CHAPTER XX

I CONTINUE TO MOVE IN GOOD SOCIETY

For about exactly two months I remained a guest in Prestongrange's

family, where I bettered my acquaintance with the Bench, the Bar, and

the flower of Edinburgh company. You are not to suppose my education was

neglected; on the contrary, I was kept extremely busy. I studied the

French, so as to be more prepared to go to Leyden; I set myself to the

fencing, and wrought hard, sometimes three hours in the day, with

notable advancement; at the suggestion of my cousin Pilrig, who was an

apt musician, I was put to a singing-class; and by the orders of my Miss

Grant, to one for the dancing, at which I must say I proved far from

ornamental. However, all were good enough to say it gave me an address a

little more genteel; and there is no question but I learned to manage my

coat-skirts and sword with more dexterity, and to stand in a room as

though the same belonged to me. My clothes themselves were all earnestly

re-ordered; and the most trifling circumstance, such as where I should

tie my hair, or the colour of my ribbon, debated among the three misses

like a thing of weight. One way with another, no doubt I was a good deal

improved to look at, and acquired a bit of a modish air that would have

surprised the good folks at Essendean.

The two younger misses were very willing to discuss a point of my

habiliment, because that was in the line of their chief thoughts. I

cannot say that they appeared any other way conscious of my presence;

and though always more than civil, with a kind of heartless cordiality,

could not hide how much I wearied them. As for the aunt, she was a

wonderful still woman; and I think she gave me much the same attention

as she gave the rest of the family, which was little enough. The eldest

daughter and the Advocate himself were thus my principal friends, and

our familiarity was much increased by a pleasure that we took in common.

Before the court met we spent a day or two at the house of Grange,

living very nobly with an open table, and here it was that we three

began to ride out together in the fields, a practice afterwards

maintained in Edinburgh, so far as the Advocate's continual affairs

permitted. When we were put in a good frame by the briskness of the

exercise, the difficulties of the way, or the accidents of bad weather,

my shyness wore entirely off; we forgot that we were strangers, and

speech not being required, it flowed the more naturally on. Then it was

that they had my story from me, bit by bit, from the time that I left

Essendean, with my voyage and battle in the _Covenant_, wanderings in

the heather, etc.; and from the interest they found in my adventures

sprung the circumstance of a jaunt we made a little later on, on a day

when the courts were not sitting, and of which I will tell a trifle more

at length.

We took horse early, and passed first by the house of Shaws, where it

stood smokeless in a great field of white frost, for it was yet early in

the day. Here Prestongrange alighted down, gave me his horse, and

proceeded alone to visit my uncle. My heart, I remember, swelled up

bitter within me at the sight of that bare house and the thought of the

old miser sitting chittering within in the cold kitchen.

"There is my home," said I; "and my family."

"Poor David Balfour!" said Miss Grant.

What passed during the visit I have never heard; but it would doubtless

not be very agreeable to Ebenezer, for when the Advocate came forth

again his face was dark.

"I think you will soon be the laird indeed, Mr. Davie," says he, turning

half about with the one foot in the stirrup.

"I will never pretend sorrow," said I; and, to say the truth, during his

absence Miss Grant and I had been embellishing the place in fancy with

plantations, parterres, and a terrace--much as I have since carried out

in fact.

Thence we pushed to the Queen's Ferry, where Rankeillor gave us a good

welcome, being indeed out of the body to receive so great a visitor.

Here the Advocate was so unaffectedly good as to go quite fully over my

affairs, sitting perhaps two hours with the Writer in his study, and

expressing (I was told) a great esteem for myself and concern for my

fortunes. To while this time, Miss Grant and I and young Rankeillor took

boat and passed the Hope to Limekilns. Rankeillor made himself very

ridiculous (and, I thought, offensive) with his admiration for the young

lady, and to my wonder (only it is so common a weakness of her sex) she

seemed, if anything, to be a little gratified. One use it had: for when

we were come to the other side, she laid her commands on him to mind the

boat, while she and I passed a little farther to the alehouse. This was

her own thought, for she had been taken with my account of Alison

Hastie, and desired to see the lass herself. We found her once more

alone--indeed, I believe her father wrought all day in the fields--and

she curtsied dutifully to the gentry-folk and the beautiful young lady

in the riding-coat.

"Is this all the welcome I am to get?" said I, holding out my hand. "And

have you no more memory of old friends?"

"Keep me! wha's this of it?" she cried, and then, "God's truth, it's the

tautit[19] laddie!"

"The very same," says I.

"Mony's the time I've thocht upon you and your freen, and blithe am I to

see you in your braws,"[20] she cried; "though I kennt ye were come to

your ain folk by the grand present that ye sent me, and that I thank ye

for with a' my heart."

"There," said Miss Grant to me, "run out by with ye, like a good bairn,

I didna come here to stand and baud a candle; it's her and me that are

to crack."

I suppose she stayed ten minutes in the house, but when she came forth

I observed two things--that her eyes were reddened, and a silver brooch

was gone out of her bosom. This very much affected me.

"I never saw you so well adorned," said I.

"O, Davie man, dinna be a pompous gowk!" said she, and was more than

usually sharp to me the remainder of the day.

About candlelight we came home from this excursion.

For a good while I heard nothing further of Catriona--my Miss Grant

remaining quite impenetrable, and stopping my mouth with pleasantries.

At last, one day that she returned from walking, and found me alone in

the parlour over my French, I thought there was something unusual in her

looks; the colour heightened, the eyes sparkling high, and a bit of a

smile continually bitten in as she regarded me. She seemed indeed like

the very spirit of mischief, and, walking briskly in the room, had soon

involved me in a kind of quarrel over nothing and (at the least) with

nothing intended on my side. I was like Christian in the slough--the

more I tried to clamber out upon the side, the deeper I became involved;

until at last I heard her declare, with a great deal of passion, that

she would take that answer at the hands of none, and I must down upon my

knees for pardon.

The causelessness of all this fuff stirred my own bile. "I have said

nothing you can properly object to," said I, "and as for my knees, that

is an attitude I keep for God."

"And as a goddess I am to be served!" she cried, shaking her brown locks

at me and with a bright colour. "Every man that comes within waft of my

petticoats shall use me so!"

"I will go so far as ask your pardon for the fashion's sake, although I

vow I know not why," I replied. "But for these play-acting postures, you

can go to others."

"O Davie!" she said. "Not if I was to beg you?"

I bethought me I was fighting with a woman, which is the same as to say

a child, and that upon a point entirely formal.

"I think it a bairnly thing," I said, "not worthy in you to ask, or me

to render. Yet I will not refuse you, neither," said I; "and the stain,

if there be any, rests with yourself." And at that I kneeled fairly

down.

"There!" she cried. "There is the proper station, there is where I have

been manoeuvring to bring you." And then, suddenly, "Kep,"[21] said she,

flung me a folded billet, and ran from the apartment laughing.

The billet had neither place nor date. "Dear Mr. David," it began, "I

get your news continually by my cousin, Miss Grant, and it is a pleisand

hearing. I am very well, in a good place, among good folk, but

necessitated to be quite private, though I am hoping that at long last

we may meet again. All your friendships have been told me by my loving

cousin, who loves us both. She bids me to send you this writing, and

oversees the same. I will be asking you to do all her commands, and rest

your affectionate friend, Catriona Macgregor-Drummond. _P.S._--Will you

not see my cousin, Allardyce?"

I think it not the least brave of my campaigns (as the soldiers say)

that I should have done as I was here bidden and gone forthright to the

house by Dean. But the old lady was now entirely changed, and supple as

a glove. By what means Miss Grant had brought this round I could never

guess; I am sure, at least, she dared not to appear openly in the

affair, for her papa was compromised in it pretty deep. It was he,

indeed, who had persuaded Catriona to leave, or rather, not to return

to, her cousin's, placing her instead with a family of Gregorys--decent

people, quite at the Advocate's disposition, and in whom she might have

the more confidence because they were of her own clan and family. These

kept her private till all was ripe, heated and helped her to attempt her

father's rescue, and after she was discharged from prison received her

again into the same secrecy. Thus Prestongrange obtained and used his

instrument; nor did there leak out the smallest word of his acquaintance

with the daughter of James More. There was some whispering, of course,

upon the escape of that discredited person; but the Government replied

by a show of rigour, one of the cell-porters was flogged, the lieutenant

of the guard (my poor friend, Duncansby) was broken of his rank, and as

for Catriona, all men were well enough pleased that her fault should be

passed by in silence.

I could never induce Miss Grant to carry back an answer. "No," she would

say, when I persisted, "I am going to keep the big feet out of the

platter." This was the more hard to bear, as I was aware she saw my

little friend many times in the week, and carried her my news whenever

(as she said) I "had behaved myself." At last she treated me to what she

called an indulgence, and I thought rather more of a banter. She was

certainly a strong, almost a violent, friend to all she liked, chief

among whom was a certain frail old gentlewoman, very blind and very

witty, who dwelt in the top of a tall land on a strait close, with a

nest of linnets in a cage, and thronged all day with visitors. Miss

Grant was very fond to carry me there and put me to entertain her friend

with the narrative of my misfortunes; and Miss Tibbie Ramsay (that was

her name) was particular kind, and told me a great deal that was worth

knowledge of old folks and past affairs in Scotland. I should say that

from her chamber-window, and not three feet away, such is the straitness

of that close, it was possible to look into a barred loophole lighting

the stairway of the opposite house.

Here, upon some pretext, Miss Grant left me one day alone with Miss

Ramsay. I mind I thought that lady inattentive and like one

pre-occupied. It was besides very uncomfortable, for the window,

contrary to custom, was left open, and the day was cold. All at once the

voice of Miss Grant sounded in my ears as from a distance.

"Here, Shaws!" she cried, "keek out of the window and see what I have

broughten you."

I think it was the prettiest sight that ever I beheld. The well of the

close was all in clear shadow where a man could see distinctly, the

walls very black and dingy; and there from the barred loophole I saw two

faces smiling across at me--Miss Grant's and Catriona's.

"There!" says Miss Grant, "I wanted her to see you in your braws, like

the lass of Limekilns. I wanted her to see what I could make of you,

when I buckled to the job in earnest!"

It came in my mind she had been more than common particular that day

upon my dress: and I think that some of the same care had been bestowed

upon Catriona. For so merry and sensible a lady, Miss Grant was

certainly wonderful taken up with duds.

"Catriona!" was all I could get out.

As for her, she said nothing in the world, but only waved her hand and

smiled to me, and was suddenly carried away again from before the

loophole.

