Laddies dropped from the wall and hunted over Heriot's
Hospital grounds to Lauriston market. Tammy, poignantly conscious
of being of no practical use, sat on Auld Jock's grave, firm in the
conviction that Bobby would return to that spot his ainsel' And
Ailie, being only a maid, whose portion it was to wait and weep,
lay across the window-sill, on the pediment of the tomb, a limp
little figure of woe.
Mr. Traill's heart was full of misgiving. Nothing but death or
stone walls could keep that little creature from this beloved
grave. But, in thinking of stone walls, he never once thought of
the Castle. Away over to the east, in Broughton market, when the
garrison marched away and at Lauriston when they returned, Mr.
Traill did not know that the soldiers had been out of the city.
Busy in the lodge Mistress Jeanie had not seen them go by the
kirkyard, and no one else, except Mr. Brown, knew the fascination
that military uniforms, marching and music had for wee Bobby. A fog
began to drift in from the sea. Suddenly the grass was sheeted and
the tombs blurred. A curtain of gauze seemed to be hung before the
lighted tenements. The Castle head vanished, and the sounds of the
drum and bugle of the tattoo came down muffled, as if through
layers of wool. The lights of the bull's-eyes were ruddy discs that
cast no rays. Then these were smeared out to phosphorescent glows,
like the "spunkies" that everybody in Scotland knew came out to
dance in old kirkyards.
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