26 The threesome. Whether or not I was to be so much blamed, or rather, perhaps pitied, I must leave others to judge. My shrewdness, of which I have a good deal, too, seems not so great with the ladies. No doubt at the moment when I awakened her, I was thinking a good deal of the effect upon James Moore, and similarly, when I returned, and we were all sat down to breakfast, I continued to behave to the young lady with deference and distance, as I still think to have been most wise. Her father had cast doubts upon the innocence of my friendship, and these it was my first business to allay. But there is a kind of an excuse for Katrina also. We had shared in a scene of some tenderness and passion, and given and received caresses. I had thrust her from me with violence. I had called aloud upon her in the night from the one room to the other. She had passed hours of wakefulness and weeping, and it is not supposed I had been absent from her pillow thoughts. Upon the back of this, to be awaked with unaccustomed formality, under the name of Miss Drummond, and to be henceforth used with a great deal of distance and respect, led her entirely in error on my private sentiments.  The trouble betwixt us seems to have been this. Thought singly of James Moore, his return and suspicions, she made so little of these that I may say she scarce remarked them, and all her troubles and doings regarded what had passed between us in the night before. This is partly to be explained by the innocence and boldness of her character, and partly because James Moore, having sped so ill in his interview with me, or had his mouth closed by my invitation, said no word to her upon the subject. At the breakfast accordingly it soon appeared we were at cross purposes. I had looked to find her in clothes of her own. I found her, as if her father were forgotten, wearing some of the best that I had bought for her, and which she knew or thought that I admired her in. I had looked to find her imitate my affectation of distance and be most precise and formal. Instead I found her flushed and wild like with eyes extraordinary bright, and a painful and varying expression, calling me by name with a sort of appeal of tenderness, and referring and deferring into my thoughts and wishes like an anxious or a suspected wife. But this was not for long. As I behold her so regardless of her own interests, which I had jeopardized and was now endeavoring to recover, I redoubled my own coldness in the manner of a lesson to the girl. The more she came forward, the further I drew back. The more she betrayed the closeness of our intimacy, the more pointedly civil I became until even her father, if he had not been so engrossed with eating, might have observed the opposition. In the midst of which, of a sudden, she became wholly changed, and I told myself with a good deal of relief that she had took the hint at last. All day I was at my classes or in quest of my new lodging, and though the hour of our customary walk hung miserably on my hands, I cannot say but I was happy on the whole to find my way cleared, the girl again in proper keeping, the father satisfied, or at least acquiescent, and to myself free to prosecute my love with honour. At supper, as at all our meals, it was James Moore that did the talking. No doubt but he talked well, if anyone could have believed him, but I will speak of him presently more at large. The meal, at an end, he rose, got his great coat, and, looking, as I thought, at me, observed he had affairs abroad. I took this for a hint that I was to be going also, and got up. Whereupon the girl, who had scarce giving me greeting at my entrance, turned her eyes upon me wide open with a look that made me stay. I stood between them like a fish out of water, turning from one to the other. Neither seemed to observe me, she gazing on the floor, him buttoning his coat, which vastly swelled my embarrassment. This appearance of indifference argued, upon her side, a good deal of anger very near to burst out. Upon his I thought it horribly alarming. I made sure there was a tempest brewing here, and considering that to be the chief peril, turned towards him, and put myself, so to speak, in the man's hand. Can I do anything for you, Mr. Drummond? says I. He stifled yawn, which again I thought to be duplicity. Why, Mr. David, said he, since you are so obliging as to propose it, you might show me the way to a certain tavern, of which he gave the name, where I hoped to fall in with some old companions in arms. There was no more to say, and I got my hat and cloak to bear him company.  And early to bed and early to rise, Gar's body lasses have bright eyes. Whereupon he kissed her with a good deal of tenderness, and ushered me before him from the door. This was so done, I thought on purpose, that it was scarce possible that there should be any parting salutation. But I observed she did not look at me, and set it down to terror of James Moore. It was some distance to that tavern, he talked all the way of matters which did not interest me the smallest, and at the door dismissed me with empty manners. Thence I walked to my new lodging, where I had not so much as a chimney to hold me warm, and no society but my own thoughts. These were still bright enough, I did not so much as dream that Katrina was turned against me. I thought we were like folk pledged, I thought we had been too near and spoke too warmly to be severed, least of all, by what were only steps in a most needful policy. And