together on Tuesday.”
And so it was arranged and the next morning I spent in the paddock with Alastair.
At luncheon Alastair said to my father: “Your daughter will soon be a champion rider.”
I laughed. “You exaggerate. Besides, I shall not have the opportunity for all the practise I should need.”
“You must come again … soon, before you forget what I have taught you. We’ll arrange something.”
“That is most hospitable of you,” began my father.
Alastair raised a hand. “Please … the pleasure is all mine. What about the weekend after next?”
My father hesitated. Zillah gave him a sideways glance. He turned to her and said: “What do you say, my dear?”
“It seems delightful,” she answered.
“Well, Alastair, if you are sure we shall not be encroaching …”
“Encroaching, my dear fellow! As I have told you, the pleasure is all mine.”
“Not all surely,” said Zillah with a little laugh. “David dear, you know we should love to come. The week after next, is it?”
“That is settled then,” said Alastair.
We travelled back to Edinburgh on the Tuesday.
When I was unpacking Zillah came into my room. She sat on the bed regarding me slightly sardonically.
She said: “The McCrae affair progresses with speed. What a charming gentleman he is. Is he beginning to wean you from the impecunious but oh so charming Jamie?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, just is it going to be Papa’s choice or yours?”
I was alarmed. It was obvious, of course, but I had refused to think of it too seriously.
Alastair McCrae would be a suitable husband. He had wealth and standing in the city. Jamie was a humble student. He had his way to make and there was the question as to whether he would make it.
I had been stupid, while I was enjoying my riding lessons under the benevolent eyes of my father, not to accept the fact that this was part of a well-laid scheme.
How incredibly innocent I was! My father disapproved of Jamie, whose existence had brought home the fact that it was time I married and settled in life out of the path of penniless students who in his view were in all probability grasping adventurers.
There would be no questioning that with Alastair McCrae; he was probably more wealthy than my father.
Zillah was watching me through half-closed eyes. There was a smile about her lips.
I should be grateful to her. She was making me see life through her somewhat cynical but highly sophisticated eyes.
I T WAS SOON AFTER OUR RETURN that my father was taken ill. It happened during the night, but I did not hear about it until the morning.
Zillah said he had awakened her at about three o’clock feeling very sick. She had been up with him half the night. She had given him a powder to settle his stomach, she said. It was a well-known recipe for that sort of trouble. It had not been effective immediately, but after a while he had felt better; and now he was sleeping peacefully.
“Shall I send for the doctor, Madam?” asked Kirkwell.
“I think we might wait awhile,” said Zillah. “You know how he hates the thought of the doctor coming. He kept saying he didn’t want him. He’d be better soon. I’ll watch him carefully. And if there is a return of the symptoms … yes, certainly we’ll get the doctor. It’s just that he hates a fuss and we don’t want to upset him. It’s something he’s eaten most likely, so … let’s wait awhile.”
She kept him in bed all day.
I heard Mrs. Kirkwell mutter something about old men’s marrying young wives. Sometimes it was too much for them. “A man’s as old as his years and it’s not going to do him much good to fancy he’s a young one … when he is not. He’s going to pay for it … sooner or later.”
I think everyone was surprised by how assiduously Zillah played the nurse; and he had recovered the next day, except that he felt a little weak, which was natural.
“You were wonderful, my dear,” he told Zillah. “I’d never thought of
And so it was arranged and the next morning I spent in the paddock with Alastair.
At luncheon Alastair said to my father: “Your daughter will soon be a champion rider.”
I laughed. “You exaggerate. Besides, I shall not have the opportunity for all the practise I should need.”
“You must come again … soon, before you forget what I have taught you. We’ll arrange something.”
“That is most hospitable of you,” began my father.
Alastair raised a hand. “Please … the pleasure is all mine. What about the weekend after next?”
My father hesitated. Zillah gave him a sideways glance. He turned to her and said: “What do you say, my dear?”
“It seems delightful,” she answered.
“Well, Alastair, if you are sure we shall not be encroaching …”
“Encroaching, my dear fellow! As I have told you, the pleasure is all mine.”
“Not all surely,” said Zillah with a little laugh. “David dear, you know we should love to come. The week after next, is it?”
“That is settled then,” said Alastair.
We travelled back to Edinburgh on the Tuesday.
When I was unpacking Zillah came into my room. She sat on the bed regarding me slightly sardonically.
She said: “The McCrae affair progresses with speed. What a charming gentleman he is. Is he beginning to wean you from the impecunious but oh so charming Jamie?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, just is it going to be Papa’s choice or yours?”
I was alarmed. It was obvious, of course, but I had refused to think of it too seriously.
Alastair McCrae would be a suitable husband. He had wealth and standing in the city. Jamie was a humble student. He had his way to make and there was the question as to whether he would make it.
I had been stupid, while I was enjoying my riding lessons under the benevolent eyes of my father, not to accept the fact that this was part of a well-laid scheme.
How incredibly innocent I was! My father disapproved of Jamie, whose existence had brought home the fact that it was time I married and settled in life out of the path of penniless students who in his view were in all probability grasping adventurers.
There would be no questioning that with Alastair McCrae; he was probably more wealthy than my father.
Zillah was watching me through half-closed eyes. There was a smile about her lips.
I should be grateful to her. She was making me see life through her somewhat cynical but highly sophisticated eyes.
I T WAS SOON AFTER OUR RETURN that my father was taken ill. It happened during the night, but I did not hear about it until the morning.
Zillah said he had awakened her at about three o’clock feeling very sick. She had been up with him half the night. She had given him a powder to settle his stomach, she said. It was a well-known recipe for that sort of trouble. It had not been effective immediately, but after a while he had felt better; and now he was sleeping peacefully.
“Shall I send for the doctor, Madam?” asked Kirkwell.
“I think we might wait awhile,” said Zillah. “You know how he hates the thought of the doctor coming. He kept saying he didn’t want him. He’d be better soon. I’ll watch him carefully. And if there is a return of the symptoms … yes, certainly we’ll get the doctor. It’s just that he hates a fuss and we don’t want to upset him. It’s something he’s eaten most likely, so … let’s wait awhile.”
She kept him in bed all day.
I heard Mrs. Kirkwell mutter something about old men’s marrying young wives. Sometimes it was too much for them. “A man’s as old as his years and it’s not going to do him much good to fancy he’s a young one … when he is not. He’s going to pay for it … sooner or later.”
I think everyone was surprised by how assiduously Zillah played the nurse; and he had recovered the next day, except that he felt a little weak, which was natural.
“You were wonderful, my dear,” he told Zillah. “I’d never thought of
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