That vision was no sooner lost than I ran to the house-door, where I

found I was locked in; thence back to Miss Ramsay, crying for the key,

but might as well have cried upon the Castle rock. She had passed her

word, she said, and I must be a good lad. It was impossible to burst the

door, even if it had been mannerly; it was impossible I should leap from

the window, being seven stories above ground. All I could do was to

crane over the close and watch for their reappearance from the stair. It

was little to see, being no more than the tops of their two heads, each

on a ridiculous bobbin of skirts, like to a pair of pincushions. Nor did

Catriona so much as look up for a farewell; being prevented (as I heard

afterwards) by Miss Grant, who told her folk were never seen to less

advantage than from above downward.

On the way home, as soon as I was free, I upbraided Miss Grant for her

cruelty.

"I am sorry you was disappointed," says she demurely. "For my part I was

very pleased. You looked better than I dreaded; you looked--if it will

not make you vain--a mighty pretty young man when you appeared in the

window. You are to remember that she could not see your feet," says she,

with the manner of one reassuring me.

"O!" cried I, "leave my feet be--they are no bigger than my

neighbours'."

"They are even smaller than some," said she, "but I speak in parables,

like a Hebrew prophet."

"I marvel little they were sometimes stoned!" says I. "But, you

miserable girl, how could you do it? Why should you care to tantalise me

with a moment?"

"Love is like folk," says she; "it needs some kind of vivers."[22]

"O, Barbara, let me see her properly!" I pleaded. "You can--you see her

when you please; let me have half an hour."

"Who is it that is managing this love-affair? You? Or me?" she asked,

and, as I continued to press her with my instances, fell back upon a

deadly expedient: that of imitating the tones of my voice when I called

on Catriona by name; with which, indeed, she held me in subjection for

some days to follow.

There was never the least word heard of the memorial, or none by me.

Prestongrange and his Grace the Lord President may have heard of it (for

what I know) on the deafest sides of their heads; they kept it to

themselves at least--the public was none the wiser; and in course of

time, on November 8th, and in the midst of a prodigious storm of wind

and rain, poor James of the Glens was duly hanged at Lettermore by

Balachulish.

So there was the final upshot of my politics! Innocent men have perished

before James, and are like to keep on perishing (in spite of all our

wisdom) till the end of time. And till the end of time young folk (who

are not yet used with the duplicity of life and men) will struggle as I

did, and make heroical resolves, and take long risks; and the course of

events will push them upon the one side and go on like a marching army.

James was hanged; and here was I, dwelling in the house of

Prestongrange, and grateful to him for his fatherly attention. He was

hanged; and behold! when I met Mr. Simon in the causeway, I was fain to

pull off my beaver to him like a good little boy before his dominie. He

had been hanged by fraud and violence, and the world wagged along, and

there was not a pennyweight of difference; and the villains of that

horrid plot were decent, kind, respectable fathers of families, who went

to kirk and took the sacrament!

But I had had my view of that detestable business they call politics--I

had seen it from behind, when it is all bones and blackness; and I was

cured for life of any temptations to take part in it again. A plain,

quiet, private path was that which I was ambitious to walk in, where I

might keep my head out of the way of dangers and my conscience out of

the road of temptation. For, upon a retrospect, it appeared I had not

done so grandly, after all; but, with the greatest possible amount of

big speech and preparation, had accomplished nothing.

The 25th of the same month a ship was advertised to sail from Leith; and

I was suddenly recommended to make up my mails for Leyden. To

Prestongrange I could, of course, say nothing; for I had already been a

long while sorning on his house and table. But with his daughter I was

more open, bewailing my fate that I should be sent out of the country,

and assuring her, unless she should bring me to farewell with Catriona,

I would refuse at the last hour.

"Have I not given you my advice?" she asked.

"I know you have," said I, "and I know how much I am beholden to you

already, and that I am bidden to obey your orders. But you must confess

you are something too merry a lass at times to lippen to[23] entirely."

"I will tell you, then," said she. "Be you on board by nine o'clock

forenoon; the ship does not sail before one; keep your boat alongside;

and if you are not pleased with my farewells when I shall send them, you

can come ashore again and seek Katrine for yourself."

Since I could make no more of her, I was fain to be content with this.

The day came round at last when she and I were to separate. We had been

extremely intimate and familiar; I was much in her debt; and what way we

were to part was a thing that put me from my sleep, like the vails I was

to give to the domestic servants. I knew she considered me too backward,

and rather desired to rise in her opinion on that head. Besides which,

after so much affection shown and (I believe) felt upon both sides, it

would have looked cold-like to be anyways stiff. Accordingly, I got my

courage up and my words ready, and the last chance we were like to be

alone, asked pretty boldly to be allowed to salute her in farewell.

"You forget yourself strangely, Mr. Balfour," said she. "I cannot call

to mind that I have given you any right to presume on our acquaintancy."

I stood before her like a stopped clock, and knew not what to think, far

less to say, when of a sudden she cast her arms about my neck and kissed

me with the best will in the world.

"You inimitable bairn!" she cried. "Did you think that I would let us

part like strangers? Because I can never keep my gravity at you five

minutes on end, you must not dream I do not love you very well: I am all

love and laughter, every time I cast an eye on you! And now I will give

you an advice to conclude your education, which you will have need of

before it's very long. Never _ask_ women-folk. They are bound to answer

'No'; God never made the lass that could resist the temptation. It's

supposed by divines to be the curse of Eve: because she did not say it

when the devil offered her the apple, her daughters can say nothing

else."

"Since I am so soon to lose my bonny professor," I began.

"This is gallant, indeed," says she, curtsying.

"--I would put the one question," I went on: "May I ask a lass to marry

me?"

"You think you could not marry her without?" she asked. "Or else get her

to offer?"

"You see you cannot be serious," said I.

"I shall be very serious in one thing, David," said she: "I shall always

be your friend."

As I got to my horse the next morning, the four ladies were all at the

same window whence we had once looked down on Catriona, and all cried

farewell and waved their pocket-napkins as I rode away. One out of the

four I knew was truly sorry; and at the thought of that, and how I had

come to the door three months ago for the first time, sorrow and

gratitude made a confusion in my mind.

FOOTNOTES:

[19] Ragged.

[20] Fine things.

[21] Catch.

[22] Victuals.

[23] Trust.

PART II

FATHER AND DAUGHTER

CHAPTER XXI

THE VOYAGE INTO HOLLAND

The ship lay at a single anchor, well outside the pier of Leith, so that

all we passengers must come to it by the means of skiffs. This was very

little troublesome, for the reason that the day was a flat calm, very

frosty and cloudy, and with a low shifting fog upon the water. The body

of the vessel was thus quite hid as I drew near, but the tall spars of

her stood high and bright in a sunshine like the flickering of a fire.

She proved to be a very roomy, commodious merchant, but somewhat blunt

in the bows, and loaden extraordinary deep with salt, salted salmon, and

fine white linen stockings for the Dutch. Upon my coming on board, the

captain welcomed me--one Sang (out of Lesmahago, I believe), a very

hearty, friendly tarpaulin of a man, but at the moment in rather of a

bustle. There had no other of the passengers yet appeared, so that I was

left to walk about upon the deck, viewing the prospect and wondering a

good deal what these farewells should be which I was promised.

All Edinburgh and the Pentland Hills glinted above me in a kind of

smuisty brightness, now and again overcome with blots of cloud; of Leith

there was no more than the tops of chimneys visible, and on the face of

the water, where the haar[24] lay, nothing at all. Out of this I was

presently aware of a sound of oars pulling, and a little after (as if

out of the smoke of a fire) a boat issued. There sat a grave man in the

stern-sheets, well muffled from the cold, and by his side a tall,

pretty, tender figure of a maid that brought my heart to a stand. I had

scarce the time to catch my breath in, and be ready to meet her, as she

stepped upon the deck, smiling, and making my best bow, which was now

vastly finer than some months before, when first I made it to her

ladyship. No doubt we were both a good deal changed: she seemed to have

shot up taller, like a young, comely tree. She had now a kind of pretty

backwardness that became her well, as of one that regarded herself more

highly, and was fairly woman; and for another thing, the hand of the

same magician had been at work upon the pair of us, and Miss Grant had

made us both _braw_, if she could make but the one _bonny_.

The same cry, in words not very different, came from both of us, that

the other was come in compliment to say farewell, and then we perceived

in a flash we were to ship together.

"O, why will not Baby have been telling me!" she cried; and then

remembered a letter she had been given, on the condition of not opening

it till she was well on board. Within was an enclosure for myself, and

ran thus:--

"DEAR DAVIE,--What do you think of my farewell? and what do you say to

your fellow-passenger? Did you kiss, or did you ask? I was about to

have signed here, but that would leave the purport of my question

doubtful; and in my own case _I ken the answer_. So fill up here with

good advice. Do not be too blate,[25] and for God's sake do not try to

be too forward; nothing sets you worse.--I am

"Your affectionate friend and governess,

"BARBARA GRANT."

I wrote a word of answer and compliment on a leaf out of my pocket-book,

put it in with another scratch from Catriona, sealed the whole with my

new signet of the Balfour arms, and despatched it by the hand of

Prestongrange's servant, that still waited in my boat.

Then we had time to look upon each other more at leisure, which we had

not done for a piece of a minute before (upon a common impulse) we shook

hands again.

"Catriona!" said I. It seemed that was the first and last word of my

eloquence.

"You will be glad to see me again?" says she.

"And I think that is an idle word," said I. "We are too deep friends to

make speech upon such trifles."

"Is she not the girl of all the world?" she cried again. "I was never

knowing such a girl, so honest and so beautiful."

"And yet she cared no more for Alpin than what she did for a

kale-stock," said I.

"Ah, she will say so indeed!" cries Catriona. "Yet it was for the name

and the gentle kind blood that she took me up and was so good to me."

"Well, I will tell you why it was," said I. "There are all sorts of

people's faces in this world. There is Barbara's face, that every one

must look at and admire, and think her a fine, brave, merry girl. And

then there is your face, which is quite different--I never knew how

different till to-day. You cannot see yourself, and that is why you do

not understand but it was for the love of your face that she took you up

and was so good to you. And everybody in the world would do the same."

"Everybody?" says she.

"Every living soul!" said I.

"Ah, then, that will be why the soldiers at the Castle took me up!" she

cried.

"Barbara has been teaching you to catch me," said I.

"She will have taught me more than that, at all events. She will have

taught me a great deal about Mr. David---all the ill of him, and a

little that was not so ill either, now and then," she said, smiling.

"She will have told me all there was of Mr. David, only just that he

would sail upon this very same ship. And why it is you go?"

I told her.

"Ah, well," said she, "we will be some days in company, and then (I

suppose) good-bye for altogether! I go to meet my father at a place of

the name of Helvoetsluys, and from there to France, to be exiles by the

side of our chieftain."

I could say no more than just "O!" the name of James More always drying

up my very voice.

