Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 11
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 11
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
"And now, my dear young friend," said he, "what can I say to _you_? I
can't say anything just now, my heart is too full! but there's my
hand, and you shall find me, as long as I live, a firm and warm
friend."
I could only press _his_ affectionately in reply. He insisted upon my
remaining where I was for the night, and despatched a man on horseback
to explain to my friends the reason of my absence. From this time my
intercourse with the worthy captain became daily more intimate--almost
every spare hour of my time was devoted to his society. As his
character opened out upon me, I saw in his conduct so many proofs of
genuine goodness of heart and rectitude of principle, that I felt as
much affection and respect for him as for a dear and honoured parent.
His daughter Emmeline, too, was one of those gentle, retiring
characters, who may require to be known to be admired, and whose
virtues, like those of the sweet and modest violet, require to be
sought after to be properly appreciated. I was always fond of music.
We all know its influence over the feelings--its power to awaken the
hidden sympathies of the heart--to recall the joys and sorrows of the
past, and to stir up glowing anticipations and high resolves for the
future. Her voice was clear and sweet as a bird's; and when she
warbled over the melodies of her native land, I felt so much absorbed
in the beauty of the strain, as almost to forget the singer. You
smile, and anticipate the result. How could it be otherwise? How could
I live in close and constant communion with one so fascinating, and
escape the fascination? It is not amid the factitious glare and
excitement of society that such characters as hers can be appreciated:
there the tinsel too often glitters more brightly than the pure gold;
but in the calm and peaceful intercourse of domestic life, their pure
and gentle influence is felt and valued. I was becoming daily more and
more an admirer of the gentle Emmeline, when the sudden death of my
father awakened me from my dream of love, and startled me into serious
consideration. He died as he had lived--poor; for it was found, on
examining his affairs, that, though maintaining an appearance of
wealth and comfort, his life must have been a constant struggle with
difficulties; and there was barely sufficient left behind to satisfy
the claims of his creditors. Deeply as I was grieved by his loss, I
must say that feeling was not a little heightened by the
disappointment of finding myself unprovided for. I had always been led
to hope, that, though my father, from a wish to give me a spirit of
independence, had left me, during my early life, to the exertions of
my own energies for support, yet that at his death, he would leave me
a handsome competency. But this hope was now disappointed, and with it
vanished my bright dreams of Emmeline and happiness. I could not bear
the thoughts of exposing the woman of my heart to the risk of poverty
and privation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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