A Daughter of Heth by William Black

THE ROSEBUD.

When the ladies had gone from the room, and the men had settled down to port-wine and after-dinner talk, the Whaup sat by himself, silent and gloomy. A glass of claret remained on the table before him untasted. He stared at it as if it were some distant object; and the hum of the voices around him sounded like the murmur of the wind, as he had listened to it at night up on Airlie moor.