She was quick to perceive it, and to guess some portion of my thought.

"There is one thing I must be saying first of all, Mr. David," said she.

"I think two of my kinsfolk have not behaved to you altogether very

well. And the one of them two is James More, my father, and the other is

the Laird of Prestongrange. Prestongrange will have spoken by himself,

or his daughter in the place of him. But for James More, my father, I

have this much to say: he lay shackled in a prison; he is a plain honest

soldier and a plain Highland gentleman; what they would be after he

would never be guessing; but if he had understood it was to be some

prejudice to a young gentleman like yourself, he would have died first.

And for the sake of all your friendships, I will be asking you to pardon

my father and family for that same mistake."

"Catriona," said I, "what that mistake was I do not care to know. I know

but the one thing--that you went to Prestongrange and begged my life

upon your knees. O, I ken well it was for your father that you went, but

when you were there you pleaded for me also. It is a thing I cannot

speak of. There are two things I cannot think of in to myself: and the

one is your good words when you called yourself my little friend, and

the other that you pleaded for my life. Let us never speak more, we two,

of pardon or offence."

We stood after that silent, Catriona looking on the deck and I on her;

and before there was more speech, a little wind having sprung up in the

nor'-west, they began to shake out the sails and heave in upon the

anchor.

There were six passengers besides our two selves, which made of it a

full cabin. Three were solid merchants out of Leith, Kirkcaldy, and

Dundee, all engaged in the same adventure into High Germany. One was a

Hollander returning; the rest worthy merchants' wives, to the charge of

one of whom Catriona was recommended. Mrs. Gebbie (for that was her

name) was by great good fortune heavily incommoded by the sea, and lay

day and night on the broad of her back. We were besides the only

creatures at all young on board the _Rose_, except a white-faced boy

that did my old duty to attend upon the table; and it came about that

Catriona and I were left almost entirely to ourselves. We had the next

seats together at the table, where I waited on her with extraordinary

pleasure. On deck, I made her a soft place with my cloak; and the

weather being singularly fine for that season, with bright frosty days

and nights, a steady, gentle wind, and scarce a sheet started all the

way through the North Sea, we sat there (only now and again walking to

and fro for warmth) from the first blink of the sun till eight or nine

at night under the clear stars. The merchants or Captain Sang would

sometimes glance and smile upon us, or pass a merry word or two and give

us the go-by again; but the most part of the time they were deep in

herring and chintzes and linen, or in computations of the slowness of

the passage, and left us to our own concerns, which were very little

important to any but ourselves.

At the first we had a great deal to say, and thought ourselves pretty

witty; and I was at a little pains to be the _beau_, and she (I believe)

to play the young lady of experience. But soon we grew plainer with each

other. I laid aside my high, clipped English (what little there was of

it) and forgot to make my Edinburgh bows and scrapes; she, upon her

side, fell into a sort of kind familiarity; and we dwelt together like

those of the same household, only (upon my side) with a more deep

emotion. About the same time, the bottom seemed to fall out of our

conversation, and neither one of us the less pleased. Whiles she would

tell me old wives' tales, of which she had a wonderful variety, many of

them from my friend red-headed Neil. She told them very pretty, and they

were pretty enough childish tales; but the pleasure to myself was in the

sound of her voice, and the thought that she was telling and I was

listening. Whiles, again, we would sit entirely silent, not

communicating even with a look, and tasting pleasure enough in the

sweetness of that neighbourhood. I speak here only for myself. Of what

was in the maid's mind I am not very sure that ever I asked myself; and

what was in my own I was afraid to consider. I need make no secret of it

now, either to myself or to the reader: I was fallen totally in love.

She came between me and the sun. She had grown suddenly taller, as I

say, but with a wholesome growth; she seemed all health, and lightness,

and brave spirits; and I thought she walked like a young deer, and stood

like a birch upon the mountains. It was enough for me to sit near by her

on the deck; and I declare I scarce spent two thoughts upon the future,

and was so well content with what I then enjoyed that I was never at the

pains to imagine any further step; unless perhaps that I would be

sometimes tempted to take her hand in mine and hold it there. But I was

too like a miser of what joys I had, and would venture nothing on a

hazard.

What we spoke was usually of ourselves or of each other, so that if any

one had been at so much pains as overhear us, he must have supposed us

the most egotistical persons in the world. It befell one day when we

were at this practice, that we came on a discourse of friends and

friendship, and I think now that we were sailing near the wind. We said

what a fine thing friendship was, and how little we had guessed of it,

and how it made life a new thing, and a thousand covered things of the

same kind that will have been said, since the foundation of the world,

by young folk in the same predicament. Then we remarked upon the

strangeness of that circumstance, that friends came together in the

beginning as if they were there for the first time, and yet each had

been alive a good while, losing time with other people.

"It is not much that I have done," said she, "and I could be telling you

the five-fifths of it in two-three words. It is only a girl I am, and

what can befall a girl, at all events? But I went with the clan in the

year 'Forty-five. The men marched with swords and firelocks, and some

of them in brigades in the same set of tartan; they were not backward at

the marching, I can tell you. And there were gentlemen from the Low

Country, with their tenants mounted and trumpets to sound, and there was

a grand skirling of war-pipes. I rode on a little Highland horse on the

right hand of my father, James More, and of Glengyle himself. And here

is one fine thing that I remember, that Glengyle kissed me in the face,

because (says he) 'my kinswoman, you are the only lady of the clan that

has come out,' and me a little maid of maybe twelve years old! I saw

Prince Charlie too, and the blue eyes of him; he was pretty indeed! I

had his hand to kiss in the front of the army. O, well, these were the

good days, but it is all like a dream that I have seen and then

awakened. It went what way you very well know; and these were the worst

days of all, when the red-coat soldiers were out, and my father and my

uncles lay in the hill, and I was to be carrying them their meat in the

middle night, or at the short side of day when the cocks crow. Yes, I

have walked in the night, many's the time, and my heart great in me for

terror of the darkness. It is a strange thing I will never have been

meddled with a bogle; but they say a maid goes safe. Next there was my

uncle's marriage, and that was a dreadful affair beyond all. Jean Kay

was that woman's name; and she had me in the room with her that night at

Inversnaid, the night we took her from her friends in the old, ancient

manner. She would and she wouldn't; she was for marrying Rob the one

minute, and the next she would be for none of him. I will never have

seen such a feckless creature of a woman; surely all there was of her

would tell her ay or no. Well, she was a widow, and I can never be

thinking a widow a good woman."

"Catriona!" says I, "how do you make out that?"

"I do not know," said she; "I am only telling you the seeming in my

heart. And then to marry a new man! Fy! But that was her; and she was

married again upon my uncle Robin, and went with him a while to kirk and

market; and then wearied, or else her friends got claught of her and

talked her round, or maybe she turned ashamed; at the least of it, she

ran away, and went back to her own folk, and said we had held her in the

lake, and I will never tell you all what. I have never thought much of

any females since that day. And so, in the end, my father, James More,

came to be cast in prison, and you know the rest of it as well as me."

"And through all you had no friends?" said I.

"No," said she; "I have been pretty chief with two-three lasses on the

braes, but not to call it friends."

"Well, mine is a plain tale," said I. "I never had a friend to my name

till I met in with you."

"And that brave Mr. Stewart?" she asked.

"O, yes, I was forgetting him," I said. "But he is a man, and that is

very different."

"I would think so," said she. "O, yes, it is quite different."

"And then there was one other," said I. "I once thought I had a friend,

but it proved a disappointment."

She asked me who she was.

"It was a he, then," said I. "We were the two best lads at my father's

school, and we thought we loved each other dearly. Well, the time came

when he went to Glasgow, to a merchant's house, that was his second

cousin once removed; and wrote me two-three times by the carrier; and

then he found new friends, and I might write till I was tired, he took

no notice. Eh, Catriona, it took me a long while to forgive the world.

There is not anything more bitter than to lose a fancied friend."

Then she began to question me close upon his looks and character, for we

were each a great deal concerned in all that touched the other; till at

last, in a very evil hour, I minded of his letters and went and fetched

the bundle from the cabin.

"Here are his letters," said I, "and all the letters that ever I got.

That will be the last I'll can tell of myself; you know the lave[26] as

well as I do."

"Will you let me read them, then?" says she.

I told her, _if she would be at the pains_; and she bade me go away and

she would read them from the one end to the other. Now, in this bundle

that I gave her there were packed together not only all the letters of

my false friend, but one or two of Mr. Campbell's when he was in town at

the Assembly, and to make a complete roll of all that ever was written

to me, Catriona's little word, and the two I had received from Miss

Grant, one when I was on the Bass, and one on board that ship. But of

these last I had no particular mind at the moment.

I was in that state of subjection to the thought of my friend that it

mattered not what I did, nor scarce whether I was in her presence or out

of it; I had caught her like some kind of a noble fever that lived

continually in my bosom, by night and by day, and whether I was waking

or asleep. So it befell that after I was come into the fore-part of the

ship, where the broad bows splashed into the billows, I was in no such

hurry to return, as you might fancy; rather prolonged my absence like a

variety in pleasure. I do not think I am by nature much of an Epicurean;

and there had come till then so small a share of pleasure in my way that

I might be excused, perhaps, to dwell on it unduly.

When I returned to her again, I had a faint, painful impression as of a

buckle slipped, so coldly she returned the packet.

"You have read them?" said I; and I thought my voice sounded not wholly

natural, for I was turning in my mind for what could ail her.

"Did you mean me to read all?" she asked.

I told her "Yes," with a drooping voice.

"The last of them as well?" said she.

I knew where we were now; yet I would not lie to her either. "I gave

them all without afterthought," I said, "as I supposed that you would

read them. I see no harm in any."

"I will be differently made," said she. "I thank God I am differently

made. It was not a fit letter to be shown me. It was not fit to be

written."

"I think you are speaking of your own friend, Barbara Grant?" said I.

"There will not be anything as bitter as to lose a fancied friend," said

she, quoting my own expression.

"I think it is sometimes the friendship that was fancied!" I cried.

"What kind of justice do you call this, to blame me for some words that

a tomfool of a madcap lass has written down upon a piece of paper? You

know yourself with what respect I have behaved--and would do always."

"Yet you would show me that same letter!" says she. "I want no such

friends. I can be doing very well, Mr. Balfour, without her--or you."

"This is your fine gratitude!" says I.

"I am very much obliged to you," said she. "I will be asking you to take

away your--letters." She seemed to choke upon the word, so that it

sounded like an oath.

"You shall never ask twice," said I; picked up that bundle, walked a

little way forward and cast them as far as possible into the sea. For a

very little more I could have cast myself after them.

The rest of the day I walked up and down raging. There were few names so

ill but what I gave her them in my own mind before the sun went down.

