Even
if Dick had been a reader of Homer, which is not probable, there were no
trees within convenient reach, and he could not adopt the leafy covering
of Odysseus.
"You sit still; if you move an inch before I give you the word, I'll
leave you where you are!" said Miss Mary. She then cast her plaid over
her face, marched up to the bank where Dick was crouching and shivering,
dropped her ample plaid over him, and sped away towards the farmhouse.
When she had reached its shelter, and was giving an account of the
adventure, Dick set forth, like a primeval Highlander, the covering doing
duty both for plaid and kilt. Clothes of some kind were provided for him
at the cottage, a rickety old boat was fetched, and he and his stag were
rowed across the river to the place where his clothes lay.
That is all, but if one were a dealer in romance, much play might be made
with the future fortunes of the sportsman and the maiden, happy fortunes
or unhappy. In real life, the lassie "drew up with" a shepherd lad, as
Miss Jenny Denison has it, married him, and helped to populate the
strath. As for Dick, history tells no more of his adventures, nor is it
alleged that he ever again visited the distant valley, or beheld the face
of his Highland Nausicaa.
Now, if one were a romancer, this mere anecdote probably would "rest,
lovely pearl, in the brain, and slowly mature in the oyster," till it
became a novel.
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