the chief of my concern was only the kind of father-in-law he was getting, which was not at all the kind I would have chosen, and the manner of how soon I ought to speak to him, which was a delicate point on several sides. In the first place, when I thought how young I was, I blushed all over, and could almost have found it in my heart to have desisted, only that of once I let them go from laden without explanation. I might lose her altogether. And in the second place there was our very irregular situation to be kept in view, and the rather scant measure of satisfaction I had given James Moore that morning. I concluded on the whole that delay would not hurt anything, yet I would not delay too long neither, and got to my cold bed with a full heart. The next day, as James Moore seemed a little on the complaining hand in the matter of my chamber, I offered to have it more furniture, and coming in the afternoon with porters bringing chairs and tables, found the girl once more left to herself. She greeted me on my admission civilly, but withdrew it once to her own room, of which she shut the door. I made my disposition, and paid and dismissed the men so that she might hear them go. When I supposed she would at once come forth again to speak to me, I waited yet a while, then knocked upon her door. Catrina, said I, the door was opened so quickly even before I had the word out that I thought she must have stood behind it listening. She remained there in the interval quite still, but she had a look that I could not put a name on, as of one in a bitter trouble. Are we not to have our walk today either? So I faltered. I am thanking you, said she. I will not be caring much to walk now that my father has come home. But I think he has gone out himself and left you here alone, said I. And do you think that was very kindly said? She asked. It was not unkindly meant, I replied. What hails you, Catrina? What have I done to you that you should turn from me like this? I do not turn from you at all, she said, speaking very carefully. I will ever be grateful to my friend that was good to me. I will ever be his friend in all that I am able. But now that my father, James Moore, has come again, there is a difference to be made, and I think there are some things said and done that would be better to be forgotten. But I will ever be your friend in all that I am able, and if that is not all, if it is not so much, not that you will be caring. But I would not have you think of me too hard. It was true what you said to me that I was too young to be advised, and I am hoping you will remember I was just a child. I would not like to lose your friendship at all events.  I saw for the first time how very wrong I had done to place the child in that position, where she had been entrapped into a moment's weakness, and now stood before me like a person shamed. Mr. Amond, I said, and stuck, and made the same beginning once again, I wish you could see into my heart, I cried. You would read there that my respect is undiminished. If that were possible, I should say it was increased. This is but the result of the mistake we made, and had to come, and the less set of it now, the better. Of all of our life here I promise you it shall never pass my lips. I would like to promise you, too, that I would never think of it, but it's a memory that will be always dear to me, and as for a friend, you have one here that would die for you. I am thanking you, said she. We stood a while silent, and my sorrow for myself began to get the upper hand, for here were all my dreams come to a sad tumble, and my love lost, and myself alone again in the world as at the beginning. Well, said I, we shall be friends always. That's a certain thing. But this is a kind of farewell, too. It is a kind of farewell after all. I shall always can, Miss Drummond. But this is a farewell to my Katrina. I looked at her. I could hardly say I saw her, but she seemed to grow great and brightened in my eyes. And with that I suppose I must have lost my head, for I cowled out her name again, and made a step at her with my hands reached forth. She shrank back like a person struck, her face flamed, but the blood sprang no faster up into her cheeks than it would have flowed back upon my own heart at the sight of it, with penitence and concern. I found no words to excuse myself, but bowed before her very deep, and went my ways out of the house with death in my bosom. I think it was about five days that followed without any change. I saw her scarce ever, but at meals, and then of course in the company of James Moore. If we were alone even for a moment, I made it my duvet to behave the more distantly and to multiply respectful attentions, having always in my mind's eye that picture of the girl shrinking and flaming in a blush, and in my heart more pity for her that I could depict in words. I was sorry enough for myself, I need not dwell on that, having fallen all my length and more than all my height in a few seconds, but indeed I was near as sorry for the girl, and sorry enough to be scarce angry with her saved by fits and starts. Her plea was good. She had been placed in an unfair position. If she had deceived herself and me, it was no more than was to have been looked for. And for another thing, she was now very much alone. Her father, when he was by, was rather a caressing parent, but he was very easily led away by his affairs and pleasures. Neglected her, without compunction or remark, spent his nights in taverns