Tuesday, January 8, 2008

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Summer was already past its prime, when Edgar reluctantly yielded his assent to their entreaties, and Catherine and I set out on our first ride to join her cousin. It was a close, sultry day: devoid of sunshine, but with a sky too dappled and hazy to threaten rain; and our place of meeting had been fixed at the guide-stone, by the crossroads. On arriving there, however, a little herd-boy, dispatched as a messenger, told us that:
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`Maister Linton wer just ut this side th' Heights: and he'd be mitch obleeged to us to gang on a bit farther.'
`Then Master Linton has forgot the first injunction of his uncle,' I observed: `he bid us keep on the Grange land, and here we are off at once.'
`Well, we'll turn our horses' heads round, when we reach him,' answered my companion, `our excursion shall lie towards home.'

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

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Anonymous said...

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