Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: September 28, 2025
She tried one time of the day after another, but, now by accident and now by clever contrivance, Phemy was not to be come at. She had of late grown tricky. One of the windows of the schoolmaster's house commanded the street in both directions, and Phemy commanded the window.
"That luiks ill for Phemy," remarked Malcolm, when she had described his forlorn condition. "She canna be wi' 'im, or he wadna be like that. Hae ye onything by w'y o' coonsel, mem?" "I wad coonsel a word wi' the laird himsel' gien 't be to be gotten. He mayna ken what 's happent her, but he may tell ye the last he saw o' her, an' that maun be mair nor ye ken."
Before Phemy got to the top of the hill-shoulder, which she had to cross by a path no better than a sheep-track, the wind had turned to the north, and was blowing keen, with gathering strength, from the regions of everlasting ice, bringing with it a cold terrible to be faced by such a slight creature as Phemy; and so rapidly did its force increase that in a few minutes she had to fight for every step she took; so that, when at length she reached the top, which lay bare to the continuous torrent of fierce and fiercer rushes, her strength was already all but exhausted.
Although now he slept considerably better at night and less in the day, he would start to his feet at the slightest sound, like the dog he had almost ceased to imagine himself except in his dreams. In carrying messages, or in following directions, he had always shown himself perfectly trustworthy. Slowly, very slowly, Phemy recovered.
Kirsty did not go after him: she feared to tread on holy ground uninvited. Nor would she leave Phemy until her mother came. She got up, set the poor girl on the chair, and began to get ready the mid-day meal, hoping Phemy would help her, and gain some comfort from activity. Nor was she disappointed.
Brown haired, gray eyed Phemy Mair sat in the threshold, intently rubbing in her hands a small object like a moonstone.
'That canna be, Kirsty and it's no like ye to blaw! Your father was a common so'dier and his was cornel o' the regiment! 'Allooin! was all Kirsty's answer. Phemy betook herself to entreaty. 'Lat me gang, Kirsty! Please! I'll gang doon o' my knees til ye! I canna bide him to think I've played him fause. 'He'll play you fause, my lamb, whatever ye du or he think!
He never was a doonricht leear, sae lang's I kenned him ony mair nor yersel! But, for God's sake, Phemy, dinna imagine he'll ever merry ye, for that he wull not. 'This is really insufferable! cried Phemy, in a voice that began to tremble from the approach of angry tears. 'Pray, have you a claim upon him? 'Nane, no a shedow o' ane, returned Kirsty.
I ken Francie Gordon a heap better nor you, and though I ken nae ill o' him, I ken as little guid: he never did naething yet but to please himsel, and there never cam salvation or comfort to man, woman, or bairn frae ony puir cratur like him! 'How dare you speak such lies of a gentleman behind his back! cried Phemy, her eyes flashing. 'He is a friend of mine, and I will not hear him maligned!
As soon as all was over, Malcolm set out to return home. As he passed Joseph Mair's cottage, he found Phemy waiting for him at the door, still in the mild splendour of her pearl-like necklace. "I tellt the laird what ye tellt me to tell him, Malcolm," she said. "An' what did he say, Phemy?" asked Malcolm. "He said he kent ye was a freen'." "Was that a'?" "Ay; that was a'."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking