Malcom by George MacDonald (e books for reading .txt) 📖

or Christian-like o' him to be aye at it, ower an' ower, aye gloryin'-as gien he had a'thing sae by ord'nar' 'cause he was by ord'nar' himsel', an' they a' cam till him by the verra natur' o' things. There was but ae thing in which he was na fawvoured, and that was, that he had nae son to tak up what he left. But it maittered the less, that the teetle as weel's the lan's, wad, as the tale tells, gang a' the same till a lass bairn-an' a lass bairn he had."

"That is the case in the Lossie family," said the marquis.

"That's hoo I hae hard the tale, my lord; but I wad be sorry sud a' it conteens meet wi' like corroboration.-As I say, a dochter there was, an' gien a' was surpassin', she was surpassin' a'. The faimily piper, or sennachy, as they ca'd him-I wadna wonner, my lord, gien thae gran' pipes yer boonty gae my gran'father, had been his!-he said in ane o' his sangs, 'at the sun blinkit whanever she shawed hersel' at the hoose door. I s' warran' ae thing-'at a' the lads blinkit whan she luikit at them, gien sae be she cud ever be said to condescen' sae far as to luik at ony; for gien ever she set ee upo' ane, she never loot it rist: her ee aye jist slippit ower a face as gien the face micht or micht not be there -she didna ken or care. A'body said she had sic a hauchty leuk as was never seen on human face afore; an' for freen'ly luik, she had nane for leevin' cratur, 'cep' it was her ain father, or her ain horse 'at she rade upo'. Her mither was deid.

"Her father wad fain hae seen her merriet afore he dee'd, but the pride he had gien her was like to be the en' o' a', for she coontit it naething less than a disgrace to pairt wi' maiden leeberty. 'There's no man,' she wad say, whan her father wad be pressin' upo' the subjec',-'there's no mortal man, but yersel', worth the turn o' my ee.' An' the father, puir man, was ower weel pleased wi' the flattery to be sae angry wi' her as he wad fain hae luikit. Sae time gaed on, till frae a bonny lassie she had grown a gran' leddy, an' cud win up the hill nae forder, but bude to gang doon o' the ither side; an' her father was jist near han' daft wi' anxiety to see her wad. But no! never ane wad she hearken till.

"At last there cam to the hoose-that's Colonsay Castel, up there -ae day, a yoong man frae Norrawa', the son o' a great nobleman o' that country; an' wi' him she was some ta'en. He was a fine man to leuk at, an' he pat them a' to shame at onything that nott stren'th or skeel. But he was as heumble as he was fit, an' never teuk ony credit till himsel' for onything 'at he did or was; an' this she was ill pleased wi', though she cudna help likin' him, an' made nae banes o' lattin' him see 'at he wasna a'thegither a scunner till her.

"Weel, ae mornin', verra ear', she gaed oot intill her gairden, an luikit ower the hedge; an' what sud she see but this same yoong nobleman tak the bairn frae a puir traivellin' body, help her ower a dyke, and gie her her bairn again! He was at her ain side in anither meenute, but he was jist that meenute ahint his tryst, an' she was in a cauld rage at him. He tried to turn her hert, sayin' -wad she hae had him no help the puir thing ower the dyke, her bairnie bein' but a fortnicht auld, an' hersel' unco weak-like? but my leddy made a mou' as gien she was scunnert to hear sic things made mention o'. An' was she to stan' luikin' ower the hedge, an' him convoyin' a beggar wife an' her brat! An' syne to come to her ohn ever washen his han's! 'Hoot, my leddy,' says he, 'the puir thing was a human cratur!'-'Gien she had been a God's angel,' says she, 'ye had no richt to keep me waitin'.'-'Gien she had been an angel,' says he, 'there wad hae been little occasion, but the wuman stude in want o' help!'-'Gien 't had been to save her life, ye sudna hae keepit me waitin',' says she. The lad was scaret at that, as weel he micht, an' takin' aff 's bannet, he lowtit laich, an' left her. But this didna shuit my leddy; she wasna to be left afore she said gang! sae she cried him back, an' he cam, bannet in han'; an' she leuch, an' made as gien she had been but tryin' the smeddum o' 'im, an' thoucht him a true k-nicht. The puir fallow pluckit up at this, an' doon he fell upo's knees, an' oot wi' a' 'at was in 's hert,-hoo 'at he lo'ed her mair nor tongue cud tell, an' gien she wad hae him, he wad be her slave for ever.

"'Ye s' be that,' says she, an' leuch him to scorn. 'Gang efter yer beggar wife,' she says; 'I'm sick o' ye.'

"He rase, an' teuk up 's bannet, an' loupit the hedge, an' gae a blast upo' 's horn, an' gethered his men, an' steppit aboord his boat, ower by Puffie Heid yonner, an' awa to Norrowa' ower the faem, 'an was never hard tell o' in Scotlan' again. An' the leddy was hauchtier, and cairried her heid heicher nor ever-maybe to hide a scaum (slight mark of burning) she had taen, for a' her pride.