All that I had ever heard of Highland pride seemed quite outdone; that a

girl (scarce grown) should resent so trifling an allusion, and that from

her next friend, that she had near wearied me with praising of! I had

bitter, sharp, hard thoughts of her, like an angry boy's. If I had

kissed her indeed (I thought), perhaps she would have taken it pretty

well; and only because it had been written down, and with a spice of

jocularity, up she must fuff in this ridiculous passion. It seemed to me

there was a want of penetration in the female sex, to make angels weep

over the case of the poor men.

We were side by side again at supper, and what a change was there! She

was like curdled milk to me; her face was like a wooden doll's; I could

have indifferently smitten her or grovelled at her feet, but she gave me

not the least occasion to do either. No sooner the meal done than she

betook herself to attend on Mrs. Gebbie, which I think she had a little

neglected heretofore. But she was to make up for lost time, and in what

remained of the passage was extraordinary assiduous with the old lady,

and on deck began to make a great deal more than I thought wise of

Captain Sang. Not but what the captain seemed a worthy, fatherly man;

but I hated to behold her in the least familiarity with any one except

myself.

Altogether, she was so quick to avoid me, and so constant to keep

herself surrounded with others, that I must watch a long while before I

could find my opportunity; and after it was found, I made not much of

it, as you are now to hear.

"I have no guess how I have offended," said I; "it should scarce be

beyond pardon, then. O, try if you can pardon me."

"I have no pardon to give," said she; and the words seemed to come out

of her throat like marbles. "I will be very much obliged for all your

friendships." And she made me an eighth part of a curtsy.

But I had schooled myself beforehand to say more, and I was going to say

it too.

"There is one thing," said I. "If I have shocked your particularity by

the showing of that letter, it cannot touch Miss Grant. She wrote not to

you, but to a poor, common, ordinary lad, who might have had more sense

than show it. If you are to blame me----"

"I will advise you to say no more about that girl, at all events!" said

Catriona. "It is her I will never look the road of, not if she lay

dying." She turned away from me, and suddenly back. "Will you swear you

will have no more to deal with her?" she cried.

"Indeed, and I will never be so unjust then," said I; "nor yet so

ungrateful."

And now it was I that turned away.

FOOTNOTES:

[24] Sea-fog.

[25] Bashful.

[26] Rest.

CHAPTER XXII

HELVOETSLUYS

The weather in the end considerably worsened; the wind sang in the

shrouds, the sea swelled higher, and the ship began to labour and cry

out among the billows. The song of the leadsman in the chains was now

scarce ceasing, for we thrid all the way among shoals. About nine in the

morning, in a burst of wintry sun between two squalls of hail, I had my

first look of Holland--a line of windmills birling in the breeze. It was

besides my first knowledge of these daft-like contrivances, which gave

me a near sense of foreign travel and a new world and life. We came to

an anchor about half-past eleven, outside the harbour of Helvoetsluys,

in a place where the sea sometimes broke and the ship pitched

outrageously. You may be sure we were all on deck, save Mrs. Gebbie,

some of us in cloaks, others mantled in the ship's tarpaulins, all

clinging on by ropes, and jesting the most like old sailor-folk that we

could imitate.

Presently a boat, that was backed like a partan-crab, came gingerly

alongside, and the skipper of it hailed our master in the Dutch. Thence

Captain Sang turned, very troubled-like, to Catriona; and, the rest of

us crowding about, the nature of the difficulty was made plain to all.

The _Rose_ was bound to the port of Rotterdam, whither the other

passengers were in a great impatience to arrive, in view of a conveyance

due to leave that very evening in the direction of the Upper Germany.

This, with the present half-gale of wind, the captain (if no time were

lost) declared himself still capable to save. Now James More had trysted

in Helvoet with his daughter, and the captain had engaged to call

before the port and place her (according to the custom) in a shore boat.

There was the boat, to be sure, and here was Catriona ready: but both

our master and the patroon of the boat scrupled at the risk, and the

first was in no humour to delay.

"Your father," said he, "would be geyan little pleased if we was to

break a leg to ye, Miss Drummond, let-a-be drowning of you. Take my way

of it," says he, "and come on-by with the rest of us here to Rotterdam.

Ye can get a passage down the Maes in a sailing scoot as far as to the

Brill, and thence on again, by a place in a rattel-waggon, back to

Helvoet."

But Catriona would hear of no change. She looked white-like as she

beheld the bursting of the sprays, the green seas that sometimes poured

upon the forecastle, and the perpetual bounding and swooping of the boat

among the billows; but she stood firmly by her father's orders. "My

father, James More, will have arranged it so," was her first word and

her last. I thought it very idle, and indeed wanton, in the girl to be

so literal and stand opposite to so much kind advice; but the fact is

she had a very good reason, if she would have told us. Sailing scoots

and rattel-waggons are excellent things; only the use of them must first

be paid for, and all she was possessed of in the world was just two

shillings and a penny-halfpenny sterling. So it fell out that captain

and passengers, not knowing of her destitution--and she being too proud

to tell them--spoke in vain.

"But you ken nae French and nae Dutch neither," said one.

"It is very true," says she, "but since the year 'Forty-six there are so

many, of the honest Scots abroad that I will be doing very well, I thank

you."

There was a pretty country simplicity in this that made some laugh,

others looked the more sorry, and Mr. Gebbie fell outright in a passion.

I believe he knew it was his duty (his wife having accepted charge of the

girl) to have gone ashore with her and seen her safe: nothing would have

induced him to have done so, since it must have involved the loss of

his conveyance; and I think he made it up to his conscience by the

loudness of his voice. At least he broke out upon Captain Sang, raging

and saying the thing was a disgrace; that it was mere death to try to

leave the ship, and at any event we could not cast down an innocent maid

in a boatful of nasty Holland fishers, and leave her to her fate. I was

thinking something of the same; took the mate upon one side, arranged

with him to send on my chests by track-scoot to an address I had in

Leyden, and stood up and signalled to the fishers.

"I will go ashore with the young lady, Captain Sang," said I. "It is all

one what way I go to Leyden"; and leaped at the same time into the boat,

which I managed not so elegantly but what I fell with two of the fishers

in the bilge.

From the boat the business appeared yet more precarious than from the

ship, she stood so high over us, swung down so swift, and menaced us so

perpetually with her plunging and passaging upon the anchor cable. I

began to think I had made a fool's bargain, that it was merely

impossible Catriona should be got on board to me, and that I stood to be

set ashore at Helvoet all by myself and with no hope of any reward but

the pleasure of embracing James More, if I should want to. But this was

to reckon without the lass's courage. She had seen me leap with very

little appearance (however much reality) of hesitation; to be sure, she

was not to be beat by her discarded friend. Up she stood on the bulwarks

and held by a stay, the wind blowing in her petticoats, which made the

enterprise more dangerous, and gave us rather more of a view of her

stockings than would be thought genteel in cities. There was no minute

lost, and scarce time given for any to interfere, if they had wished the

same. I stood up on the other side and spread my arms; the ship swung

down on us, the patroon humoured his boat nearer in than was perhaps

wholly safe, and Catriona leaped into the air. I was so happy as to

catch her, and the fishers readily supporting us, escaped a fall. She

held to me a moment very tight, breathing quick and deep; thence (she

still clinging to me with both hands) we were passed aft to our places

by the steersman; and, Captain Sang and all the crew and passengers

cheering and crying farewell, the boat was put about for shore.

As soon as Catriona came a little to herself she unhanded me suddenly,

but said no word. No more did I; and indeed the whistling of the wind

and the breaching of the sprays made it no time for speech; and our crew

not only toiled excessively but made extremely little way, so that the

_Rose_ had got her anchor and was off again before we had approached the

harbour mouth.

We were no sooner in smooth water than the patroon, according to their

beastly Hollands custom, stopped his boat and required of us our fares.

Two guilders was the man's demand--between three and four shillings

English money--for each passenger. But at this Catriona began to cry out

with a vast deal of agitation. She had asked of Captain Sang, she said,

and the fare was but an English shilling. "Do you think I will have come

on board and not ask first?" cries she. The patroon scolded back upon

her in a lingo where the oaths were English and the rest right Hollands;

till at last (seeing her near tears) I privately slipped in the rogue's

hand six shillings, whereupon he was obliging enough to receive from her

the other shilling without more complaint. No doubt I was a good deal

nettled and ashamed. I like to see folk thrifty, but not with so much

passion; and I daresay it would be rather coldly that I asked her, as

the boat moved on again for shore, where it was that she was trysted

with her father.

"He is to be inquired of at the house of one Sprott, an honest Scots

merchant," says she; and then with the same breath, "I am wishing to

thank you very much--you are a brave friend to me."

"It will be time enough when I get you to your father," said I, little

thinking that I spoke so true. "I can tell him a fine tale of a loyal

daughter."

"O, I do not think I will be a loyal girl, at all events," she cried,

with a great deal of painfulness in the expression. "I do not think my

heart is true."

"Yet there are very few that would have made that leap, and all to obey

a father's orders," I observed.

"I cannot have you to be thinking of me so," she cried again. "When you

had done that same, how would I stop behind? And at all events that was

not all the reasons." Whereupon, with a burning face, she told me the

plain truth upon her poverty.

"Good guide us!" cried I, "what kind of daft-like proceeding is this, to

let yourself be launched on the continent of Europe with an empty purse;

I count it hardly decent--scant decent!" I cried.

"You forget James More, my father, is a poor gentleman," said she. "He

is a hunted exile."

"But I think not all your friends are hunted exiles," I exclaimed. "And

was this fair to them that care for you? Was it fair to me? was it fair

to Miss Grant, that counselled you to go, and would be driven fair

horn-mad if she could hear of it? Was it even fair to these Gregory folk

that you were living with, and used you lovingly? It's a blessing you

have fallen in my hands! Suppose your father hindered by an accident,

what would become of you here, and you your lee-lone in a strange place?

The thought of the thing frightens me," I said.

"I will have lied to all of them," she replied. "I will have told them

all that I had plenty. I told _her_ too. I could not be lowering James

More to them."

I found out later on that she must have lowered him in the very dust,

for the lie was originally the father's, not the daughter's, and she

thus obliged to persevere in it for the man's reputation. But at the

time I was ignorant of this, and the mere thought of her destitution and

the perils in which she must have fallen, had ruffled me almost beyond

reason.

"Well, well, well," said I, "you will have to learn more sense."

