Gilian The Dreamer: His Fancy, His Love and Adventure. Munro Neil

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       Neil Munro

      Gilian The Dreamer: His Fancy, His Love and Adventure

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4057664598691

Table of Contents

       GILIAN THE DREAMER

       PART I

       CHAPTER I—WHEN THE GEAN-TREE BLOSSOMED

       CHAPTER II—THE PENSIONERS

       CHAPTER III—THE FUNERAL

       CHAPTER IV—MISS MARY

       CHAPTER V—THE BROTHERS

       CHAPTER VI—COURT-MARTIAL

       CHAPTER VII—THE MAN ON THE QUAY

       CHAPTER VIII—THE SHERIFF’S SUPPER PARTY

       CHAPTER IX—ACADEMIA

       CHAPTER X—ON HIS MAJESTY’S SERVICE

       CHAPTER XI—THE SOUND OF THE DRUM

       CHAPTER XII—ILLUSION

       CHAPTER XIII—A GHOST

       CHAPTER XIV—THE CORNAL’S LOVE STORY

       CHAPTER XV—ON BOARD THE “JEAN”

       CHAPTER XVI—THE DESPERATE BATTLE

       CHAPTER XVII—THE STORM

       CHAPTER XVIII—DISCOVERY

       CHAPTER XIX—LIGHTS OUT!

       PART II

       CHAPTER XX—THE RETURN

       CHAPTER XXI—THE SORROWFUL SEASON

       CHAPTER XXII—IN CHURCH

       CHAPTER XXIII—YOUNG ISLAY

       CHAPTER XXIV—MAAM HOUSE

       CHAPTER XXV—THE EAVESDROPPER

       CHAPTER XXVI—AGAIN IN THE GARDEN

       CHAPTER XXVII—ALARM

       CHAPTER XXVIII—GILIAN’S OPPORTUNITY

       CHAPTER XXIX—THE ELOPEMENT

       CHAPTER XXX—AMONG THE HEATHER

       CHAPTER XXXI—DEFIANCE

       CHAPTER XXXII—AN OLD MAID’S SECRET

       CHAPTER XXXIII—THE PROMISE

       CHAPTER XXXIV—CHASE

       CHAPTER XXXV—AN EMPTY HUT

       CHAPTER XXXVI—CONCLUSION

GILIAN THE DREAMER

       Table of Contents

PART I

       Table of Contents

CHAPTER I—WHEN THE GEAN-TREE BLOSSOMED

       Table of Contents

      Rain was beating on the open leaf of plane and beech, and rapping at the black doors of the ash-bud, and the scent of the gean-tree flourish hung round the road by the river, vague, sweet, haunting, like a recollection of the magic and forgotten gardens of youth. Over the high and numerous hills, mountains of deer and antique forest, went the mist, a slattern, trailing a ragged gown. The river sucked below the banks and clamoured on the cascades, drawn unwillingly to the sea, the old gluttonous sea that must ever be robbing the glens of their gathered waters. And the birds were at their loving, or the building of their homes, flying among the bushes, trolling upon the bough. One with an eye, as the saying goes, could scarcely pass among this travail of the new year without some pleasure in the spectacle, though the rain might drench him to the skin. He could not but joy in the thrusting crook of the fern and bracken; what sort of heart was his if it did not lift and swell to see the new fresh green blown upon the grey parks, to see the hedges burst, the young firs of the Blaranbui prick