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From this wight, who now and then dropped alongside of his horse, Waverley hoped to acquire some information, or at least to beguile the way with talk. 'A fine evening, sir, was Edward's salutation. 'Ow, ay, sir! a bra' night, replied the lieutenant, in broad Scotch of the most vulgar description. 'And a fine harvest, apparently, continued Waverley, following up his first attack.
Bra, Aph-Lin's wife, seldom stirred beyond the gardens which surrounded the house, and was fond of reading the ancient literature, which contained something of romance and adventure not to be found in the writings of recent ages, and presented pictures of a life unfamiliar to her experience and interesting to her imagination; pictures, indeed, of a life more resembling that which we lead every day above ground, coloured by our sorrows, sins, passions, and much to her what the tales of the Genii or the Arabian Nights are to us.
For a single instant she sat there numb, neither believing nor comprehending. But then he seized her violently by the front of the blouse, lifting her to him. And with a quick insertion of the blade and a hard jerk backwards, he cut away her bra, ripping the garment wide open as he threw her back onto the ground.
"It's warm in here," she said, taking off her jacket and opening the top two buttons of her tight blouse. "Yes." As they talked and drank, Oliver settled in his chair, his eyes on the opening in her blouse and the lacy rising edge of her bra. A familiar undertow pulled him down; he wanted to be lower than she was. She watched, opened her blouse farther, and let it happen.
Wauverley, put it a' into my hand frae the beginning frae the first calling o' the summons, as I may say. I circumvented them I played at bogle about the bush wi' them I cajolled them; and if I havena gien Inch-Grabbit and Jamie Howie a bonnie begunk, they ken themselves. Him a writer! I didna gae slapdash to them wi' our young bra' bridegroom, to gar them baud up the market.
He danced up with his usual ungainly frolics, first to the Baron and then to Rose, passing his hands over his clothes, crying, 'Bra', bra' Davie, and scarce able to sing a bar to an end of his thousand- and-one songs for the breathless extravagance of his joy. The dogs also acknowledged their old master with a thousand gambols.
Pleasant Verona! In the midst of it, in the Piazza di Bra a spirit of old time among the familiar realities of the passing hour is the great Roman Amphitheatre. So well preserved, and carefully maintained, that every row of seats is there, unbroken.
A group of officers, of the cavalry, with a few infantry uniforms skirting them, were sitting in the pleasant cooling evening air, fanned by the fresh springing breeze, outside one of the Piazza Bra caffes, close upon the shadow of the great Verona amphitheatre.
"Don't touch, Oliver. Just look." She leaned over him. "You'd like me to take off my bra, wouldn't you?" "Yes," he said. "Mistress." His throat was dry. "I love how you want me," she said. "Can I trust you to control yourself?" "Yes, Mistress." She removed her bra slowly, watching him with pleasure. He swallowed. "You are the sweetest love," she said, laughing.
"He is a bra' farmer, I know," quoth the steward, "so far as the theory goes; but I don't think we in the North want great lords to teach us how to follow the pleugh." The steward's sense of dignity is hurt; but he is an honest fellow, and really glad to see the family come to settle in the old place. They have arrived, and with them the Castletons and a whole posse comitatus of guests.
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