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Updated: June 14, 2025
The men laid their mother's body with those of the generations that had gone before her, beneath the long grass in their country churchyard near Rothieden a dreary place, one accustomed to trim cemeteries and sentimental wreaths would call it to Falconer's mind so friendly to the forsaken dust, because it lapt it in sweet oblivion.
But not even his dragon had turned aside his attentions from his violin; and many were the consultations between the boys as to how best she might be transported to Bodyfauld, where endless opportunities of holding communion with her would not be wanting. The difficulty was only how to get her clear of Rothieden.
Falconer kept as strict a watch as ever; while to Robert the evening journey, his violin and Miss St. John left at Rothieden, grew more than tame. The return was almost as happy an event to him as the first going. Now he could resume his lessons with the soutar. With Shargar it was otherwise. The freedom for so much longer from Mrs.
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