The Black Dwarf by Walter Scott (books to read for 12 year olds TXT) 📕

light below, that’s in the ha’ window, where grannie, the gash auld carline, is sitting birling at her wheel—and ye see yon other light that’s gaun whiddin’ back and forrit through amang the windows? that’s my cousin, Grace Armstrong,—she’s twice as clever about the house as my sisters, and sae they say themsells, for they’re good-natured lasses as ever trode on heather; but they confess themsells, and sae does grannie, that she has far maist action, and is the best goer about the toun, now that grannie is off the foot hersell.—My brothers, ane o’ them’s away to wait upon the chamberlain, and ane’s at Moss-phadraig, that’s our led farm—he can see after the stock just as weel as I can do.”

“You are lucky, my good friend, in having so many valuable relations.”

“Troth am I—Grace make me thankful, I’se never deny it.—But will ye tell me now, Earnscliff, you that have been at college, and the high-school of Edinburgh, and got a’ sort o’ lair where it was to be best gotten—will ye tell me—no that it’s ony concern of mine in particular,—but I heard the priest of St. John’s, and our minister, bargaining about it at the Winter fair, and troth they baith spak very weel—Now, the priest says it’s unlawful to marry ane’s cousin; but I cannot say I thought he brought out the Gospel authorities half sae weel as our minister—our minister is thought the best divine and the best preacher atween this and Edinburgh—Dinna ye think he was likely to be right?”

“Certainly marriage, by all protestant Christians, is held to be as free as God made it by the Levitical law; so, Hobbie, there can be no bar, legal or religious, betwixt you and Miss Armstrong.”

“Hout awa’ wi’ your joking, Earnscliff,” replied his companion,—“ye are angry aneugh yoursell if ane touches you a bit, man, on the sooth side of the jest—No that I was asking the question about Grace, for ye maun ken she’s no my cousin-germain out and out, but the daughter of my uncle’s wife by her first marriage, so she’s nae kith nor kin to me—only a connexion like. But now we’re at the Sheeling-hill—I’ll fire off my gun, to let them ken I’m coming, that’s aye my way; and if I hae a deer I gie them twa shots, ane for the deer and ane for mysell.”

He fired off his piece accordingly, and the number of lights were seen to traverse the house, and even to gleam before it. Hobbie Elliot pointed out one of these to Earnscliff, which seemed to glide from the house towards some of the outhouses-“That’s Grace hersell,” said Hobbie. “She’ll no meet me at the door, I’se warrant her—but she’ll be awa’, for a’ that, to see if my hounds’ supper be ready, poor beasts.”

“Love me, love my dog,” answered Earnscliff. “Ah, Hobbie, you are a lucky young fellow!”

This observation was uttered with something like a sigh, which apparently did not escape the ear of his companion.

“Hout, other folk may be as lucky as I am—O how I have seen Miss Isabel Vere’s head turn after somebody when they passed ane another at the Carlisle races! Wha kens but things may come round in this world?”

Earnscliff muttered something like an answer; but whether in assent of the proposition, or rebuking the application of it, could not easily be discovered; and it seems probable that the speaker himself was willing his meaning should rest in doubt and obscurity. They had now descended the broad loaning, which, winding round the foot of the steep bank, or heugh, brought them in front of the thatched, but comfortable, farm-house, which was the dwelling of Hobbie Elliot and his family.

The doorway was thronged with joyful faces; but the appearance of a stranger blunted many a gibe which had been prepared on Hobbie’s lack of success in the deer-stalking. There was a little bustle among three handsome young women, each endeavouring to devolve upon another the task of ushering the stranger into the apartment, while probably all were anxious to escape for the purpose of making some little personal arrangements, before presenting themselves to a young gentleman in a dishabille only intended for their brother.

Hobbie, in the meanwhile, bestowing some hearty and general abuse upon them all (for Grace was not of the party), snatched the candle from the hand of one of the rustic coquettes, as she stood playing pretty with it in her hand, and ushered his guest into the family parlour, or rather hall; for the place having been a house of defence in former times, the sitting apartment was a vaulted and paved room, damp and dismal enough compared with the lodgings of the yeomanry of our days, but which, when well lighted up with a large sparkling fire of turf and bog-wood, seemed to Earnscliff a most comfortable exchange for the darkness and bleak blast of the hill. Kindly and repeatedly was he welcomed by the venerable old dame, the mistress of the family, who, dressed in her coif and pinners, her close and decent gown of homespun wool, but with a large gold necklace and ear-rings, looked, what she really was, the lady as well as the farmer’s wife, while, seated in her chair of wicker, by the corner of the great chimney, she directed the evening occupations of the young women, and of two or three stout serving wenches, who sate plying their distaffs behind the backs of their young mistresses.

As soon as Earnscliff had been duly welcomed, and hasty orders issued for some addition to the evening meal, his grand-dame and sisters opened their battery upon Hobbie Elliot for his lack of success against the deer.

“Jenny needna have kept up her kitchen-fire for a’ that Hobbie has brought hame,” said one sister.

“Troth no, lass,” said another; “the gathering peat, if it was weel blawn, wad dress a’ our Hobbie’s venison.” [The gathering peat is the piece of turf left to treasure up the secret seeds of fire, without any generous consumption of fuel; in a word, to keep the fire alive.]

“Ay, or the low of the candle, if the wind wad let it hide steady,” said a third; “if I were him, I would bring hame a black craw, rather than come back three times without a buck’s horn to blaw on.”

Hobbie turned from the one to the other, regarding them alternately with a frown on his brow, the augury of which was confuted by the good-humoured laugh on the lower part of his countenance. He then strove to propitiate them, by mentioning the intended present of his companion.

“In my young days,” said the old lady, “a man wad hae been ashamed to come back frae the hill without a buck hanging on each side o’ his horse, like a cadger carrying calves.”

“I wish they had left some for us then, grannie,” retorted Hobbie; “they’ve cleared the country o’ them, thae auld friends o’ yours, I’m thinking.”

“We see other folk can find game, though you cannot, Hobbie,” said the eldest sister, glancing a look at young Earnscliff.

“Weel, weel, woman, hasna every dog his day, begging Earnscliff’s pardon for the auld saying—Mayna I hae his luck, and he mine, another time?—It’s a braw thing for a man to be out a’ day, and frighted—na, I winna say that neither but mistrysted wi’ bogles in the hame-coming, an’ then to hae to flyte wi’ a wheen women that hae been doing naething a’ the live-lang day, but whirling a bit stick, wi’ a thread trailing at it, or boring at a clout.”