when he had the money, which was more often than I could at all account for, and even in the course of these few days, failed once to come to a meal, which Katrina and I were at last compelled to partake of without him. It was the evening meal, and I left immediately that I had eaten, observing I suppose that she would prefer to be alone. To which she agreed, and as strange as it may seem, I quite believed her. Indeed, I thought myself but an eyesore to the girl and a reminder of a moment's weakness that she now abhorred to think of. So she must sit alone in that room where she and I had been so merry, and in the blink of the chimney whose light had shown upon our many difficult and tender moments. There she must sit alone, and think of herself as a maid who had the most unmaidenly proffered her affections and had the same rejected. And in the meanwhile I would be alone some other place, and reading myself, whenever I was tempted to be angry, lessens upon human frailty and female delicacy. And altogether I suppose there were never two poor fools made themselves more unhappy in a greater misconception. As for James, he paid not so much heed to us, or to anything in nature, but his pocket, and his belly, and his own prattling talk. Before twelve hours were gone he had raised a small loan of me. Before thirty he had asked for a second, and been refused. Money and refusal he took with the same kind of high good nature. Indeed, he had an outside air of magnanimity that was very well fitted to impose upon a daughter, and the light in which he was constantly presented in his talk and the man's fine presence in great ways went together pretty harmoniously, so that a man that had no business with him, and either very little penetration or a furious deal of prejudice, might almost have been taken in. To me, after my first two interviews, he was as plain as print. I saw him to be perfectly selfish, with a perfect indecency in the same. And I would hearken to a swaggering talk of arms and of an old soldier and a poor Highland gentleman in the strength of my country and my friends, as I might to the babbling of a parrot. The odd thing was that I fancied he believed some part of it himself, or did at times. I think he was so false all through that he scarce knew when he was lying. And for one thing, his moments of dejection must have been wholly genuine. There were times when he would be the most silent, affectionate, clingy creature possible, holding Katrina's hand like a big baby, and begging of me not to leave if I had any love to him, of which indeed I had none, but all the more to his daughter. He would press and indeed beseech us to entertain him with our talk, a thing very difficult in the state of our relations, and again break forth impitiable regrets for his own land and friends or into Gaelic singing. This is one of the melancholy heirs of my native land, he would say. You may think it's strange to see a soldier weep, and indeed it is to make a near friend of you, says he. But the notes of this singing are in my blood, and the words come out from my heart. And when I mind upon my red mountains, the wild birds calling there, and brave streams of water running down, I would scarce think shame to weak before my enemies. Then he would sing again, and translate to me pieces of the song with a great deal of boggling and much expressed contempt against the English language. It says here, he would say, that the sun has gone down, and the battle is at an end, and the brave chiefs are defeated. And it tells them how the stars see them fleeing into strange countries or lying dead on the red mountain. And they will never more shout the call of battle, or wash their feet in the streams of the valley. But if you only had some of this language, you would weep also because of the words of it are beyond our expression. And it is mere mockery to tell you it in English. Well, I thought there was a good deal of mockery in the business, one way and another. And yet there was some feeling too for which I hated him, I think, the worst of all. And it used to cut me to the quick to see Katrina so much concerned for the old rogue, and weeping herself to see him weep, when I was sure of one half of his distress flowed from his last night's drinking in some tavern. There were times when I was tempted to lend him around some and see the last of him for good. But this would have been to see the last of Katrina as well, for which I was scarcely so prepared. And besides, it went against my conscience to squander my good money on one who was so little of a husband. I know at least that James was in one of his fits of gloom when I received three letters. The first was from Alan, offering to visit me in Leiden. The other two were out of Scotland and prompted by the same affair, which was the death of my uncle and my own complete ascension to my rights. Rankillers was, of course, wholly in the business view. Miss Grant was like herself, a little more witty than wise, full of blame to me for not having written, though how was I to write with such intelligence? And a rallying talk about Katrina, which had cut me to the quick to read in her very presence. For it was, of course, in my own rooms that I found them when I came to dinner, so that I was surprised out of my news in the very moment of reading it. This made a welcome diversion for all three of us, nor could any have foreseen the ill consequences that ensued. It was accident that brought the three