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
But this was not all: before two months elapsed, and just as her husband
was beginning to set his foot to the ground again, from friction and
negligence together, the thrashing-machine took fire. It was still a
severe frost, there was scarce a drop of water to be procured about the
place, and, in spite of the exertions of all the people on the farm, and
their neighbours, who came to their assistance, the fierce flames
roared, spread, and rushed from stack to stack, until the barn, the
stables, the stackyard, and the dwelling-house presented a heap of
smouldering ashes and smoking ruins. Yet this was not the worst evil
which had that day fallen upon Richard Rogers. He was one of those
individuals who have an aversion to the very name of a bank, and he had
the savings and the profits of twenty years--in fifty-pound notes, and
in five-pound notes, and crown-pieces--locked away in a strong drawer
in his bedroom. In the confusion of the fire, and as he bustled halting
about, with the hope of saving some of his wheat-stacks (for wheat was
selling high at the time), he forgot the strong drawer, and his twenty
years' savings, until flames were seen bursting from the window of his
bedroom. The window had been left open, and some of the burning
materials having been blown into the room, it was the first part of the
house which caught fire.
"Oh, I'm ruined!--I'm ruined!" cried Richard; "my siller!--my
siller!--my hard-won siller!"
A rush was made to the bedroom; but before they reached it, the stairs
gave way, the floor fell in, and a thick flame and suffocating smoke
buried the fruits of poor Richard's industry--the treasure which he had
laid up for his children.
"Now, I am a beggar!" groaned he, lifting up his hands, while the flames
almost scorched his face.
"Oh, black sorrow tak that leddy!" cried Nelly, wringing her hands;
"what tempted her to be my first-foot?--or what tempted me to gie her a
licht? George! George! it was a' you! We gied fire out o' the house, and
now we've brocht it about us! Wae's me!--wae's me! I'm a ruined woman!
Oh, Richard, what will we do? What was ye thinking about, that ye didna
mind the siller?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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