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
Winter had passed away; the vernal eruption of spring had been matured
into the bloom and the promise which spring gives of autumn, when May
Darling one evening wandered forth from her father's cottage, attended
only by a little sister. Striking into that beautiful and unfrequented
path where she had last walked with him who, on the following day, was
to have become her husband, she had arrived at the very spot where lay
asleep on the grassy bank by the hedge-side the wife of Bolton. A train
of thought seemed suddenly to rush through her mind; for she sat, or
rather dropped, gently down. 'Twas the recollection of former events
which had begun to be reanimated within her; and, though faint, it was
sufficient to cause a temporary suspension of muscular energy: her sight
became dim, only vague images being presented to the eye; and she might
probably have fallen backwards, had not a person sprung through the
hedge, and, putting his arms around her slender form, maintained her in
an erect position. The individual who had thus so opportunely come to
her assistance was closely wrapped up in a greatcoat, although the
warmth of the weather rendered such a covering scarcely necessary. The
upper part of his countenance was concealed by a slouched hat drawn
pretty far down; but from what of it was visible, it was plain that
care, remorse, and dissipation, had gone far to modify its natural
expression.
May gradually revived from her partial swoon; and the stranger,
uncovering his head, and fixing his eyes upon the languid features which
began to assume the hue of life and the expression of conscious being,
said, in a low, trembling voice--
"May Darling, hear me--do not curse me--I am miserable enough without
the malison of her whom----" But his feelings, for a moment, choked his
utterance. "Through a thousand dangers and difficulties have I sought
this interview, only that I might obtain your forgiveness, and
acceptance of this small gift." Here he flung a purse down by her side.
"Say you forgive me, May--breathe but the word, and in a few days an
ocean shall roll between us."
But he spoke to ears which heard not. The moment that May recognised
Bolton, reason was restored, but animation fled, and she sank dead for a
time in his arms. He was about to take measures for her restoration,
when the rapid trampling of horses' hoofs drew his attention in another
direction; and, looking over the hedgerow, he perceived two horsemen, at
a very little distance, advancing towards the village. He seemed to be
aware of their errand, and the cause of their speed; for no sooner had
he cast his eyes on them, than his head instinctively slunk down behind
the hedge. But his precaution was too late. He had been seen; and that
night he was led, a fettered man, to the jail of H----, charged with
highway robbery. We may as well conclude his history, as well as that of
the other individuals who have been interwoven with our tale, before
returning to May Darling.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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