letters the same day, and that gave them into my hand in the same room with James Moore. And of all the events that flowed from that accident, and which I might have prevented if I had held my tongue, the truth is they were preordained before Agricola came into Scotland, or Abraham set out upon his travels. The first that I opened was naturally Alan's, and what more natural than that I should comment on his design to visit me. But I observed James to sit up with an air of immediate attention. Here's that not Alan Brack that was suspected in the Appen accident, he inquired. I told him, I, it was the same. And he withheld me some time for my other letters, asking of our acquaintance, of Alan's manner of life in France, of which I knew very little, and further of his visits as now proposed. Ah, all we forfeited folk, hang a little together, he explained. And besides I know the gentleman, and though his dissent is not the thing, and indeed he has no true right to use the name of Stuart, he was very much admired in a day of drum and zee. He did there like a soldier of some that need not be named had done as well. The upshot need not have been so melancholy to remember. There were two that did their best that day, and it makes a bond between the pair of us, said he. I could scarce refrain from shooting out my tongue at him, and could almost have wished that Alan had been there to have inquired a little further into that mention of his birth. Though they tell me the same was indeed not wholly regular. Meanwhile I had opened misgrants, and could not withhold an exclamation. Katrina, I cried, forgetting the first time since her father was arrived, to address her by a handle. I am come into my kingdom fairly. I am the lair of Shah's indeed. My uncle is dead at last. She clapped her hands together, leaping from her seat. The next moment it must have come over both of us at once. What little cause of joy was left to either. And we stood opposite, staring on each other, sadly. But James showed himself a ready hypocrite. My daughter, says he, is this how my cousin learned you to behave? Mr. David has lost a new friend, and we should first condole him in his bereavement. Truth, sir, said I, turning him in a kind of anger, I can make no such great faces. His death is as blithe news as I ever got. Tis a good soldier's philosophy, says James. Tis the way of flesh, we must all go, all go. And if the gentleman was so far from your favor, why, very well. But we may at least congratulate you on your ascension to your estates. Nor can I say that either, I replied with the same heed. It is a good estate, what matters that to a lone man that has enough already. I had a good revenue before in my frugality, and but for the man's death, which gratifies me, shame to me, that must confess it, I see not how anyone is to be bettered by this change. Calm, calm, says he. You are more affected than you let on, or you would never make yourself out so lonely. Here are three letters, that means three that wish you well. And I could name two more here in this very chamber. I have known you not so very long, but Katrina, when we are alone, is never done with the singing of your praises. She looked up at him a little wild at that, and he slid off at once into another matter, the extent of my estate, which during the most of the dinner time he continued to dwell upon with interest. But it was to no purpose he dissembled. He had touched the matter with too gross a hand. And I knew what to expect. Dinner was scarce aid when he plainly discovered his designs. He reminded Katrina of an errand, and bit her attend to it. I do not see you should be one beyond the hour, yet, and friend David will be good enough to bear me company till you return. She made haste to obey him without words. I do not know if she understood, I believe not. But I was completely satisfied, and sat strengthening my mind for what should follow. The door had scarce clothes behind her departure, when the man leaned back in his chair and addressed me with the good affectation of easiness. Only the one thing betrayed him, and that was his face, which suddenly shone all over with fine points of sweat. I am rather glad to have a word alone with you, says he, because in our first interview there were some expressions you misapprehended, and I have long meant to set you right upon. My daughter stands beyond doubt. So do you, and I would make that good with my sword against all gainsayers. But, my dear David, this world is a sensorious place, as who should know it better than myself, who have lived ever since the days of my late departed father. God save him in a perfect spate of columnanese. We have to face to that. You and me have to consider that. We have to consider that.  