Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science, Volume 26 December, 1880. - Various None (e book reader android txt) 📗
- Author: Various None
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Weary Occupants Were Safely Asleep: Then She Sat Up In bed. The
Moonlight Was Streaming Into The Room Through The Uncurtained Window,
And Lit Up Her Tumbled Head And Hot Face. After A Cautious Pause She
Stepped Out On The Floor And Went Round The Foot Of Her Bed To The
Window. She Knelt Down On The Floor, As If She Were In Search Of
Something, And Began Feeling With Her Hand On The Lower Part Of The
Shutter. Then, Close To The Floor, And In a Place Where They Were Likely
To Escape Detection, She Marked Clearly And Distinctly Eight Deep, Short
Scratches In an Even Line On The Yellow-Painted Woodwork. She Ran Her
Fingers Over Them Until She Could Feel Each Scratch Distinctly. Eight!
She Counted Them Thrice To Make Sure, Then Jumped Back Into Bed, And In
A Few Minutes Was As Fast Asleep As Her Neighbors.
The Days Wore Into Weeks, And The Weeks Had Soon Made A Month, And Time,
As It Went, Left Baubie More Demure, Quieter And More Diligent--Diligent
Apparently At Least, For The Knitting, Though It Advanced, Showed No
Sign Of Corresponding Improvement, And The Rest Of Her Work Was Simply
Scamped. March Had Given Way To April, And The Late Edinburgh Spring At
Last Began To Give Signs Of Its Approach. The Chestnuts Showed Brown
Glistening Tips To Their Branch-Ends, And Their Black Trunks Became
Covered With An Emerald-Colored Mildew; The Rod-Like Branches Of The
Poplars Turned A Pale Whitish-Green And Began To Knot And Swell; The
Water Of Leith Overflowed, And Ran Bubbling And Mud-Colored Under The
Bridge; And The Grass By Its Banks, And Even That In The Front Green Of
The Refuge, Showed Here And There A Red-Eyed Daisy. The Days Grew Longer
And Longer, And Of A Mild Evening The Thrush'S Note Was To Be Heard
Above The Brawling Of The Stream From The Thickets Of Dean Terrace
Gardens.
Baubie Wishart Waited Passively. Every Day Saw Her More Docile And
Demure, And Every Day Saw A New Scratch Added To Her Tally On The
Window-Shutter Behind Her Bed.
May Came, And The Days Climbed With Longer Strides To Their Goal, Now
Close; On Reaching Which They Return Slowly And Unwillingly, But Just As
Surely; And To Her Joy, About, The Third Week In May, Baubie Wishart
Counted One Warm, Clear Night Fifty-Nine Scratches On The Shutter.
Fifty-Nine! She Knew The Number Well Without Counting Them.
Volume 26 Title 1 (Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science) Pg 95Whether She Slept Or Watched That Night Is Not Known, But The Next
Morning At Four Saw Baubie Make A Hasty And Rather More Simple Toilette
Than Usual, Insomuch As She Forgot To Wash Herself, Brush Her Hair Or
Put On Her Shoes And Stockings. Barefooted And Bareheaded, Much As She
Had Come, She Went. She Stole Noiselessly As A Shadow Through The Outer
Dormitory, Passing The Rows Of Sleepers With Bated Breath, And Not
Without A Parting Glance Of Triumph At The Bed Where Her Rival,
Elizabeth Grant, Was Curled Up. Down The Wooden Stair, Her Bare Feet
Waking No Echoes, Glided Baubie, And Into The School-Room, Which Looked
Out On The Front Green. She Opened The Window Easily, Hoisted Herself On
The Sill, Crept Through And Let Herself Drop On The Grass Below. To
Scramble Up The Trunk Of One Of The Chestnuts And Swing Herself Over The
Wall Was Quickly Done, And Then She Was Once More On The Flagged Path Of
The Street, And The World Lay Before Her.
As She Stood For One Moment, Breathless With Her Haste And Excitement,
She Was Startled By The Sudden Apparition Of The House Cat, Who Was On
His Way Home As Surreptitiously As She Was On Hers Abroad. He Had One
Bloody Ear And A Scratched Nose, And Stared At Her As He Passed: Then,
Probably In The Hope Of Finding An Open Door After Her, He Jumped Over
The Wall Hurriedly. Baubie Was Seized With A Sudden Panic Lest The Cat
Should Waken Some One In The House, And She Took To Her Heels And Ran
Until She Reached The Bridge. The Morning Sun Was Just Beginning To
Touch The Tall Tops Of The Houses, And The Little Valley Through Which
The Water Of Leith Ran Lay Still In a Kind Of Clear Grayish Light, In
Which The Pale Tender Hues Of The Young Leaves And The Flowering Trees
Were All The More Vividly Beautiful. The Stream Was Low, And It Hurried
Along Over Its Stony Bed, As If It Too Were Running Away, And In as
Great A Hurry To Be Free Of All Restraints As Truant Baubie Wishart,
Whose Red Frock Was Now Climbing The Hilly Gray Street Beyond.
She Could Hear, As She Strained Herself To Listen For Pursuing Voices,
The Rustle And Murmur Of The Water With An Odd Distinctness As It Rose
Upon The Still Air Of The Summer Morning.
Not A Creature Was To Be Seen As She Made Her Way Eastward, Shaping Her
Course For Princes Street, And Peering, With A Gruesome Fear Of The
School-Board Officer, Round Every Corner. That Early Bird, However, Was
Not So Keenly On The Alert As She Gave Him The Credit Of Being, And She
Reached Her Goal Unchallenged After Coasting Along In Parallel Lines
With It For Some Time.