I left her mails for the moment in an inn upon the shore, where I got a

direction for Sprott's house in my new French, and we walked there--it

was some little way--beholding the place with wonder as we went. Indeed,

there was much for Scots folk to admire: canals and trees being

intermingled with the houses; the houses, each within itself, of a brave

red brick, the colour of a rose, with steps and benches of blue marble

at the cheek of every door, and the whole town so clean you might have

dined upon the causeway. Sprott was within, upon his ledgers, in a low

parlour, very neat and clean, and set out with china and pictures and a

globe of the earth in a brass frame. He was a big-chafted, ruddy, lusty

man, with a crooked hard look to him; and he made us not that much

civility as offer us a seat.

"Is James More Macgregor now in Helvoet, sir?" says I.

"I ken nobody by such a name," says he, impatient-like.

"Since you are so particular," says I, "I will amend my question, and

ask you where we are to find in Helvoet one James Drummond, _alias_

Macgregor, _alias_ James More, late tenant in Inveronachile?"

"Sir," says he, "he may be in Hell for what I ken, and for my part I

wish he was."

"The young lady is that gentleman's daughter, sir," said I, "before

whom, I think you will agree with me, it is not very becoming to discuss

his character."

"I have nothing to make either with him, or her, or you!" cries he in

his gross voice.

"Under your favour, Mr. Sprott," said I, "this young lady is come from

Scotland seeking him, and, by whatever mistake, was given the name of

your house for a direction. An error it seems to have been, but I think

this places both you and me--who am but her fellow-traveller by

accident--under a strong obligation to help our countrywoman."

"Will you ding me daft?" he cries. "I tell ye I ken naething and care

less either for him or his breed. I tell ye the man owes me money."

"That may very well be, sir," said I, who was now rather more angry than

himself. "At least, I owe you nothing; the young lady is under my

protection; and I am neither at all used with these manners, nor in the

least content with them."

As I said this, and without particularly thinking what I did, I drew a

step or two nearer to his table; thus striking, by mere good fortune, on

the only argument that could at all affect the man. The blood left his

lusty countenance.

"For the Lord's sake dinna be hasty, sir!" he cried. "I am truly wishfu'

no' to be offensive. But ye ken, sir, I'm like a wheen guid-natured,

honest, canty auld fallows--my bark is waur nor my bite. To hear me, ye

micht whiles fancy I was a wee thing dour; but na, na! it's a kind auld

fallow at heart, Sandie Sprott! And ye could never imagine the fyke and

fash this man has been to me."

"Very good, sir," said I. "Then I will make that much freedom with your

kindness as trouble you for your last news of Mr. Drummond."

"You're welcome, sir!" said he. "As for the young leddy (my respec's to

her!), he'll just have clean forgotten her. I ken the man, ye see; I

have lost siller by him ere now. He thinks of naebody but just himsel';

clan, king, or dauchter, if he can get his wameful, he would give them

a' the go-by! ay, or his correspondent either. For there is a sense in

whilk I may be nearly almost said to be his correspondent. The fact is,

we are employed thegither in a business affair, and I think it's like to

turn out a dear affair for Sandie Sprott. The man's as guid's my

pairtner, and I give ye my mere word I ken naething by where he is. He

micht be coming here to Helvoet; he micht come here the morn, he michtna

come for a twalmonth; I would wonder at naething--or just at the ae

thing, and that's if he was to pay me my siller. Ye see what way I stand

with it; and it's clear I'm no' very likely to meddle up with the young

leddy, as ye ca' her. She canna stop here, that's ae thing certain

sure. Dod, sir, I'm a lone man! If I was to tak' her in, it's highly

possible the hellicat would try and gar me marry her when he turned up."

"Enough of this talk," said I. "I will take the young lady among better

friends. Give me pen, ink, and paper, and I will leave here for James

More the address of my correspondent in Leyden. He can inquire from me

where he is to seek his daughter."

This word I wrote and sealed; which while I was doing, Sprott of his own

motion made a welcome offer, to charge himself with Miss Drummond's

mails, and even send a porter for them to the inn. I advanced him to

that effect a dollar or two to be a cover, and he gave me an

acknowledgment in writing of the sum.

Whereupon (I giving my arm to Catriona) we left the house of this

unpalatable rascal. She had said no word throughout, leaving me to judge

and speak in her place; I, upon my side, had been careful not to

embarrass her by a glance; and even now, although my heart still glowed

inside of me with shame and anger, I made it my affair to seem quite

easy.

"Now," said I, "let us get back to yon same inn where they can speak the

French, have a piece of dinner, and inquire for conveyances to

Rotterdam. I will never be easy till I have you safe again in the hands

of Mrs. Gebbie."

"I suppose it will have to be," said Catriona, "though, whoever will be

pleased, I do not think it will be her. And I will remind you this once

again, that I have but one shilling and three bawbees."

"And just this once again," said I, "I will remind you it was a blessing

that I came alongst with you."

"What else would I be thinking all this time?" says she, and I thought

weighed a little on my arm. "It is you that are the good friend to me."

CHAPTER XXIII

TRAVELS IN HOLLAND

The rattel-waggon, which is a kind of a long waggon set with benches,

carried us in four hours of travel to the great city of Rotterdam. It

was long past dark by then, but the streets pretty brightly lighted and

thronged with wild-like, outlandish characters--bearded Hebrews, black

men, and the hordes of courtesans, most indecently adorned with finery,

and stopping seamen by their very sleeves; the clash of talk about us

made our heads to whirl; and, what was the most unexpected of all, we

appeared to be no more struck with all these foreigners than they with

us. I made the best face I could, for the lass's sake and my own credit;

but the truth is, I felt like a lost sheep, and my heart beat in my

bosom with anxiety. Once or twice I inquired after the harbour or the

berth of the ship _Rose_; but either fell on some who spoke only

Hollands, or my own French failed me. Trying a street at a venture, I

came upon a lane of lighted houses, the doors and windows thronged with

wauf-like painted women; these jostled and mocked upon us as we passed,

and I was thankful we had nothing of their language. A little after we

issued forth upon an open place along the harbour.

"We shall be doing now," cries I, as soon as I spied masts. "Let us walk

here by the harbour. We are sure to meet some that has the English, and

at the best of it we may light upon that very ship."

We did the next best, as happened; for, about nine of the evening, whom

should we walk into the arms of but Captain Sang? He told us they had

made their run in the most incredible brief time, the wind holding

strong till they reached port; by which means his passengers were all

gone already on their further travels. It was impossible to chase after

the Gebbies into the High Germany, and we had no other acquaintance to

fall back upon but Captain Sang himself. It was the more gratifying to

find the man friendly and wishful to assist. He made it a small affair

to find some good plain family of merchants, where Catriona might

harbour till the _Rose_ was loaden; declared he would then blithely

carry her back to Leith for nothing and see her safe in the hands of Mr.

Gregory; and in the meanwhile carried us to a late ordinary for the meal

we stood in need of. He seemed extremely friendly, as I say, but, what

surprised me a good deal, rather boisterous in the bargain; and the

cause of this was soon to appear. For at the ordinary, calling for

Rhenish wine and drinking of it deep, he soon became unutterably tipsy.

In this case, as too common with all men, but especially with those of

his rough trade, what little sense or manners he possessed deserted him;

and he behaved himself so scandalous to the young lady, jesting most

ill-favouredly at the figure she had made on the ship's rail, that I had

no resource but carry her suddenly away.

She came out of that ordinary clinging to me close. "Take me away,

David," she said. "_You_ keep me. I am not afraid with you."

"And have no cause, my little friend!" cried I, and could have found it

in my heart to weep.

"Where will you be taking me?" she said again. "Don't leave me, at all

events--never leave me."

"Where am I taking you indeed?" says I, stopping, for I had been staving

on ahead in mere blindness. "I must stop and think. But I'll not leave

you, Catriona; the Lord do so to me, and more also, if I should fail or

fash you."

She crept closer in to me by way of a reply.

"Here," I said, "is the stillest place that we have hit on yet in this

busy byke of a city. Let us sit down here under yon tree and consider of

our course."

That tree (which I am little like to forget) stood hard by the

harbour-side. It was a black night, but lights were in the houses, and

nearer hand in the quiet ships; there was a shining of the city on the

one hand, and a buzz hung over it of many thousands walking and talking;

on the other, it was dark, and the water bubbled on the sides. I spread

my cloak upon a builder's stone, and made her sit there; she would have

kept her hold upon me, for she still shook with the late affronts; but I

wanted to think clear, disengaged myself, and paced to and fro before

her, in the manner of what we call a smuggler's walk, belabouring my

brains for any remedy. By the course of these scattering thoughts I was

brought suddenly face to face with a remembrance that, in the heat and

haste of our departure, I had left Captain Sang to pay the ordinary. At

this I began to laugh out loud, for I thought the man well served; and

at the same time, by an instinctive movement, carried my hand to the

pocket where my money was. I suppose it was in the lane where the women

jostled us; but there is only the one thing certain, that my purse was

gone.

"You will have thought of something good," said she, observing me to

pause.

At the pinch we were in, my mind became suddenly clear as a

perspective-glass, and I saw there was no choice of methods. I had not

one doit of coin, but in my pocket-book I had still my letter on the

Leyden merchant; and there was now but the one way to get to Leyden, and

that was to walk on our two feet.

"Catriona," said I, "I know you're brave, and I believe you're

strong--do you think you could walk thirty miles on a plain road?" We

found it, I believe, scarce the two-thirds of that, but such was my

notion of the distance.

"David," she said, "if you will just keep near, I will go anywhere and

do anything. The courage of my heart, it is all broken. Do not be

leaving me in this horrible country by myself, and I will do all else."

"Can you start now and march all night?" said I.

"I will do all that you can ask of me," she said, "and never ask you

why. I have been a bad, ungrateful girl to you; and do what you please

with me now! And I think Miss Barbara Grant is the best lady in the

world," she added, "and I do not see what she would deny you for at all

events."

This was Greek and Hebrew to me; but I had other matters to consider,

and the first of these was to get clear of that city on the Leyden road.

It proved a cruel problem; and it may have been one or two at night ere

we had solved it. Once beyond the houses, there was neither moon nor

stars to guide us; only the whiteness of the way in the midst, and a

blackness of an alley on both hands. The walking was besides made most

extraordinary difficult by a plain black frost that fell suddenly in the

small hours and turned that highway into one long slide.

"Well, Catriona," said I, "here we are, like the king's sons and the old

wives' daughters in your daft-like Highland tales. Soon we'll be going

over the '_seven Bens, the seven glens, and the seven mountain

moors_'"--which was a common byword or overcome in those tales of hers

that had stuck in my memory.

"Ah," says she, "but here are no glens or mountains! Though I will never

be denying but what the trees and some of the plain places hereabouts

are very pretty. But our country is the best yet."

"I wish we could say as much for our own folk," says I, recalling Sprott

and Sang, and perhaps James More himself.

