Grant.—You were certainly guilty of no great exaggeration when you said that a deer could hardly have penetrated3 it whilst it was standing4 in all its gloomy grandeur5.
Clifford.—It is well for our comfort that we can now pass so easily over its fallen majesty6; and methinks the sooner we escape from so dreary7 a scene the better.
Author.—Let us keep more this way, then. A short walk will now bring us to the southern brow of the hill, whence a new scene will open on us.
Clifford, who first reaches the point.—Ha! what have we here? A dark lake,—its waves rolling sluggishly8 eastward9, and breaking gently on a narrow stripe of yellow gravelly beach,—bare rocky hills without a tree,—and an island covered with the ruins of a very extensive castle. What do you call this wild and lonely scene?
Author.—That is Loch-an-Dorbe, with its ruined castle.
Author.—They are said to occupy a space of not less than an hundred yards square.
Clifford.—This, then, is the very castle whence your Danish prince escaped with his lady-love. Let me tell you, that if their grey steed had not gone with a somewhat freer pace than your verses do, the old king of the castle would have caught them ere they had covered half the way to Dulsie.
Grant.—I’ll warrant me those huge round towers and massive curtains have many strange and eventful histories attached to them.
Clifford.—Come, Signore Cicerone, prelect to us about it, if you please. [74]
Author.—Loch-an-Dorbe was one of the few royal or national fortresses11 which Scotland possessed12. When Edward the First traversed this country with his army in 1303, he came to Loch-an-Dorbe in the month of September, and occupied it for some time; and Edward the Third considered it as a place of so much importance, that he and Edward Baliol marched all the way from Perth to its relief in August, 1336, when Catherine de Beaumont, widow of David de Hastings, Earl of Athol, and her son were besieged13 in it by the brave Sir Andrew Moray, then Governor of Scotland. Sir Andrew would have been overwhelmed by the superior force of the English monarch14, had he not baffled pursuit by crossing the river Findhorn at the celebrated15 pass, the Brig of Randolph, so called, as you know, from Randolph, Earl of Moray, Regent of Scotland. Another important historical fact is connected with this castle. It was here that William Bullock was confined. After abandoning the cause of Baliol, and after having risen to high honours under David the Second, he was enviously16 and maliciously17 accused of treason; and having been thrown into one of the dungeons18 within these massive walls, he was cruelly allowed to perish of cold and hunger. We also know that the famous Alexander Stewart, son of King Robert the Second, and who, from his ferocious19 disposition20, was surnamed the Wolf of Badenoch, possessed and inhabited this castle. It was from hence he is supposed to have issued when he made his famous descent into the low country of Moray, and fired the Cathedral of Elgin, reducing that magnificent structure, that speculum patri? et decus regni, as it was called, and many other religious edifices21 in the town, to a heap of ruins.
Clifford.—Oh, you have told us enough, in all conscience, about that wild beast; “adesso parliamo d’altro.”
Author.—I am at a stand, so far as the history of Loch-an-Dorbe is concerned, excepting that I may add, that in more recent times it was possessed by the Earls of Moray, and passed from their hands into those of the Campbells of Cawdor, and thence to the Grants of Grant. I have seen at Cawdor Castle a massive iron gate, believed to have been that of the Castle of Loch-an-Dorbe, which tradition says was carried off from thence by Sir Donald Campbell of Cawdor, who bore it on his back all the way [75]across the moors22 till he set it down where it is now in use, the distance being not less than some twelve or fifteen miles. But this is a story much too marvellous for belief in these matter-of-fact days of ours.
Clifford.—It is incredible enough, to be sure. Yet I have a story, a well authenticated23 story too, which I think will almost match it.
Grant.—Out with it then.
Clifford.—No, I promise you you don’t get my stories at so very easy a rate; and for this simple reason, that they are by no means so plenty as yours. Besides, I have just been thinking that with this warm breeze, that so gently ripples24 the surface of the lake, I could kill a handsome dish of trouts this afternoon, if trouts there be within its watery25 world. Why might we not loiter off the remainder of the day about this lake?
Grant.—I like the idea much. I perceive a nice looking cottage on the other side, where I dare to say we may find lodging26 for the night.
Author.—That cottage is a shooting-lodge27 belonging to the proprietor28; and were he there in person, we should not lack a kind and hospitable29 reception. But at present its doors are locked, and its rooms void.
Clifford.—There is a house, then, here on the nearer shore, immediately below us; why should we not go there?
Author.—’Tis but a smoky uncomfortable place; but it may do well enough for a shelter for one night, and if you are content to abide30 there, so am I.
Clifford.—Pho! as to comfort, I am a soldier, and can rough it. I have lain out all night to kill the enemies of my country, and would do no less at any time for a good day’s shooting or fishing.