The Long Beautiful Line Of Princes Street Was Untenanted As The Rob Roy
Tartan Tacked Cautiously Round The Corner Of St. David Street And Took A
Hasty Look Up And Down Before Venturing Forth.
The Far-Reaching Pale Red Beams Of The Morning Sun Had Just Touched And
Kindled As With A Flame The Summit Of The Rock, And The Windows Of The
Castle Caught And Flashed Back The Greeting In a Dozen Ruddy
Reflections. The Gardens Below Lay Partly Veiled In a Clear Transparent
Mist, Faintly Blue, That Hovered Above The Trees And Crept Up The Banks,
And Over Which The Grand Outlines Of The Rock Towered As It Lifted Its
Head Majestically Into The Gold Halo That Lay Beyond.
Volume 26 Title 1 (Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science) Pg 96
Not A Sound Or Stir, Even The Sparrows Were Barely Awake, As Baubie
Darted Along. Fixing Her Eye On That Portion Of The High School Which Is
Visible From Princes Street, She Pushed Along At A Pace That Was Almost
A Run, And A Brief Space Saw Her Draw Up And Fall Exhausted On The Steps
That Lead Up To The Calton Hill.
Right Before Her Was The Jail-Gate.
The Child'S Feet, Unused Now For Some Time To Such Hardships, Were Hot
And Bruised, For She Had Not Stopped To Pick Her Footing In Her Hasty
Course, And She Was So Out Of Breath And Heated That It Seemed To Her As
If She Would Never Get Cool Or Her Heart Cease Fluttering As If It Would
Choke Her. She Shrank Discreetly Against The Stone Wall At Her Side, And
There For Three Long Hours She Remained Crouched, Watching And Waiting
For The Hour To Chime When The Grim Black Gate Opposite Would Open.
The Last Tinge Of Crimson And Purple Had Faded Before The Golden Glories
Of The Day As The Sun Climbed Higher And Higher In The Serene Blue Sky.
The Red Cliffs Of Salisbury Crags Glared With A Hot Lustre Above The
Green Slopes Of The Hill, And In The White Dust Of The High-Road A
Million Tiny Stars Seemed To Sparkle And Twinkle Most Invitingly To
Baubie'S Eyes. The Birds Had Long Been Awake And Busy In The Bushes
Above Her Head, And From Where She Sat She Could See, In The Distant
Glitter Of Princes Street, All The Stir Of The Newly-Raised Day.
It Was A Long Vigil, And Her Fear And Impatience Made It Seem Doubly
Longer. At Last The Clock Began To Chime Eight, And Before It Was Half
Done The Wicket In The Great Door Opened With A Noisy Clang After A
Preliminary Rattle.
First Came A Boy, Who Cast An Anxious Look Round Him, Then Set Off At A
Run; Next A Young Woman, For Whom Another Was Waiting Just Out Of Sight
Down The Road; Last Of All (There Were Only Three Released), Baubie,
Whose Heart Was Beginning To Beat Fast Again With Anxiety, Saw The
Familiar, Well-Known Figure Shamble Forth And Look Up And Down The Road
In A Helpless, Undecided Way. The Next Moment The Wicket Had Clapped To
Again. Wishart Glanced Back At It, Sighed Once Or Twice, And Blinked His
Eyes As Though The Sunlight Were Too Strong For Them.
Baubie, Scarce Breathing, Watched Him As A Cat Watches Just Before She
Springs.
After A Second Of Hesitation He Began To Move Cityward, Obeying Some
Sheep-Like Instinct Which Impelled Him To Follow Those Who Had Gone On
Before. Baubie Saw This, And, Just Waiting To Let Him Get Well Under Way
And Settle Into His Gait, She Gathered Herself Up And Sprang Across The
Road Upon Him With The Suddenness And Rapidity Of A Flash.
He Fairly Staggered With Surprise. There She Was, Exactly As He Had Left
Her, Dusty, Barefooted And Bareheaded. The Wind Had Tossed Up Her Hair,
Which Indeed Was Only Too Obedient To Its Will, And It Clustered All The
More Wildly About Her Face Because Of Having Been Cropped To The
Regulation Length Of The Refuge.
"Lassie, Is'T You?" He Ejaculated, Lost In astonishment. Then, Realizing
Volume 26 Title 1 (Lippincott'S Magazine Of Popular Literature And Science) Pg 97The Fact, He Gave Expression To His Feeling By Grinning In a Convulsive
Kind Of Way And Clapping Her Once Or Twice On The Shoulder Next Him.
"Od! I Niver! Didna The Leddy--"
Baubie Cut Him Short. "Sed I Widna Bide," She Observed Curtly And
Significantly.
Gestures And Looks Convey, Among People Like The Wisharts, Far More
Meaning Than Words, And Baubie'S Father Perfectly Understood From The
Manner And Tone Of Her Pregnant Remark That She Had Run Away From
School, And Had Severed The Connection Between Herself And The "Kind
Leddy," And That In consequence The Situation Was Highly Risky For Both.
They Remained Standing Still For A Moment, Looking At Each Other. The
Boy And The Woman Were Already Out Of Sight, And The White, Dusty
High-Road Seemed All Their Own Domain.
Wishart Shuffled With His Feet Once More, And Looked In The Direction
Of Princes Street, And Then At Baubie Inquiringly. It Was For Her, As
Usual, To Decide. Baubie Had Been His Providence For As Long As He Had
Memory For--No
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