The Lilac Sunbonnet: A Love Story

s not, indeed, wholly a girl of the south uplands. Her grandmother was never done reminding her of her "Englishy"

, Adam Skirving-whose death, coming after the loss of her own mother, had taken such an effect upon her g

type, and his farm, which included all kinds of soil-arable and pasture, meadow and moor, hill pasture and wood-was of the

the old moss-trooping Lochenkit Gordons, that had ridden with the laird of Redgauntlet in the killing time, and more recently had been out with Maxwell of Nithsdale, and Gordon of Kenmure, to strike a blow for the "King-over-the-Water." And to this very

great heart-breaks had crossed their lives: the shadow of the life story of Winsome's mother, that earlier Winsome whose name had not been heard for twenty years in the house of Craig Ronald; a

lloway, and opened out with each succeeding year, like the bud of a moss rose growing in a moist place, Winsome had thought no more of masculine admiration than of the dull cattle that "goved" [stared stupidly] upon her as she picked her deft way among the stalls in the byre. In all Craig Ronald there was nothing between the hill and the best room that did not bear the mark of Winsome's method and administrative capacity. In perfect dependence upon Winsome, her granny had gradually abandoned

farm stood in awe of Meg's prowess, and very especially of Meg's tongue. So also the work fell mostly upon these two, and

name Allan Welsh appeared, as well as the Latin Luther Commentary, and the Hebrew Lexicon, on the fi

ed them down to the bridge, where Meg and her sister were already deep in the mysteries of frothing tubs and boiling pots. Winsome from the broomy ridge could hear the shrill "

sed in lilac-" She paused still more thoughtfully. "Well, we shall see." She bent over and pulled the milky-stalked, white-seeded head of a dandelion. Taking

ed her pretty

nfant when he ran from the blan

ly from the round and venerable downpolled dandelion. They floated

led laddie yon. Ye couldna see his legs or coat-ta

r broad Scots. She had lear

en-I'll no can set the dogs on him then-sixteen, seve

freely now, like snow from the

ce my elders. If I don't blow stronger he'll

atch on the grass. Only one pale grey star stood erect on the ste

ding with his hat in his hand and an eager flu

ooking with crimson cheeks and quicker-coming breath a

one might count a score-silent and drinking each the other in, with that flashi

engaged. Not, of course, that she cared for a moment what he thought of her, but he ought to have known better than

came from Edinburgh the day before yesterda

f broom. But where was the note-book? Like a surge of Solway tide the remembrance came over her that, when she had plucked the dandelion for her soothsaying, she had thrust it carelessly into the bosom of her lilac-sprigged gown. In

to have entirely forgotten what it was that had brought him to Loch Grannoch bridge so early this June morning. Winsome took advantage of his glance to feel that her sunbonnet sat straight, and as her hand was on its way to her clusterin

m now? He saw the sunbonnet resting upon the wavy distraction of the pale gold hair. He

ack, shaking out her tresses in a way that Ralph Peden never

one!" he sudde

tively. Ralph Peden, who had taken a step forward in the

" he said very humb

uncertain w

licity of the young man, in one full eye-blink re

you liked lil

nly to Mr. Welsh had his forgetful tongue uttered the word that was in his mind, and which had covered

ng as an honest and bashful man may in t

ou not?" said Winsome, gravely, for such conver

d facility most unbecoming in a student desiring letters of prob

books, which, as Winsome knew, wer

them quite sa

ight," he answered, "but in s

same thing on Loch

ns

n-that I had left a small book with some manu

among the broom," rep

ess of tresses not far from one another, while the "book of manuscript notes" rose and f