"I will never complain of the country of my friend," said she, and spoke

it out with an accent so particular that I seemed to see the look upon

her face.

I caught in my breath sharp and came near falling (for my pains) on the

black ice.

"I do not know what _you_ think, Catriona," said I, when I was a little

recovered, "but this has been the best day yet! I think shame to say it,

when you have met in with such misfortunes and disfavours; but for me,

it has been the best day yet."

"It was a good day when you showed me so much love," said she.

"And yet I think shame to be happy too," I went on, "and you here on the

road in the black night."

"Where in the great world would I be else?" she cried. "I am thinking I

am safest where I am with you."

"I am quite forgiven, then?" I asked.

"Will you not forgive me that time so much as not to take it in your

mouth again?" she cried. "There is nothing in this heart to you but

thanks. But I will be honest too," she added, with a kind of suddenness,

"and I'll never can forgive that girl."

"Is this Miss Grant again?" said I. "You said yourself she was the best

lady in the world."

"So she will be, indeed!" says Catriona. "But I will never forgive her

for all that. I will never, never forgive her, and let me hear tell of

her no more."

"Well," said I, "this beats all that ever came to my knowledge; and I

wonder that you can indulge yourself in such bairnly whims. Here is a

young lady that was the best friend in the world to the both of us, that

learned us how to dress ourselves, and in a great manner how to behave,

as any one can see that knew us both before and after."

But Catriona stopped square in the midst of the highway.

"It is this way of it," said she. "Either you will go on to speak of

her, and I will go back to yon town, and let come of it what God

pleases! Or else you will do me that politeness to talk of other

things."

I was the most nonplussed person in this world; but I bethought me that

she depended altogether on my help, that she was of the frail sex, and

not so much beyond a child, and it was for me to be wise for the pair of

us.

"My dear girl," said I, "I can make neither head nor tails of this; but

God forbid that I should do anything to set you on the jee. As for

talking of Miss Grant, I have no such a mind to it, and I believe it was

yourself began it. My only design (if I took you up at all) was for your

own improvement, for I hate the very look of injustice. Not that I do

not wish you to have a good pride and a nice female delicacy; they

become you well; but here you show them to excess."

"Well, then, have you done?" said she.

"I have done," said I.

"A very good thing," said she, and we went on again, but now in silence.

It was an eerie employment to walk in the gross night, beholding only

shadows, and hearing nought but our own steps. At first, I believe our

hearts burned against each other with a deal of enmity; but the darkness

and the cold, and the silence, which only the cocks sometimes

interrupted, or sometimes the farmyard dogs, had pretty soon brought

down our pride to the dust; and for my own particular, I would have

jumped at any decent opening for speech.

Before the day peeped, came on a warmish rain, and the frost was all

wiped away from among our feet. I took my cloak to her and sought to hap

her in the same; she bade me, rather impatiently, to keep it.

"Indeed and I will do no such thing," said I. "Here am I, a great, ugly

lad that has seen all kinds of weather, and here are you, a tender,

pretty maid! My dear, you would not put me to a shame?"

Without more words she let me cover her; which as I was doing in the

darkness, I let my hand rest a moment on her shoulder, almost like an

embrace.

"You must try to be more patient of your friend," said I.

I thought she seemed to lean the least thing in the world against my

bosom, or perhaps it was but fancy.

"There will be no end to your goodness," said she.

And we went on again in silence; but now all was changed; and the

happiness that was in my heart was like a fire in a great chimney.

The rain passed ere day; it was but a sloppy morning as we came into the

town of Delft. The red-gabled houses made a handsome show on either hand

of a canal; the servant lasses were out slaistering and scrubbing at

the very stones upon the public highway; smoke rose from a hundred

kitchens; and it came in upon me strongly it was time to break our

fasts.

"Catriona," said I. "I believe you have yet a shilling and three

bawbees?"

"Are you wanting it?" said she, and passed me her purse. "I am wishing

it was five pounds! What will you want it for?"

"And what have we been walking for all night, like a pair of waif

Egyptians?" says I. "Just because I was robbed of my purse and all I

possessed in that unchancy town of Rotterdam. I will tell you of it now,

because I think the worst is over, but we have still a good tramp before

us till we get to where my money is, and if you would not buy me a piece

of bread, I were like to go fasting."

She looked at me with open eyes. By the light of the new day she was all

black and pale for weariness, so that my heart smote me for her. But as

for her, she broke out laughing.

"My torture! are we beggars then?" she cried. "You too? O, I could have

wished for this same thing! And I am glad to buy your breakfast to you.

But it would be pleisand if I would have had to dance to get a meal to

you! For I believe they are not very well acquainted with our manner of

dancing over here, and might be paying for the curiosity of that sight."

I could have kissed her for that word, not with a lover's mind, but in a

heat of admiration. For it always warms a man to see a woman brave.

We got a drink of milk from a country wife but new come to the town,

and, in a baker's, a piece of excellent, hot, sweet-smelling bread,

which we ate upon the road as we went on. That road from Delft to the

Hague is just five miles of a fine avenue shaded with trees, a canal on

the one hand, on the other excellent pastures of cattle. It was pleasant

here indeed.

"And now, Davie," said she, "what will you do with me at all events?"

"It is what we have to speak of," said I, "and the sooner yet the

better. I can come by money in Leyden; that will be all well. But the

trouble is how to dispose of you until your father come. I thought last

night you seemed a little sweer to part from me!"

"It will be more than seeming then," said she.

"You are a very young maid," said I, "and I am but a very young callant.

This is a great piece of difficulty. What way are we to manage? Unless,

indeed, you could pass to be my sister?"

"And what for no?" said she, "if you would let me!"

"I wish you were so, indeed!" I cried. "I would be a fine man if I had

such a sister. But the rub is that you are Catriona Drummond."

"And now I will be Catrine Balfour," she said. "And who is to ken? They

are all strange folk here."

"If you think that it would do," says I. "I own it troubles me. I would

like it very ill, if I advised you at all wrong."

"David, I have no friend here but you," she said.

"The mere truth is, I am too young to be your friend," said I. "I am too

young to advise you, or you to be advised. I see not what else we are to

do, and yet I ought to warn you."

"I will have no choice left," said she. "My father James More has not

used me very well, and it is not the first time. I am cast upon your

hands like a sack of barley-meal, and have nothing else to think of but

your pleasure. If you will have me, good and well. If you will not"--she

turned and touched her hand upon my arm--"David, I am afraid," said she.

"No, but I ought to warn you," I began; and then bethought me that I was

the bearer of the purse, and it would never do to seem too churlish.

"Catriona," said I, "don't misunderstand me: I am just trying to do my

duty by you, girl! Here am I, going alone to this strange city, to be a

solitary student there; and here is this chance arisen that you might

dwell with me a bit, and be like my sister: you can surely understand

this much, my dear, that I would just love to have you?"

"Well, and here I am," said she. "So that's soon settled."

I know I was in duty bounden to have spoke more plain. I know this was a

great blot upon my character, for which I was lucky that I did not pay

more dear. But I minded how easy her delicacy had been startled with a

word of kissing her in Barbara's letter; now that she depended on me,

how was I to be more bold? Besides, the truth is, I could see no other

feasible method to dispose of her. And I daresay inclination pulled me

very strong.

A little beyond the Hague she fell very lame, and made the rest of the

distance heavily enough. Twice she must rest by the wayside, which she

did with pretty apologies, calling herself a shame to the Highlands and

the race she came of, and nothing but a hindrance to myself. It was her

excuse, she said, that she was not much used with walking shod. I would

have had her strip off her shoes and stockings and go barefoot. But she

pointed out to me that the women of that country, even in the landward

roads, appeared to be all shod.

"I must not be disgracing my brother," said she, and was very merry with

it all, although her face told tales of her.

There is a garden in that city we were bound to, sanded below with clean

sand, the trees meeting overhead, some of them trimmed, some pleached,

and the whole place beautified with alleys and arbours. Here I left

Catriona, and went forward by myself to find my correspondent. There I

drew on my credit, and asked to be recommended to some decent, retired

lodging. My baggage not being yet arrived, I told him I supposed I

should require his caution with the people of the house; and explained

that, my sister being come for a while to keep house with me, I should

be wanting two chambers. This was all very well; but the trouble was

that Mr. Balfour in his letter of recommendation had condescended on a

great deal of particulars, and never a word of any sister in the case. I

could see my Dutchman was extremely suspicious; and viewing me over the

rims of a great pair of spectacles--he was a poor, frail body, and

reminded me of an infirm rabbit--he began to question me close.

Here I fell in a panic. Suppose he accept my tale (thinks I), suppose he

invite my sister to his house, and that I bring her. I shall have a fine

ravelled pirn to unwind, and may end by disgracing both the lassie and

myself. Thereupon I began hastily to expound to him my sister's

character. She was of a bashful disposition, it appeared, and so

extremely fearful of meeting strangers that I had left her at that

moment sitting in a public place alone. And then, being launched upon

the stream of falsehood, I must do like all the rest of the world in the

same circumstance, and plunge in deeper than was any service; adding

some altogether needless particulars of Miss Balfour's ill-health and

retirement during childhood. In the midst of which I awoke to a sense of

my behaviour, and was turned to one blush.

The old gentleman was not so much deceived but what he discovered a

willingness to be quit of me. But he was first of all a man of business;

and knowing that my money was good enough, however it might be with my

conduct, he was so far obliging as to send his son to be my guide and

caution in the matter of a lodging. This implied my presenting of the

young man to Catriona. The poor, pretty child was much recovered with

resting, looked and behaved to perfection, and took my arm and gave me

the name of brother more easily than I could answer her. But there was

one misfortune: thinking to help, she was rather towardly than otherwise

to my Dutchman. And I could not but reflect that Miss Balfour had rather

suddenly outgrown her bashfulness. And there was another thing, the

difference of our speech. I had the Low-Country tongue and dwelled upon

my words; she had a hill voice, spoke with something of an English

accent, only far more delightful, and was scarce quite fit to be called

a deacon in the craft of talking English grammar; so that, for a brother

and sister, we made a most uneven pair. But the young Hollander was a

heavy dog, without so much spirit in his belly as to remark her

prettiness, for which I scorned him. And as soon as he had found a cover

to our heads, he left us alone, which was the greater service of the

two.

CHAPTER XXIV

FULL STORY OF A COPY OF HEINECCIUS

The place found was in the upper part of a house backed on a canal. We

had two rooms, the second entering from the first; each had a chimney

built out into the floor in the Dutch manner; and being alongside, each

had the same prospect from the window of the top of a tree below us in a

little court, of a piece of the canal, and of houses in the Hollands

architecture and a church spire upon the farther side. A full set of

bells hung in that spire, and made delightful music; and when there was

any sun at all, it shone direct in our two chambers. From a tavern hard

by we had good meals sent in.

