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Updated: June 3, 2025
How often and willingly do I not look again in fancy on Tummel, or Manor, or the talking Airdle, or Dee swirling in its Lynn; on the bright burn of Kinnaird, or the golden burn that pours and sulks in the den behind Kingussie!
"In a way, however, I suppose I'm responsible for the safety of the whole party. Could you have done Miss Kinnaird any good by staying?" Cold and half dazed as she was, a moment's reflection convinced Ida that she could have done very little beyond helping to keep her companion warm.
Arabella Kinnaird gazed at it intently when she had shaken some of the dew from the frills and folds of her rather bedraggled skirt. "It will never be quite the same again," she observed, evidently in reference to the latter, and then waved one hand as though to indicate the panorama, for she was usually voluble and disconnected in her conversation.
She was a tall, pale woman, with a coldly formal manner and some taste in dress. There were several other guests in the house, and the party spent most of the hot afternoon about the tennis net and lounging under the shadow of a big copper beech on the lawn. Once when Miss Weston left her to play in a set at tennis, Arabella Kinnaird leaned over the back of Ida's chair.
Kinnaird had done her utmost to prevent it, they were crossing the lake alone in the sailboat. The boat was running smoothly before a little favoring breeze, and Ida sat at the tiller, looking out upon the shining water. They had not spoken since they left the beach, but by and by she turned toward Weston.
If she wants to climb mountains or shoot rapids, it's to be done; but you'll fix things so it can be done safely. You're in charge of this outfit, and not that major man." Stirling was never addicted to mincing matters, but Weston could not quite repress a grin. "It would make things a little difficult if Major Kinnaird understands that," he said. "Then you must see that he doesn't.
"Grace Marks was hired by Captain Kinnaird to wait upon his housekeeper, a few days after I entered his service. She was a pretty girl, and very smart about her work, but of a silent, sullen temper. It was very difficult to know when she was pleased. Her age did not exceed seventeen years.
On the following morning they got sight of Kinnaird Head lighthouse in Aberdeenshire, and had the prospect of speedily reaching the Frith of Forth; but the wind having suddenly shifted to the south-east, and increased to a tremendous gale, the vessel immediately put about, and steered in quest of some safe harbour in Orkney.
While he and the Indians set about erecting a couple of tents, he saw Miss Kinnaird standing near him and gazing up across the misty pines toward the green transparency that still hung above the blue-white gleam of snow. "This," she said to Miss Stirling, "is really wonderful. One can't get hold of it at once. It's tremendous."
I had also a sight of Godwin the philosopher, grown old and thin of Douglas Kinnaird, whom I asked about Byron's statue, which is going forward of Luttrell, and others whom I knew not. I stayed an instant at Pickering's, a young publisher's, and bought some dramatic reprints.
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