Author, addressing gilly, who was leading a pony31 with panniers,—Go down thither32, then, and see our quarters made as comfortable as may be.
Clifford.—Aye, that will do. Come along, let us to work without more hesitation33 or talk. I am all impatience34.
Having sent round to borrow the proprietor’s boat, we embarked35 on the lake, and were soon intensely occupied in all the exciting anxieties of the angle. Our success was various and unequal, like that of man in the great lottery36 of human life. It was not always when basking37 in the sunshine that we were most successful. Sometimes [76]a warm shadow would cross the lake, and the trouts would rise and hook themselves three at a time on our lines. The bottom of the boat became alive, and shone and glittered with the growing numbers of our golden and silver captives. Anon, every cast we made was in vain; and then, when the foolish fish began again to bite, our eagerness was such, that we forgot each other’s lines; and the loss of hooks, the destruction of the finer parts of our tackle, and the fracture of delicate top pieces, became the result of our numerous and grievous entanglements38. Poor Clifford could not account for a sudden cessation of his luck at the very time that ours appeared to be doubled, and he went on in no very good humour, flogging the water unsuccessfully, whilst Grant and I were catching39 two and three at each cast; till at last, to his great chagrin40, he found that he had been all the while fishing without flies, which were uselessly and most provokingly sticking in the rough coat and around the neck and head of my great Newfoundland dog Bronte, to the poor brute’s great inconvenience. He did not fail to make up very quickly for this bad luck, however. Our evening was altogether most delightfully41 spent; for when we grew tired of the angle, we landed on the island, and wandered among the extensive ruins which cover it. We then sat on the mouldering42 walls of the castle till we saw the sun sink behind the western hill; after which we returned to the shore, and sought our place of retreat.
It was a small old-fashioned house, once used as a sort of hunting lodge. It consisted of two stories, with little else than one ruinous room in each, the whole being filled with the great smoke that arose from the kitchen fire. But the exercise we had had, added to our hunger, prepared us for being pleased with any accommodation; and after a supper well eked43 out by a fritto of the delicious trouts we had taken, we drew our stools around the fire, to enjoy a temperate44 cup of pure Highland45 whisky, diluted46 with water from a neighbouring spring.
Grant.—Now for your story, Clifford.
Clifford.—’Tis of a famous Highlander47, called John Mackay, of Ross-shire. I got the narrative48, with all its nationalities, from an old Scottish brother officer of mine, a certain major of the name of Macmillan, who knew the hero of it well. [77]
Grant.—I should have hardly looked for such a story from a Sassenach like you.
Clifford.—Tut. You know very well that my mother was a Highlandwoman, and that I have moreover always had a strong feeling for Scotland, and especially for the Highlands, as well as for everything connected with these romantic regions, where, let me tell you, I have had some wanderings as well as you.
Author.—We admit your right to tell your story. So now, come away with it without further preface.
Clifford.—If I tell you anything, I must very nearly tell you all honest John’s life. Have you patience for so long a narrative?
Grant.—We shall give you the full duration of the burning of these moss-fir faggots. Will that serve you?
Clifford.—I think my story will have expired before them. And by that time we shall all be nearly ready for our blankets and heather; for such, I presume, will be our fate to-night.
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1
stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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4
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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5
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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7
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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sluggishly
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| adv.懒惰地；缓慢地 | |
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9
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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10
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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11
fortresses
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| 堡垒，要塞( fortress的名词复数 ) | |
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12
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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13
besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14
monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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15
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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enviously
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| adv.满怀嫉妒地 | |
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maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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18
dungeons
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| n.地牢( dungeon的名词复数 ) | |
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19
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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20
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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edifices
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| n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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22
moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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23
authenticated
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| v.证明是真实的、可靠的或有效的( authenticate的过去式和过去分词 )；鉴定，使生效 | |
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24
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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25
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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26
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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28
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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29
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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30
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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32
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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33
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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35
embarked
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| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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36
lottery
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| n.抽彩；碰运气的事，难于算计的事 | |
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37
basking
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的现在分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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38
entanglements
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| n.瓜葛( entanglement的名词复数 )；牵连；纠缠；缠住 | |
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39
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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40
chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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41
delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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42
mouldering
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| v.腐朽( moulder的现在分词 )；腐烂，崩塌 | |
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43
eked
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| v.（靠节省用量）使…的供应持久( eke的过去式和过去分词 )；节约使用；竭力维持生计；勉强度日 | |
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44
temperate
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| adj.温和的，温带的，自我克制的，不过分的 | |
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45
highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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46
diluted
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| 无力的，冲淡的 | |
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47
highlander
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| n.高地的人，苏格兰高地地区的人 | |
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48
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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