To what effect, Mr. Drummond, said I, I would be obliged to you if you would approach your point. I, I, I, said he, laughing, like your character indeed, and what I most admire in it. But the point, my worthy fellow, is, sometimes in a little bit. He filled a glass of wine. Though between you and me that are such fast friends, it need not bother us long. The point I need scarcely tell you, is my daughter. And the first thing is that I have no thought in my mind of blaming you. In the unfortunate circumstances, what could you do else? Need, and I cannot tell. I thank you for that, I said pretty close upon my guard. I have besides studied your character, he went on. Your talents are fair. You seem to have a moderate competence, which does no harm. And one thing with another. I'm very happy to have to announce to you that I have decided on the latter of the two ways open. I'm afraid I am dull, said I. What ways are these? He bent his brows upon me, formidably, and uncrossed his legs. Why, sir, says he, I think I need scarce describe them into a gentleman of your condition, either that I should cut your throat, or that you should marry my daughter. You are pleased to be quite plain at last, said I. And I believe I have been plain from the beginning, Christy robustously. I am a careful parent, Mr. Balfour. But I thank God, a patient and deliberate man. There is many a father, sir, that would have hurstled you at once, either to the altar, or the field. My esteem for your character, Mr. Drummond, I interrupt it. If you have any esteem for me at all, I will beg of you to moderate your voice. It is quite needless to routed a gentleman in the same chamber with yourself, and lending you his best attention. Why, why very true, says he with an immediate change, and you must excuse the agitations of a parent. I understand you then, I continued, for I will take no note of your other alternative, which perhaps it was a pity you let fall. I understand you rather to offer me encouragement in case I should desire to apply for your daughter's hand. It is not possible to express my meaning better, and I see we shall do well together. That remains to be yet seen, said I. But so much I need to make no secret of it that I bear the lady you refer to, the most tender affection, and I could not fancy, even in a dream, a better fortune than to get her. I was sure of it. I felt certain of you, David, he cried, and reached out his hand to me. I put it by. You go too fast, Mr. Drummond, said I. There are conditions to be made, and there is a difficulty in the path, which I see not entirely how we shall come over. I have told you that upon my side, there is no objection to the marriage. But I have good reason to believe there will be much on the young ladies. That is all beside the mark, says he. I will engage for her acceptance. I think you forget, Mr. Drummond, said I, that even in dealing with myself you have been betrayed into two, three unpalatable expressions. I will have none such employed to the young lady. I am here to speak and think for the two of us.  He sat and glowered at me like one in doubt and a good deal of temper. So that is to be the way of it, I concluded. I will marry Ms. Drummond and that blithely if she is entirely willing. But if there be the least unwillingness as I have reason to fear, marry her will I never. Well, well, said he, this is a small affair. As soon as she returns, I will sound her a bit and hope to reassure you. But I cut it again. Not a finger of you, Mr. Drummond, or I cry off, and you can seek a husband to your daughter somewhere else, said I. It is I that am to be the only dealer and the only judge. I shall satisfy myself exactly. And none else shall any ways metal you the least of all upon my words, sir, he explained. And who are you to be the judge? The bridegroom, I believe, said I. This is to quibble, he cried. You turn your back upon the fact. The girl, my daughter has no choice left exercise. Her character is gone. And I ask your pardon, said I, but while this matter lies between her and you and me, that is not so. What security have I, he cried. Am I to lend my daughter's reputation depend upon a chance? You should have thought of all this long ago, said I, before you were so misguided as to lose her, and not afterwards, when it is quite too late. I refuse to regard myself as any way accountable for your neglect, and I will be browbeat by no man living. My mind is quite made up, and come what may, I will not depart from it a hair's breadth.  If she can satisfy me that she is willing to this step, then I will make it. If she cannot, I will not. He leaped out of his chair like a man stung. I can spy your maneuver, he cried. You would work upon her to refuse. Maybe I, and maybe no, said I. That is the way it is to be, whatever. And if I refuse, crazy, then, Mr. Drummond, I will have to come to the throat-cutting, said I. What, with the size of the man, in his great length of arm, in which he came near rivaling his father, and his reputed skill at weapons, I did not use this word without trepidation, to say nothing at all of the circumstance that he was Katrina's father. But I might have spared myself alarms. From the porness of my lodging, he does not seem to have remarked his daughter's dresses, which were indeed all equally new to him, and from the fact that I had shown myself a versatile land, he had embraced a strong idea of my poverty. The sudden news of my estate convinced him of his error, and he had made but the one bound of it on this fresh venture, to which he was now so wedded, that I believe he would have suffered anything rather than fall to the alternative of fighting. A little while longer he continued dispute with me until I hit upon a word that silenced him. If I find you so adverse to let me see the lady by herself, said I, I must suppose you have very good grounds to thank me in the right about her unwillingness. He gabbled some kind of an excuse. But all this is very exhausting to both of our tempers, I added, and I think we would do better to preserve a judicious silence. The which we did until the girl returned, and I must suppose would have cut a very ridiculous figure had there been any there to view us. I opened