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Updated: May 1, 2025
"Are we to stand here a' day, sirs," exclaimed one tall young man, "and look at the burnt wa's of our kinsman's house? Every wreath of the reek is a blast of shame upon us! Let us to horse, and take the chase. Who has the nearest bloodhound?" "It's young Earnscliff," answered another; "and he's been on and away wi' six horse lang syne, to see if he can track them."
These are not the days of romance, when ladies are carried off merely for their beauty." "I fear," said Mr. Vere, "I can too well account for this strange incident. Read this letter, which Miss Lucy Ilderton thought fit to address from my house of Ellieslaw to young Mr. Earnscliff; whom, of all men, I have a hereditary right to call my enemy.
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.
He accepted, notwithstanding, a pair of she-goats from Earnscliff, which fed on the moor, and supplied him with milk. When Earnscliff found his gift had been received, he soon afterwards paid the hermit a visit. The old man was seated an a broad flat stone near his garden door, which was the seat of science he usually occupied when disposed to receive his patients or clients.
"Even now, though your rash and eccentric relation is somewhat tardy in announcing his purpose, I am far from opposing my authority against his wishes, although the person he desires you to regard as your future husband be young Earnscliff; the very last whom I should have thought likely to be acceptable to him, considering a certain fatal event.
"What needs I care for the Mucklestane-Moor ony mair than ye do yoursell, Earnscliff?" said Hobbie, something offended; "to be sure, they do say there's a sort o' worricows and lang-nebbit things about the land, but what need I care for them? I hae a good conscience, and little to answer for, unless it be about a rant amang the lasses, or a splore at a fair, and that's no muckle to speak of.
A general and powerful expression of sympathy accompanied him. "Ah, puir fallow puir Hobbie!" "He'll learn the warst o't now!" "But I trust Earnscliff will get some speerings o' the puir lassie." Such were the exclamations of the group, who, having no acknowledged leader to direct their motions, passively awaited the return of the sufferer, and determined to be guided by his directions.
I thought it best to slip out quietly though, in case she should mislippen something of what we're gaun to do we maunna vex her at nae rate it was amaist the last word my father said to me on his deathbed." "By no means, Hobbie," said Earnscliff; "she well merits all your attention." "Troth, for that matter, she would be as sair vexed amaist for you as for me.
I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind; For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, That I might love thee something. On the following morning, after breakfast, Earnscliff took leave of his hospitable friends, promising to return in time to partake of the venison, which had arrived from his house.
Mareschal hunted, shot, and drank claret tired of the country, went abroad, served three campaigns, came home, and married Lucy Ilderton. Years fled over the heads of Earnscliff and his wife, and found and left them contented and happy. The scheming ambition of Sir Frederick Langley engaged him in the unfortunate insurrection of 1715.
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