Read Online Rob Roy by Walter Scott - Free Book Online Page B

the manner in which Miss Vernon pronounced these words. My knowledge of life was sufficient to enable me to take up a corresponding tone as I expressed my gratitude to her for her condescension, and my extreme pleasure at having met with them. To say the truth, the compliment was so expressed, that the lady might easily appropriate the greater share of it, for Thorncliff seemed an arrant country bumpkin, awkward, shy, and somewhat sulky withal. He shook hands with me, however, and then intimated his intention of leaving me that he might help the huntsman and his brothers to couple up the hounds, a purpose which he rather communicated by way of information to Miss Vernon than as apology to me.
    â€˜There he goes,’ said the young lady, following him with eyes in which disdain was admirably painted,—‘the prince of grooms and cock-fighters, and blackguard horse-coursers. But there is not one of them to mend another.—Have you read Markham?’ said Miss Vernon.
    â€˜Read whom, ma’am?—I do not even remember the author’s name.’
    â€˜O lud! on what a strand you are wrecked!’ replied the young lady. ‘A poor forlorn and ignorant stranger, unacquainted with the Alcoran of the savage tribe whom you are come to reside among—Never to have heard of Mar-kham, the most celebrated author on farriery! then I fear you are equally a stranger to the more modern names of Gibson and Bartlett?’
    â€˜I am indeed, Miss Vernon.’
    â€˜And do you not blush to own it?’ said Miss Vernon. ‘Why, we must forswear your alliance. Then, I suppose, you can neither give a ball, nor a mash, nor a horn?’
    â€˜I confess I trust all these matters to an ostler, or to my groom.’
    â€˜Incredible carelessness!—And you cannot shoe a horse, or cut his mane and tail; or worm a dog, or crop his ears, or cut his dew-claws; or reclaim a hawk, or give him his casting-stones, or direct his diet when he is sealed; or——’
    â€˜To sum up my insignificance in one word,’ replied I, ‘I am profoundly ignorant of all these rural accomplishments.’
    â€˜Then, in the name of Heaven, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, what
can
you do?’
    â€˜Very little to the purpose, Miss Vernon; something, however, I can pretend to—When my groom has dressed my horse I can ride him, and when my hawk is in the field I can fly him.’
    â€˜Can you do this?’ said the young lady, putting her horse to a canter.
    There was a sort of rude overgrown fence crossed the path before us, with a gate, composed of pieces of wood from the forest; I was about to move forward to open it, when Miss Vernon cleared the obstruction at a flying leap. I wasbound, in point of honour, to follow, and was in a moment again at her side.
    â€˜There are hopes of you yet,’ she said. ‘I was afraid you had been a very degenerate Osbaldistone. But what on earth brings you to Cub-Castle?—for so the neighbours have christened this hunting-hall of ours. You might have staid away, I suppose, if you would?’
    I felt I was by this time on a very intimate footing with my beautiful apparition, and therefore replied in a confidential under-tone,—‘Indeed, my dear Miss Vernon, I might have considered it a sacrifice to be a temporary resident in Osbaldistone Hall, the inmates being such as you describe them; but I am convinced there is one exception that will make amends for all deficiencies.’
    â€˜O, you mean Rashleigh?’ said Miss Vernon.
    â€˜Indeed I do not; I was thinking—forgive me—of some person much nearer me.’
    â€˜I suppose it would be proper not to understand your civility?—But that is not my way—I don’t make a curtsey for it, because I am sitting on horse-back. But, seriously, I deserve your exception, for I am the only conversable being about the Hall, except the old priest and Rashleigh.’
    â€˜And who is