Summary

Portrait of S. R. Crockett S. R. Crockett Red Cap Tales, Stolen from the Treasure Chest of the Wizard of the North

A unanimous sigh greeted the close of Guy Mannering. It was the narrator's reward—the same which the orator hears, when, in a pause of speech, the strained attention relaxes, and the people, slowly bent forward like a field of corn across which the wind blows, settle back into their places.
"A jolly ending—and the cave part was ripping!" summed up Hugh John, nodding his head in grave approval of Sir Walter, "but why can't he always write like that?"
"Couldn't keep it up," suggested Sir Toady Lion; "books can't all be caves, you know."
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of S. R. Crockett S. R. Crockett Red Cap Tales, Stolen from the Treasure Chest of the Wizard of the North

There are thirty yonder that would have shed their lifeblood for you—thirty, from the child of a week to the auld wife of a hundred, that you have made homeless, that you have sent out to sleep with the fox and the blackcock. Our bairns are hanging on our weary backs—look to it that your braw cradle at hame is the fairer spread! Now ride your ways, Godfrey Bertram. These are the last words ye shall ever hear from Meg Merrilies, and this the last staff that I shall ever cut in the bonny woods of Ellangowan!
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of S. R. Crockett S. R. Crockett Red Cap Tales, Stolen from the Treasure Chest of the Wizard of the North

It was some time before Frank could bring himself to tell Diana what her cousin had really hinted concerning herself, and when she heard that he had affirmed her wish to marry him in preference to Thorncliff, she shuddered from head to foot.
"No," she cried, all her soul instantly on fire, "any lot rather than that—the sot, the gambler, the bully, the jockey, the insensate fool were a thousand times preferable to Rashleigh! But the convent, the jail—the grave—shall be welcome before them all!"
Source: Gutenberg

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