Poverty Castle Read Online Free

arriving just then with Rowena and Rebecca.
    â€˜The laird. He owns all the land.’
    â€˜Look at that splendid rowan,’ cried Papa.
    They crowded round the window, looking.
    â€˜Do you mean that tree with the white blossoms?’ asked Effie.
    â€˜That is not just a tree, my dear. That is a symbol.’ He quoted:
    â€˜Thy leaves were aye the first to spring
    Thy flo’ors the simmer’s pride.’
    â€˜Did Sir Walter Scott write that, Papa?’ asked Jeanie.
    The girls had all been called after Scott’s heroines.
    â€˜No, Jeanie, it was written by a lady called Caroline Oliphant or Lady Nairne. A very moving tune goes with it. Mama, please sing us a snatch.’
    â€˜I’m still recovering my breath, darling.’ But after a few more deep breaths she broke into song.
    They loved listening to Mama singing. Sometimes she was out of tune or forgot the words but it never mattered.
    â€˜I know that tune,’ cried Effie. ‘Pipe bands play it.’
    â€˜So they do,’ said Papa. ‘It is one of the best known and best loved of Scottish songs. Some decry it as sentimental but in my opinion it expresses in a simple but moving way the sanctities of family life.’
    They gazed again at the tree, more earnestly this time. Itwas, they agreed, like a gigantic white rosebud and had more than its share of magic that all growing things had, including toadstools.
    â€˜What are sanctities, Papa?’ asked Effie.
    Mama rescued her agnostic husband, not for the first time.
    â€˜Papa will explain later. In the meantime I think we should go down. We are tempting providence by remaining here.’
    â€˜Have no fear, my love,’ said Papa. ‘The rowan will protect us.’
    â€˜How will it do that?’ asked Effie.
    â€˜In the old days people planted a rowan near their home, to keep evil spirits away.’
    â€˜That’s superstition,’ said Diana.
    â€˜It didn’t stop the house from becoming a ruin,’ said Jeanie.
    â€˜It is not yet a ruin. Restoring it would be costly but quite practicable. Perhaps we were sent here for that purpose.’
    â€˜Are you going to buy it, Papa?’ asked Diana.
    â€˜It may not be for sale.’
    â€˜Aren’t we going to live in Spain?’ asked Rowena.
    A friend of Papa’s had offered to sell him a villa in the province of Alicante, beside the sea. Papa had pointed out the advantages: sunshine all the year round, which would help Mama’s arthritic little finger; cheap wine and fruit; miles of sand and a warm sea; orange and almond groves; a swimming pool in the garden.
    The girls had been learning Spanish.
    â€˜Que hora est?’ asked Jeanie.
    â€˜Uno, dos, tres,’ sang Effie.
    â€˜Olé,’ piped Rebecca.
    Papa clapped his hands. ‘Muy bien. It does seem a pity to throw away such accomplishments.’
    Mama was not keen on their exiling themselves. ‘Do you really think, Edward, that this house could be restored?’
    â€˜Indeed I do. It would be a challenge but it could be done.’
    â€˜It would make a beautiful home. Don’t you think so, girls?’
    â€˜Too many stairs,’ said Diana.
    â€˜That doesn’t matter,’ cried Effie. ‘None of us is fat or stiff or old.’
    â€˜Granny Ruthven’s old,’ said Rowena.
    Mama’s mother was nearly eighty.
    â€˜She could climb a mountain if she wanted to,’ said Effie. ‘Couldn’t she, Mama?’
    â€˜Indeed she could.’
    â€˜Carrying her handbag,’ said Papa.
    They all loved him for saying it. It showed how kind and forgiving he was. Granny Ruthven often made fun of him, rather cruelly. She called him fushionless. Her handbag was a family joke. It weighed a ton, they said.
    â€˜Why don’t we go and make enquiries?’ cried Mama.
    â€˜Ask the laird, do you mean, Mama?’ asked Diana.
    Mama laughed. ‘I was thinking of asking the