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The Ayrshire Legatees

Page 74

Here Miss Mally Glencairn interposed, and informed Mrs. Craig, that a

noghty woman was not, as she seemed to think, a witch wife. "I am sure,"

said Miss Becky Glibbans, "that Mrs. Craig might have known that." "Oh,

ye're a spiteful deevil," whispered Miss Mally, with a smile to her; and

turning in the same moment to Miss Isabella Tod, begged her to read Miss

Pringle's letter--a motion which Mr. Snodgrass seconded chiefly to

abridge the conversation, during which, though he wore a serene

countenance, he often suffered much.

LETTER XXVIII

Miss Rachel Pringle to Miss Isabella Tod MY DEAR BELL--I am much obliged by your kind expressions for my little

present. I hope soon to send you something better, and gloves at the

same time; for Sabre has been brought to the point by an alarm for the

Yorkshire baronet that I mentioned, as showing symptoms of the tender

passion for my fortune. The friends on both sides being satisfied with

the match, it will take place as soon as some preliminary arrangements

are made. When we are settled, I hope your mother will allow you to come

and spend some time with us at our country-seat in Berkshire; and I shall

be happy to repay all the expenses of your journey, as a jaunt to England

is what your mother would, I know, never consent to pay for.

It is proposed that, immediately after the ceremony, we shall set out for

France, accompanied by my brother, where we are to be soon after joined

at Paris by some of the Argents, who, I can see, think Andrew worth the

catching for Miss. My father and mother will then return to Scotland;

but whether the Doctor will continue to keep his parish, or give it up to

Mr. Snodgrass, will depend greatly on the circumstances in which he finds

his parishioners. This is all the domestic intelligence I have got to

give, but its importance will make up for other deficiencies.

As to the continuance of our discoveries in London, I know not well what

to say. Every day brings something new, but we lose the sense of

novelty. Were a fire in the same street where we live, it would no

longer alarm me. A few nights ago, as we were sitting in the parlour

after supper, the noise of an engine passing startled us all; we ran to

the windows--there was haste and torches, and the sound of other engines,

and all the horrors of a conflagration reddening the skies. My father

sent out the footboy to inquire where it was; and when the boy came back,

he made us laugh, by snapping his fingers, and saying the fire was not

worth so much--although, upon further inquiry, we learnt that the house

in which it originated was burnt to the ground. You see, therefore, how

the bustle of this great world hardens the sensibilities, but I trust its

influence will never extend to my heart.

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