The first night we were both pretty weary, and she extremely so. There

was little talk between us, and I packed her off to her bed as soon as

she had eaten. The first thing in the morning I wrote word to Sprott to

have her mails sent on, together with a line to Alan at his chief's; and

had the same despatched, and her breakfast ready, ere I waked her. I was

a little abashed when she came forth in her one habit, and the mud of

the way upon her stockings. By what inquiries I had made, it seemed a

good few days must pass before her mails could come to hand in Leyden,

and it was plainly needful she must have a shift of things. She was

unwilling at first that I should go to that expense; but I reminded her

she was now a rich man's sister, and must appear suitably in the part,

and we had not got to the second merchant's before she was entirely

charmed into the spirit of the thing, and her eyes shining. It pleased

me to see her so innocent and thorough in this pleasure. What was more

extraordinary was the passion into which I fell on it myself; being

never satisfied that I had bought her enough or fine enough, and never

weary of beholding her in different attires. Indeed, I began to

understand some little of Miss Grant's immersion in that interest of

clothes; for the truth is, when you have the ground of a beautiful

person to adorn, the whole business becomes beautiful. The Dutch

chintzes I should say were extraordinary cheap and fine; but I would be

ashamed to set down what I paid for stockings to her. Altogether I spent

so great a sum upon this pleasuring (as I may call it) that I was

ashamed for a great while to spend more; and, by way of a set-off, I

left our chambers pretty bare. If we had beds, if Catriona was a little

braw, and I had light to see her by, we were richly enough lodged for

me.

By the end of this merchandising I was glad to leave her at the door

with all our purchases, and go for a long walk alone in which to read

myself a lecture. Here had I taken under my roof, and as good as to my

bosom, a young lass extremely beautiful, and whose innocence was her

peril. My talk with the old Dutchman, and the lies to which I was

constrained, had already given me a sense of how my conduct must appear

to others; and now, after the strong admiration I had just experienced

and the immoderacy with which I had continued my vain purchases, I began

to think of it myself as very hazarded. I bethought me, if I had a

sister indeed, whether I would so expose her; then, judging the case too

problematical, I varied my question into this, whether I would so trust

Catriona in the hands of any other Christian being: the answer to which

made my face to burn. The more cause, since I had been entrapped, and

had entrapped the girl into an undue situation, that I should behave in

it with scrupulous nicety. She depended on me wholly for her bread and

shelter; in case I should alarm her delicacy, she had no retreat.

Besides, I was her host and her protector; and the more irregularly I

had fallen in these positions, the less excuse for me if I should profit

by the same to forward even the most honest suit; for with the

opportunities that I enjoyed, and which no wise parent would have

suffered for a moment, even the most honest suit would be unfair. I saw

I must be extremely hold-off in my relations; and yet not too much so

neither; for if I had no right to appear at all in the character of a

suitor, I must yet appear continually, and if possible agreeably, in

that of host. It was plain I should require a great deal of tact and

conduct, perhaps more than my years afforded. But I had rushed in where

angels might have feared to tread, and there was no way out of that

position save by behaving right while I was in it. I made a set of rules

for my guidance; prayed for strength to be enabled to observe them, and

as a more human aid to the same end purchased a study-book in law. This

being all that I could think of, I relaxed from these grave

considerations; whereupon my mind bubbled at once into an effervescency

of pleasing spirits, and it was like one treading on air that I turned

homeward. As I thought that name of home, and recalled the image of that

figure awaiting me between four walls, my heart beat upon my bosom.

My troubles began with my return. She ran to greet me with an obvious

and affecting pleasure. She was clad, besides, entirely in the new

clothes that I had bought for her; looked in them beyond expression

well; and must walk about and drop me curtsies to display them and to be

admired. I am sure I did it with an ill grace, for I thought to have

choked upon the words.

"Well," she said, "if you will not be caring for my pretty clothes, see

what I have done with our two chambers." And she showed me the place all

very finely swept, and the fires glowing in the two chimneys.

I was glad of a chance to seem a little more severe than I quite felt.

"Catriona," said I, "I am very much displeased with you, and you must

never again lay a hand upon my room. One of us two must have the rule

while we are here together; it is most fit it should be I, who am both

the man and the elder; and I give you that for my command."

She dropped me one of her curtsies, which were extraordinary taking. "If

you will be cross," said she, "I must be making pretty manners at you,

Davie. I will be very obedient, as I should be when every stitch upon

all there is of me belongs to you. But you will not be very cross

either, because now I have not anyone else."

This struck me hard, and I made haste, in a kind of penitence, to blot

out all the good effect of my last speech. In this direction progress

was more easy, being down hill; she led me forward, smiling; at the

sight of her, in the brightness of the fire and with her pretty becks

and looks, my heart was altogether melted. We made our meal with

infinite mirth and tenderness; and the two seemed to be commingled into

one, so that our very laughter sounded like a kindness.

In the midst of which I awoke to better recollections, made a lame word

of excuse, and set myself boorishly to my studies. It was a substantial,

instructive book that I had bought, by the late Dr. Heineccius, in which

I was to do a great deal of reading these next days, and often very glad

that I had no one to question me of what I read. Methought she bit her

lip at me a little, and that cut me. Indeed, it left her wholly

solitary, the more as she was very little of a reader, and had never a

book. But what was I to do?

So the rest of the evening flowed by almost without speech.

I could have beat myself. I could not lie in my bed that night for rage

and repentance, but walked to and fro on my bare feet till I was nearly

perished, for the chimney was gone out and the frost keen. The thought

of her in the next room, the thought that she might even hear me as I

walked, the remembrance of my churlishness and that I must continue to

practise the same ungrateful course or be dishonoured, put me beside my

reason. I stood like a man between Scylla and Charybdis: _What must she

think of me_? was my one thought that softened me continually into

weakness. _What is to become of us?_ the other which steeled me again

to resolution. This was my first night of wakefulness and divided

counsels, of which I was now to pass many, pacing like a madman,

sometimes weeping like a childish boy, sometimes praying (I would fain

hope) like a Christian.

But prayer is not very difficult, and the hitch comes in practice. In

her presence, and above all if I allowed any beginning of familiarity, I

found I had very little command of what should follow. But to sit all

day in the same room with her, and feign to be engaged upon Heineccius,

surpassed my strength. So that I fell instead upon the expedient of

absenting myself so much as I was able; taking out classes and sitting

there regularly, often with small attention, the test of which I found

the other day in a notebook of that period, where I had left off to

follow an edifying lecture, and actually scribbled in my book some very

ill verses, though the Latinity is rather better than I thought I could

ever have compassed. The evil of this course was unhappily near as great

as its advantage. I had the less time of trial, but I believe, while

that time lasted, I was tried the more extremely. For she being so much

left to solitude, she came to greet my return with an increasing fervour

that came nigh to overmaster me. These friendly offers I must

barbarously cast back; and my rejection sometimes wounded her so cruelly

that I must unbend and seek to make it up to her in kindness. So that

our time passed in ups and downs, tiffs and disappointments, upon the

which I could almost say (if it may be said with reverence) that I was

crucified.

The base of my trouble was Catriona's extraordinary innocence, at which

I was not so much surprised as filled with pity and admiration. She

seemed to have no thought of our position, no sense of my struggles;

welcomed any mark of my weakness with responsive joy; and, when I was

drove again to my retrenchments, did not always dissemble her chagrin.

There were times when I have thought to myself, "If she were over head

in love, and set her cap to catch me, she would scarce behave much

otherwise"; and then I would fall again into wonder at the simplicity

of woman, from whom I felt (in these moments) that I was not worthy to

be descended.

There was one point in particular on which our warfare turned, and of

all things, this was the question of her clothes. My baggage had soon

followed me from Rotterdam, and hers from Helvoet. She had now, as it

were, two wardrobes; and it grew to be understood between us (I could

never tell how) that when she was friendly she would wear my clothes,

and when otherwise her own. It was meant for a buffet, and (as it were)

the renunciation of her gratitude; and I felt it so in my bosom, but was

generally more wise than to appear to have observed the circumstance.

Once, indeed, I was betrayed into a childishness greater than her own;

it fell in this way. On my return from classes, thinking upon her

devoutly with a great deal of love and a good deal of annoyance in the

bargain, the annoyance began to fade away out of my mind; and spying in

a window one of those forced flowers, of which the Hollanders are so

skilled in the artifice, I gave way to an impulse and bought it for

Catriona. I do not know the name of that flower, but it was of the pink

colour, and I thought she would admire the same, and carried it home to

her with a wonderful soft heart. I had left her in my clothes, and when

I returned to find her all changed, and a face to match, I cast but the

one look at her from head to foot, ground my teeth together, flung the

window open, and my flower into the court, and then (between rage and

prudence) myself out of that room again, of which I slammed the door as

I went out.

On the steep stair I came near falling, and this brought me to myself,

so that I began at once to see the folly of my conduct. I went, not into

the street as I had purposed, but to the house court, which was always a

solitary place, and where I saw my flower (that had cost me vastly more

than it was worth) hanging in the leafless tree. I stood by the side of

the canal, and looked upon the ice. Country-people went by on their

skates, and I envied them. I could see no way out of the pickle I was

in: no way so much as to return to the room I had just left. No doubt

was in my mind but I had now betrayed the secret of my feelings; and, to

make things worse, I had shown at the same time (and that with wretched

boyishness) incivility to my helpless guest.

I suppose she must have seen me from the open window. It did not seem to

me that I had stood there very long before I heard the crunching of

footsteps on the frozen snow, and turning somewhat angrily (for I was in

no spirit to be interrupted) saw Catriona drawing near. She was all

changed again, to the clocked stockings.

"Are we not to have our walk to-day?" she said.

I was looking at her in a maze. "Where is your brooch?" says I.

She carried her hand to her bosom and coloured high. "I will have

forgotten it," said she. "I will run upstairs for it quick, and then

surely we'll can have our walk?"

There was a note of pleading in that last that staggered me; I had

neither words nor voice to utter them; I could do no more than nod by

way of answer; and the moment she had left me, climbed into the tree and

recovered my flower, which on her return I offered her.

"I bought it for you, Catriona," said I.

She fixed it in the midst of her bosom with the brooch, I could have

thought tenderly.

"It is none the better of my handling," said I again, and blushed.

"I will be liking it none the worse, you may be sure, of that," said

she.

We did not speak so much that day; she seemed a thought on the reserve,

though not unkindly. As for me, all the time of our walking, and after

we came home, and I had seen her put my flower into a pot of water, I

was thinking to myself what puzzles women were. I was thinking, the one

moment, it was the most stupid thing on earth she should not have

perceived my love; and the next, that she had certainly perceived it

long ago, and (being a wise girl, with the fine female instinct of

propriety) concealed her knowledge.

