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Updated: May 4, 2025
Had count Solmes, Trim, done the same at the battle of Steenkirk, said Yorick, drolling a little upon the corporal, who had been run over by a dragoon in the retreat, he had saved thee; Saved! cried Trim, interrupting Yorick, and finishing the sentence for him after his own fashion, he had saved five battalions, an' please your reverence, every soul of them: there was Cutt's, continued the corporal, clapping the forefinger of his right hand upon the thumb of his left, and counting round his hand, there was Cutt's, Mackay's, Angus's, Graham's, and Leven's, all cut to pieces; and so had the English life-guards too, had it not been for some regiments upon the right, who marched up boldly to their relief, and received the enemy's fire in their faces, before any one of their own platoons discharged a musket, they'll go to heaven for it, added Trim.
"I hope you are mistaken, Cary." "I have no chance to be so," I answered; and I heard my voice tremble. "Colonel Keith bought Angus's freedom with his own life. At least, there is every reason to fear that result, and none to hope." "Then that man who escaped was Angus?" asked Hatty. I bowed my head. I felt inclined to burst out crying if I spoke.
"I think," he said, "that the most contemptible people in the world to-day are those politicians and others who, in years gone by, systematically cried down anything in the shape of national defence or national inclination to personal service, because they saw there were no votes in such a programme; and who now" Angus's passion rose to fever-heat, "stand up and endeavour to cultivate popular favour by reviling the Ministry and the Army for want of preparedness and initiative.
He became an expert detective and sleuth-hound, discovering and reporting Angus's movements each day to the enterprising Clan and its resourceful Chief. At Alan's suggestion, the Clan took for its motto "We must be canny," and canny they certainly were.
You will tell him, however, that the person his good-nature has laid under obligations to him, is one Le Fever, a lieutenant in Angus's but he knows me not, said he, a second time, musing; possibly he may my story added he pray tell the captain, I was the ensign at Breda, whose wife was most unfortunately killed with a musket-shot, as she lay in my arms in my tent.
"Oh, all women are sillies!" was Angus's flattering answer. "They're just a pack of ninnies, the whole lot of them." "It seems to me, Angus," observed Mr Keith, quite gravely, "that you must have paid twopence extra for manners." Flora and I laughed. "I was not rich enough to go in for any," growled Angus. "I'm not a laird's son, Mr Duncan Keith, so you don't need to throw stones at me."
I'd heard Angus's coming, early in the afternoon, and had heard him, too, or e'er half the cordial compliments were said, demand little Alice; and they told him I was over and away at Margray's, and in a thought the hall-doors clashed behind him and his heels were ringing up the street, and directly he hastened home again, through the gardens this time, and saw no sign of me; but now my heart beat so thickly, when I thought of him passing me in the dance, that, could I sit there still, I feared 'twould of itself betray me, and that warned me to question if the hour were not ready for the dances, and I rose and stole to the piano and sat awaiting my mother's word.
It was their usual manner of going home after a session meeting. "And may I ask," said J. P., when their personal part in the financing of Angus's affairs had been finally settled, and they stood at his gate for the third and last time, "may I ask, if it is not too curious on my part, if you intend to appropriate church funds for your contribution, or just rob the bank?"
He was imprisoned in the first windmill she had encountered on her Don Quixote quest and so he was to be rescued. She wakened to a world of blue and silver next morning; the sunlight seemed to come from the sea with a cold, hard glitter; there was a keenness in the air, a sharp tang of sea-salt with an underlying suggestion of something that was pleasantly reminiscent of Dr. Angus's surgery.
Thus he had not, so far, made great headway. His method of making up to Bell had been to drop in at T'nowhead on Saturday nights and talk with the farmer about the rinderpest. The farm kitchen was Bell's testimonial. Its chairs, tables, and stools were scoured by her to the whiteness of Rob Angus's sawmill boards, and the muslin blind on the window was starched like a child's pinafore.
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