the door to Katrina and stopped her on the threshold. Your father wishes us to take our walk, said I. She looked to James Moore, who nodded, and at that, like a trained soldier, she turned to go with me. We took one of our old ways where we had gone often together and been more happy than I can tell of in the past. I came a half-step behind so that I could watch her unobserved. The knocking of her little shoes upon the way sounded extraordinary pretty and sad. And I thought at a strange moment that I should be so near both ends of it at once, and walk in the midst between two destinies. I could not tell whether I was hearing these steps for the last time, or whether the sound of them was to go in and out with me till death shed us part. She avoided even to look at me, only walked before her like one who had a guess of what was coming. I saw I must speak soon before my courage was run out, but where to begin I knew not. In this painful situation, when the girl was as good as forced into my arms and had already besought my forbearance, any excess of pressure must have seemed indecent. Yet to avoid it wholly would have been a very cold-like appearance. Between these extremes I stood helpless and could have bit my fingers. So that when at last I managed to speak at all, it may be said I spoke at random. Catrina, said I, I am in a very painful situation, or rather so we are both, and I would be a good deal obliged to you if you would promise to let me speak through first of all, and not to interrupt me till I have done. She promised me that simply. Well, said I. This is that I have got to say is very difficult, and I know very well I have no right to be saying it. After what passed between the two of us last Friday I have no manner of right. We have got so ravelled up, and all by my fault, that I know very well the least I could do is just to hold my tongue, which was what I intended fully, and there was nothing further from my thoughts than to have troubled you again. But, my dear, it has become merely necessary, and in no way by it. You see, this estate of mine has fallen in, which makes of me a rather better match, and that the business would not have quite the same ridiculous light appearance that it would be for, besides which it's opposed that our affairs have got so much ravelled up, as I was saying, that it would be better to let them be by the way they are. In my view, this part of the thing is vastly exaggerate, and if I were you I would not wear two thoughts on it. Only it's right that I should mention the same, because there's no doubt it has some influence on James Moore. Then I think we were none so unhappy when we dwelt together in this town before. I think we did pretty well together. If you would look back, my dear, I will look neither back nor forward, she interrupted, tell me the one thing. This is my father's doing. He approves of it, said I. He approved that I should ask your hand in marriage, and was going on again with somewhat more of an appeal upon her feelings, but she marked me not, and struck into the midst. He told you to, she cried, it is no sense denying it. You said yourself that there was nothing further from your thoughts. He told you to. He spoke of it first, if that is what you mean, I began. She was walking ever the faster and looking faint in front of her. But at this she made a little noise in her head, and I thought she would have run. Without which I went on, after what you said last Friday, I would never have been so troublesome as make the offer. But when he as good as asked me, what was I to do? She stopped and turned around upon me. Well, it is refused at all events, she cried. And there will be an end of that. And she began again to walk forward. I suppose I could expect no better, said I, but I think you might try to be a little kind to me for the last end of it. I see not why you should be harsh. I have loved you very well, Katrina. No harm that I should call you so for the last time. I have done the best that I could manage. I am trying the same still, and only vexed that I could do no better. It is a strange thing to me that you can take any pleasure to be hard to me. I am not thinking of you, she said. I am thinking of that man, my father. Well, and that way too, said I, I can be of use to you that way too. I will have to be. It is very needful, my dear, that we should consult about your father, for the way this talk is gone, an angry man will be James Moore. She stopped again. It is because I am disgraced, she asked. That is what he is thinking, I replied. But I have told you already to make not of it. It will be all one to me, she cried. I prefer to be disgraced. I did not know very well what to answer and stood silent. There seemed to be something working in her bosom after that last cry. Presently she broke out. And what is the meaning of all this? Why is all this shame loungered on my head? How could you derrick David Balfour? My dear, said I, what else was I to do? I am not your dear, she said, and I defy you to be calling me these words. I am not thinking of my words, said I. My heart bleeds for you, Miss Strummond. Whatever I may say, be sure you have my pity in your difficult position. But there is just the one thing that I wish you would bear in view. If it was only long enough to discuss it quietly, for there is going to be a calling's hangy when we two get home. Take my word for it. It will need the two of us to make this matter end in peace. I, said she, there