We had our walk daily. Out in the streets I felt more safe; I relaxed a

little in my guardedness; and for one thing, there was no Heineccius.

This made these periods not only a relief to myself, but a particular

pleasure to my poor child. When I came back about the hour appointed, I

would generally find her ready dressed and glowing with anticipation.

She would prolong their duration to the extreme, seeming to dread (as I

did myself) the hour of the return; and there is scarce a field or

waterside near Leyden, scarce a street or lane there, where we have not

lingered. Outside of these, I bade her confine herself entirely to our

lodgings; this in the fear of her encountering any acquaintance, which

would have rendered our position very difficult. From the same

apprehension I would never suffer her to attend church, nor even go

myself; but made some kind of shift to hold worship privately in our own

chamber--I hope with an honest, but I am quite sure with a very much

divided mind. Indeed, there was scarce anything that more affected me

than thus to kneel down alone with her before God like man and wife.

One day it was snowing downright hard. I had thought it not possible

that we should venture forth, and was surprised to find her waiting for

me ready dressed.

"I will not be doing without my walk," she cried. "You are never a good

boy, Davie, in the house; I will never be caring for you only in the

open air. I think we two will better turn Egyptian and dwell by the

roadside."

That was the best walk yet of all of them; she clung near to me in the

falling snow; it beat about and melted on us, and the drops stood upon

her bright cheeks like tears and ran into her smiling mouth. Strength

seemed to come upon me with the sight like a giant's; I thought I could

have caught her up and run with her into the uttermost places in the

earth; and we spoke together all that time beyond belief for freedom and

sweetness.

It was the dark night when we came to the house-door. She pressed my arm

upon her bosom. "Thank you kindly for these same good hours," said she,

on a deep note of her voice.

The concern in which I fell instantly on this address put me with the

same swiftness on my guard; and we were no sooner in the chamber, and

the light made, than she beheld the old, dour, stubborn countenance of

the student of Heineccius. Doubtless she was more than usually hurt; and

I know for myself I found it more than usually difficult to maintain my

strangeness. Even at the meal I durst scarce unbuckle and scarce lift my

eyes to her; and it was no sooner over than I fell again to my civilian,

with more seeming abstraction and less understanding than before.

Methought, as I read, I could hear my heart strike like an eight-day

clock. Hard as I feigned to study, there was still some of my eyesight

that spilled beyond the book upon Catriona. She sat on the floor by the

side of my great mail, and the chimney lighted her up, and shone and

blinked upon her, and made her glow and darken through a wonder of fine

hues. Now she would be gazing in the fire, and then again at me: and at

that I would be plunged in a terror of myself, and turn the pages of

Heineccius like a man looking for the text in church.

Suddenly she called out aloud. "O, why does not my father come?" she

cried, and fell at once into a storm of tears.

I leapt up, flung Heineccius fairly in the fire, ran to her side, and

cast an arm round her sobbing body.

She put me from her sharply. "You do not love your friend," says she. "I

could be so happy too, if you would let me!" And then, "O, what will I

have done that you should hate me so?"

"Hate you!" cries I, and held her firm. "You blind lass, can you not see

a little in my wretched heart? Do you think when I sit there, reading

in that fool-book that I have just burned, and be damned to it, I take

ever the least thought of any stricken thing but just yourself? Night

after night I could have grat to see you sitting there your lone. And

what was I to do? You are here under my honour; would you punish me for

that? Is it for that that you would spurn a loving servant?"

At the word, with a small, sudden motion, she clung near to me. I raised

her face to mine, I kissed it, and she bowed her brow upon my bosom,

clasping me tight. I sat in a mere whirl, like a man drunken. Then I

heard her voice sound very small and muffled in my clothes.

"Did you kiss her truly?" she asked.

There went through me so great a heave of surprise that I was all shook

with it.

"Miss Grant!" I cried, all in a disorder. "Yes, I asked her to kiss me

good-bye, the which she did."

"Ah, well!" said she, "you have kissed me too, at all events."

At the strangeness and sweetness of that word I saw where we had fallen;

rose, and set her on her feet.

"This will never do," said I. "This will never, never do. O, Catrine,

Catrine!" Then there came a pause in which I was debarred from any

speaking. And then, "Go away to your bed," said I. "Go away to your bed

and leave me."

She turned to obey me like a little child, and the next I knew of it had

stopped in the very doorway.

"Good-night, Davie!" said she.

"And O, good-night, my love!" I cried, with a great outbreak of my soul,

and caught her to me again, so that it seemed I must have broken her.

The next moment I had thrust her from the room, shut-to the door even

with violence, and stood alone.

The milk was spilt now, the word was out and the truth told. I had crept

like an untrusty man into the poor maid's affections; she was in my

hand like any frail, innocent thing to make or mar; and what weapon of

defence was left me? It seemed like a symbol that Heineccius, my old

protection, was now burned. I repented, yet could not find it in my

heart to blame myself for that great failure. It seemed not possible to

have resisted the boldness of her innocence or that last temptation of

her weeping. And all that I had to excuse me did but make my sin appear

the greater--it was upon a nature so defenceless, and with such

advantages of the position, that I seemed to have practised.

What was to become of us now? It seemed we could no longer dwell in the

one place. But where was I to go? or where she? Without either choice or

fault of ours, life had conspired to wall us together in that narrow

place. I had a wild thought of marrying out of hand; and the next moment

put it from me with revolt. She was a child, she could not tell her own

heart; I had surprised her weakness, I must never go on to build on that

surprisal; I must keep her not only clear of reproach, but free as she

had come to me.

Down I sat before the fire, and reflected, and repented, and beat my

brains in vain for any means of escape. About two of the morning, there

were three red embers left, and the house and all the city was asleep,

when I was aware of a small sound of weeping in the next room. She

thought that I slept, the poor soul; she regretted her weakness--and

what perhaps (God help her!) she called her forwardness--and in the dead

of the night solaced herself with tears. Tender and bitter feelings,

love and penitence and pity, struggled in my soul; it seemed I was under

bond to heal that weeping.

"O, try to forgive me!" I cried out, "try, try to forgive me. Let us

forget it all, let us try if we'll no' can forget it."

There came no answer, but the sobbing ceased. I stood a long while with

my hands still clasped as I had spoken; then the cold of the night laid

hold upon me with a shudder, and I think my reason reawakened.

"You can make no hand of this, Davie," thinks I. "To bed with you, like

a wise lad, and try if you can sleep. To-morrow you may see your way."

CHAPTER XXV

THE RETURN OF JAMES MORE

I was called on the morrow out of a late and troubled slumber by a

knocking on my door, ran to open it, and had almost swooned with the

contrariety of my feelings, mostly painful; for on the threshold, in a

rough wrap-rascal and an extraordinary big laced hat, there stood James

More.

I ought to have been glad perhaps without admixture, for there was a

sense in which the man came like an answer to prayer. I had been saying

till my head was weary that Catriona and I must separate, and looking

till my head ached for any possible means of separation. Here were the

means come to me upon two legs, and joy was the hind-most of my

thoughts. It is to be considered, however, that even if the weight of

the future were lifted off me by the man's arrival, the present heaved

up the more black and menacing; so that, as I first stood before him in

my shirt and breeches, I believe I took a leaping step backward like a

person shot.

"Ah," said he, "I have found you, Mr. Balfour," and offered me his

large, fine hand, the which (recovering at the same time my post in the

doorway, as if with some thought of resistance) I took him by

doubtfully. "It is a remarkable circumstance how our affairs appear to

intermingle," he continued. "I am owing you an apology for an

unfortunate intrusion upon yours, which I suffered myself to be

entrapped into by my confidence in that false-face, Prestongrange; I

think shame to own to you that I was ever trusting to a lawyer." He

shrugged his shoulders with a very French air. "But indeed the man is

very plausible," says he. "And now it seems that you have busied

yourself handsomely in the matter of my daughter, for whose direction I

was remitted to yourself."

"I think, sir," said I, with a very painful air, "that it will be

necessary we two should have an explanation."

"There is nothing amiss?" he asked. "My agent, Mr. Sprott--"

"For God's sake moderate your voice!" I cried. "She must not hear till

we have had an explanation."

"She is in this place?" cries he.

"That is her chamber-door," said I.

"You are here with her alone?" he asked.

"And who else would I have got to stay with us?" cries I.

I will do him the justice to admit that he turned pale.

"This is very unusual," said he. "This is a very unusual circumstance.

You are right, we must hold an explanation."

So saying, he passed me by, and I must own the tall old rogue appeared

at that moment extraordinary dignified. He had now, for the first time,

the view of my chamber, which I scanned (I may say) with his eyes. A bit

of morning sun glinted in by the window-pane, and showed it off; my bed,

my mails, and washing-dish, with some disorder of my clothes, and the

unlighted chimney, made the only plenishing; no mistake but it looked

bare and cold, and the most unsuitable, beggarly place conceivable to

harbour a young lady. At the same time came in on my mind the

recollection of the clothes that I had bought for her; and I thought

this contrast of poverty and prodigality bore an ill appearance.

He looked all about the chamber for a seat, and finding nothing else to

his purpose except my bed, took a place upon the side of it; where,

after I had closed the door, I could not very well avoid joining him.

For however this extraordinary interview might end, it must pass, if

possible, without waking Catriona; and the one thing needful was that

we should sit close and talk low. But I can scarce picture what a pair

we made; he in his great-coat, which the coldness of my chamber made

extremely suitable; I shivering in my shirt and breeks; he with very

much the air of a judge; and I (whatever I looked) with very much the

feelings of a man who has heard the last trumpet.

"Well?" says he.

And "Well," I began, but found myself unable to go further.

"You tell me she is here?" said he again, but now with a spice of

impatience that seemed to brace me up.

"She is in this house," said I, "and I knew the circumstance would be

called unusual. But you are to consider how very unusual the whole

business was from the beginning. Here is a young lady landed on the

coast of Europe with two shillings and a penny-halfpenny. She is

directed to yon man Sprott in Helvoet. I hear you call him your agent.

All I can say is he could do nothing but damn and swear at the mere

mention of your name, and I must fee him out of my own pocket even to

receive the custody of her effects. You speak of unusual circumstances,

Mr. Drummond, if that be the name you prefer. Here was a circumstance,

if you like, to which it was barbarity to have exposed her."

"But this is what I cannot understand the least," said James. "My

daughter was placed into the charge of some responsible persons, whose

names I have forgot."

"Gebbie was the name," said I; "and there is no doubt that Mr. Gebbie

should have gone ashore with her at Helvoet. But he did not, Mr.

Drummond; and I think you might praise God that I was there to offer in

his place."