Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 21
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 21
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
Such was the substance of Henderson's communications to his wife
regarding the horseman. The latter's to him was of the youth and
exceeding beauty of his fair companion, and of her apparently prodigious
wealth. The worthy man drank in with greedy ears, and looks of excessive
wonderment, her glowing descriptions of the sparkling jewels and heavily
laden purse which she had seen the strange lady deposit on the table;
and greatly did these descriptions add to his perplexity as to who or
what this lady could possibly be.
Tired of conjecturing, the worthy couple now again retired to rest,
trusting that the morning would bring some light on a subject which so
sadly puzzled them.
In due time that morning came, and, like many of those mornings that
succeed a night of storm, it came fair and beautiful. The wind was laid,
the rain had ceased, and the unclouded sun poured his cheerful light
through the dark green glades of the Torwood.
On the same morning another sun arose, although to shine on a more
limited scene. This was the fair guest of David Henderson of Woodlands,
whose beauty, remarkable as it had seemed on the previous night under
all disadvantages, now appeared to surpass all that can be conceived of
female perfection.
Mrs. Henderson looked, and, we may say, gazed on the fair stranger with
a degree of wonder and delight, that for some time prevented her
tendering the civilities which she came for the express purpose of
offering. For some seconds she could do nothing but obey a species of
charm, for which, perhaps, she could not have very well accounted. The
gentle smile, too, and melodious voice of her guest, seemed still more
fascinating than on the previous evening.
In the meantime the day wore on, and there was yet no appearance of the
lady's companion of the former night, who, as the reader will
recollect, had promised to Henderson to return and carry away his fair
lodger.
Night came, and still he appeared not. Another day and another night
passed away, and still he of the black charger was not forthcoming.
The circumstance greatly surprised both Henderson and his wife; but it
did not surprise them more than the lady's apparent indifference on the
subject. She indeed joined, in words at least, in the wonder which they
once or twice distantly hinted at the conduct of the recreant knight;
but it was evident that she did not feel much of either astonishment or
disappointment at his delay.
Again and again, another and another day came and passed away, and still
no one appeared to inquire after the fair inmate of Woodlands.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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