that she had plenty of assistance
afforded her by the village matrons, and by a few youthful associates,
whom she had singled out as especial favourites, from amongst many who
were regarded by her with affection. But still a fastidiousness of taste
always seizes people on those occasions when they are desirous of
appearing to the best advantage. Besides, when there are a number of
lady's-maids, all busily engaged in decorating a single individual, a
difference of opinion relative to the various items of dress always
takes place, and occasions much delay. One of them is clear that such
and such a colour of riband will best suit the complexion of the wearer;
another holds out strongly for an opposite hue; and a third silences
them both by asserting that neither answer the colour of the bonnet.
What sort of flowers would most fittingly ornament the hair was also a
subject of protracted debate; and half-an-hour was wasted in determining
whether the riband which was to circle her waist like a zone should hang
down or not. Matters, however, were at last adjusted--the bride was
arrayed, the hour of twelve was struck by a small wooden clock which
ticked behind the door; and with the hour there arrived at the cottage a
sort of rude palanquin, fashioned of birch-tree boughs, which
intertwisted with each other, and were interwoven with branches of
flowering shrubs; and upon this some of the kindest and blithest-hearted
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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