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
"Your father had not yet passed as an advocate, and had no means of
subsistence, save what he got from his father. It was imperative that
his marriage should be kept secret from every one. Your mother resided
with her aunt only until your father had furnished a small house, near
the foot of our close, for his beloved wife--an achievement he could not
get accomplished so quickly as he wished, without raising curiosity as
to the cause of his repeated demands for money. Nearly four months
passed on after the marriage, and your mother still resided with her
aunt, who, since her sister's death, had become gay, and had many
visiters--principally bachelors--all paying her court, old as she was,
for the sake of her wealth; and several of them often paying more
attention to the young wife than she wished. Among the visitants was
one, a great favourite with the aunt, a retired officer, of an abandoned
turn, but connected with some of the oldest families in Scotland. He was
well received in most companies, and welcomed for his wit and jovial
manner. I recollect I was waiting your father's return from a tavern
party, principally young lawyers, before I went to my own house for the
night, when he came home much sooner than I had expected, greatly
agitated, and in high anger. Alarmed at his unwonted manner, I, with
all the humble freedom I could ever use with him, implored him to tell
me what had occurred to disturb him so much. After he had become more
calm, he told me that Captain Ogilvie had been of the party; that they
had drunk pretty freely, and were giving toasts; that the captain
pledged Rose, your mother, and spoke more lightly of her than he could
endure to hear; and that a quarrel had ensued, and blows had been
struck. He then desired me to see that his rapier was sharp and in
order, as he was to meet the captain by five the next morning in the
Duke's Walk. My anger against the vile traducer was as great as that of
my master. I wished I could meet him in his place; for I had a strong
feeling that evil would come out of it; but this was impossible.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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