"Sae things gaed on as afore, till at len'th the tide o' her time was weel past the turn, an' a streak o' the snaw in her coal black hair. For, as the auld sang says,

Her hair was like the craw, An' her ble was like the snaw, An' her bow bendit lip Was like the rose hip, An' her ee was like the licht'nin', Glorious an' fricht'nin'. But a' that wad sune be ower!

"Aboot this time, ae day i' the gloamin', there cam on sic an awfu' storm, 'at the fowk o' the castel war frichtit 'maist oot o' their wits. The licht'nin' cam oot o' the yerd, an' no frae the lift at a'; the win' roared as gien 't had been an incarnat rage; the thunner rattlet an' crackit, as gien the mune an' a' the stars had been made kettledrums o' for the occasion; but never a drap o' rain or a stane o' hail fell; naething brak oot but blue licht an' roarin' win'. But the strangest thing was, that the sea lay a' the time as oonconcerned as a sleepin' bairn; the win' got nae mair grip o' 't nor gien a' the angels had been poorin' ile oot o' widows' cruses upo' 't; the verra tide came up quaieter nor ord'nar; and the fowk war sair perplext as weel's frichtit.

"Jist as the clock o' the castel chappit the deid o' the nicht, the clamour o' v'ices was hard throu' the thunner an' the win,' an' the warder-luikin' doon frae the heich bartizan o' the muckle tooer, saw i' the fire flauchts, a company o' riders appro'chin' the castel, a' upo' gran' horses, he said, that sprang this gait an' that, an shot fire frae their een. At the drawbrig they blew a horn 'at rowtit like a' the bulls o' Bashan, an' whan the warder challencht them, claimt hoose room for the nicht. Naebody had ever hard o' the place they cam frae; it was sae far awa 'at as sane 's a body hard the name o' 't, he forgot it again; but their beasts war as fresh an' as fu' o' smeddum as I tell ye, an' no a hair o' ane o' them turnt. There was jist a de'il's dizzen o' them an whaurever ye began to count them, the thirteent had aye a reid baird.

"Whan the news was taen to the markis-the yerl, I sud say- he gae orders to lat them in at ance; for whatever fau'ts he had, naither fear nor hainin' (penuriousness) was amang them. Sae in they cam, clatterin' ower the drawbrig, 'at gaed up an' down aneth them as gien it wad hae cast them.

"Richt fremt (strange) fowk they luikit whan they cam intill the coortyaird-a' spanglet wi' bonny bricht stanes o' a' colours. They war like nae fowk 'at ever the yerl had seen, an' he had been to Jeroozlem in 's day, an' had fouchten wi' the Saracenes. But they war coorteous men an' weel bred-an' maistly weel faured tu -ilk ane luikin' a lord's son at the least. They had na a single servin' man wi' them, an' wad alloo nane o' the fowk aboot the place to lay han' upo' their beasts; an' ilk ane as he said na, wad gie the stallion aneth him a daig wi' 's spurs, or a kick 'i the ribs, gien he was aff o' 's back, wi' the steel tae o' his bute; an' the brute wad lay his lugs i' the how o' 's neck, an' turn his heid asklent, wi' ae white ee gleyin' oot o' 't, an' lift a hin' leg wi' the glintin' shue turnt back, an' luik like Sawtan himsel' whan he daurna.

"Weel, my lord an' my leddy war sittin' i' the muckle ha', for they cudna gang to their beds in sic a byous storm, whan him 'at was the chief o' them was ushered in by the seneschal, that's the steward, like, booin' afore him, an' ca'in' him the Prence, an' nae mair, for he cudna min' the name o' 's place lang eneuch to say 't ower again.

"An' sae a prence he was! an', forbye that, jist a man by himsel' to luik at!-i' the prime o' life, maybe, but no freely i' the first o' 't, for he had the luik as gien he had had a hard time o' 't, an' had a white streak an' a craw's fit here and there-the liklier to please my leddy, wha lookit doon upo' a'body yoonger nor hersel'. He hae a commandin', maybe some owerbeirin' luik- ane at a man micht hae birstled up at, but a leddy like my leddy wad welcome as worth bringin' doon. He was dressed as never man had appears in Scotlan' afore-glorious withoot-no like the leddy i' the Psalms-for yer ee cud licht nowhaur but there was the glitter o' a stane, sae 'at he flashed a' ower, ilka motion he made. He cairret a short swoord at his side-no muckle langer nor my daddy's dirk, as gien he never foucht but at closs quarters -the whilk had three sapphires-blue stanes, they tell me-an muckle anes, lowin' i' the sheath o' 't, an' a muckler ane still i' the heft; only they war some drumly (clouded), the leddy thoucht, bein' a jeedge o' hingars at lugs (earrings) an' sic vainities.

"That may be 's it may, but in cam the prence, wi' a laich boo, an' a gran upstrauchtin' again; an' though, as I say, he was flashin' a' ower, his mainner was quaiet as the munelicht,-jist grace itsel'. He profest himsel unco' indebtit for the shelter accordit him; an' his een aye soucht the leddy's, an' his admiration o' her was plain in ilka luik an' gestur', an' though his words were feow, they a' meant mair nor they said. Afore his supper cam in, her hert was at his wull.

"They say that whan a wuman's late o' fa'in' in love-ye'll ken