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قراءة كتاب Nancy Stair: A Novel

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Nancy Stair: A Novel

Nancy Stair: A Novel

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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Nancy Stair

A NOVEL


By ELINOR MACARTNEY LANE

Author of "Mills of God"

Decoration

A. L. BURT COMPANY, Publishers
NEW YORK

Copyright, 1904, by
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

Published May, 1904


To Frank Brett Noyes
Who accepted, with a kind letter,
The first story I ever wrote,
This tale of
Nancy Stair is dedicated,
As a tribute of affection,
From one old friend to another.


"For woman is not undeveloped man,

But diverse; could we make her as the man,

Sweet Love were slain: his dearest bond is this,

Not like to like, but like in difference."

Tennyson.


"Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears,

Her noblest work she classes, O,

Her 'prentice hand she tried on man,

And then she made the lasses, O."

Robert Burns.


"Ye can't educate women as you can men. They're elemental creatures; and ye can no more change their natures than ye can stop fire from burning."

Hugh Pitcairn.


PREFACE BY LORD STAIR

Two excellent accounts of the beautiful Nancy Stair have already been published; the first by Mrs. George Opie, in the Scots News, giving a detailed account of the work on the burnside, and a more recent one by Professor Erskine, of our own University, which is little more than a critical dissertation upon Nancy as a poet; the heart of the matter with him being to commend her English verses, as well as those in "gude braid Scot."

With these accounts to be secured so easily it may seem presumptuous, as well as superfluous, for me to undertake a third. I state at the outset, therefore, that it is beyond my ambition and my abilities to add a word to stories told so well. Nor do I purpose to mention either the work on the burn or Nancy's song-making, save when necessary for clearness.

For me, however, the life of Nancy Stair has a far deeper significance than that set forth by either of these gifted authors. My knowledge of her was naturally of the most intimate; I watched her grow from a wonderful child into a wonderful woman; and saw her, with a man's education, none but men for friends, and no counselings save from her own heart, solve most wisely for the race the problem put to every woman of gift; and with sweetest reasoning and no bitter renouncings enter the kingdom of great womanhood.

To tell this intimate side of her life with what skill I have is the chief purpose of my writing, but there are two other motives almost as strong. The first of these is to clear away the mystery of the murder which for so long clouded our lives at Stair. To do this there is no man in Scotland to-day so able as myself. It was I who bid the Duke to Stair; the quarrel which brought on the meeting fell directly beneath my eyes; I heard the shots and found the dead upon that fearful night, and afterward went blindfolded through the bitter business of the trial. I was the first, as well, to scent the truth at the bottom of the defense, and have in my possession, as I write, the confession which removed all doubt as to the manner in which the deed was committed.

The second reason is to set clear Nancy's relation to Robert Burns, of which too much has been made, and whose influence upon her and her writings has been grossly exaggerated. Her observation of natural genius in him changed her greatly, and I have tried to set this forth with clearness; but it affected her in a very different manner from that which her two famous biographers have told, and I have it from her own lips that it was because of the Burns episode that she stopped writing altogether.

If it be complained against me that the tale has my own life's story in it, I would answer to the charge that only a great and passionate first love could have produced a child like Nancy, and I believe that the world is ever a bit interested in the line of people whose loves and hates have produced a recognized genius. Then, too, the circumstances attending her birth had more influence on her after life than may at first be seen, giving me as they did such a tenderness for her that I have never been able to cross her in any matter whatever.

Much of the story, of which I was not directly a witness, comes from Nancy herself. I have sent the tale to Alexander Carmichael as well, and in all important matters his recollections accord with mine.

There came to me but yesterday, in this queer old city, a letter from him urging me back to Stair, closed with a stanza that was not born to die:

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to min',

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And the days of Auld Lang Syne?"

They should not, Sandy, and none know it better than we; and I long for a grip of your hand, lad, and to feel the winds blow through the rowans at Stair and the copper birches of Arran; to hear the blackbirds whistle across the gowan-tops; to see the busy burn-folk through the break in the old south wall; and with the ending of these writings my steps are turned toward home.

Rome, 1801.


CONTENTS

CHAPTER   PAGE
I.— At Stair House, near Edinburgh, in 1768 1
II.— I go on a cruise and find a hidden treasure 15
III.— The treasure becomes mine, but is claimed by its owner 29
IV.— Enter Nancy Stair 41
V.— I make the acquaintance of a strange child 53
VI.— Nancy begins her study of the law public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@28366@[email protected]#VI" class="pginternal"

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