sprang a patch of red in either for cheeks. Was he for fighting you? said she. Well, he was that, said I. She gave a dreadful kind of laugh. At all events it is complete, she cried. And then turning on me. My father and I are a fine pair, said she. But I am thanking the good God that will be somebody worse than what we are. I am thanking the good God that he has let me see you so. There will never be the girl maid that will not scorn you. I had borne a good deal pretty patiently. But this was over the mark. You have no right to speak to me like that, said I. What have I done but to be good to you or try to be? And here is my repayment. Oh, it is too much. She kept looking at me with a hateful smile. Coward, said she. The word in your throat and in your father's, I cried. I have dared him this day already in your interest. I will dare him again, the nasty polecat. Little I care which of us should fall. Come, said I, back to the house with us. Let us be done with it. Let me be done with the whole Highland crew of you. You will see what you think when I am dead.  Oh, smile away, cried I. I have seen your bonny father smile on the wrong side this day. Not that I mean he was afraid. Of course I had it hastily, but he preferred the other way of it. What is this? she asked. When I offered to draw with him, said I. You offered to draw upon James more? she cried. And I did so, said I, and found him backward enough. Or how would we be here? There is a meaning upon this, said she. What is it you are meaning? He was to make you take me, I replied. And I would not have it. I said you should be free, and I must speak with you alone. Little I supposed it would be such a speaking. And what if I refuse? said he. Then it must come to throat-cutting, says I. For I will no more have a husband forced on that young lady than what I would have a wife forced upon myself. These were my words. They were a friend's words. Bonnily I have paid for them. Now you have refused me of your own clear free will. And there lives no father in the Highlands or out of them they can force on this marriage. I will see that your wishes are respected. I will make the same my business as I have all through, but think you might have that decency as to affect some gratitude. Deed, and I thought you knew me better. I have not behaved quite well to you, but that was weakness. And to think me a coward, and such a coward as that home my lass, there was a stab for the last of it. Davy, how would I gas, she cried. Oh, this is a dreadful business, me and mine. She gave a kind of a wretched cry at the word. Me and mine are not fit to speak to you. Oh, I could be kneeling down to you in the street. I could be kissing your hands for forgiveness. I will keep the kisses I have got from you already, cried I. I will keep the ones I wanted, and that were something worth. I will not be kissed in penitence. What can you be thinking of this miserable girl, says she. What I am trying to tell you all this while, said I, that you had best leave me alone, whom you can make no more unhappy if you try it, and turn your attention to James Moore, your father, with whom you are like to have a queer pyrrhan to wind. Oh, then I must be going out into this world alone with such a man, she cried, and seemed to catch herself with a great effort. But trouble yourself no more for that, said she. He does not know what kind of nature is in my heart. He will pay me dear for this day of it. Dear, dear, will he pay? She turned and began to go home, and I to accompany her, at which she stopped. I will be going alone, said she. It is alone I must be seeing him. Some little time I raged about the streets, and told myself I was the worst used lad in Christendom. Anger choked me. It was all very well for me to breathe deep. It seemed that there was not enough air about laden to supply me, and I thought I would have burst like a man at the bottom of the sea. I stopped and laughed at myself at a street corner a minute together, laughing out loud, so as a passenger looked at me which brought me to myself. Well, I thought, I have been a gull in a niny and a soft tommy long enough. Time it was done. Here is a good lesson to have nothing to do with that accursed sex that was the ruin of the man in the beginning, and will be so to the end. God knows I was happy enough before I ever saw her. God knows I can be happy enough again when I have seen the last of her. That seemed to me the chief affair, to see them go. I dwelled upon the idea fiercely, and presently slipped on in a kind of malevolence, to consider how very poorly they were likely to fare when Davey Balfour was no longer to be their milk-cow, at which to my very own great surprise the disposition of my mind turned bottom up. I was still angry, I still hated her, and yet I thought I owed it to myself that she should suffer nothing. This carried me home again at once, for I found the mails drawn out and ready fastened by the door, and the father and daughter with every mark upon them of a recent disagreement. Katrina was like a wooden doll.  As soon as I came in, the girl looked at him with a steady, clear, dark look that might have been followed by a blow. It was a hint that was more contemptuous than a command, and I was surprised to see James Moore accept it. It was plain he had had a master talking to, and I could see there must be more of the devil in the girl than I had guessed, and more good humor about the man than I had given him credit for. He began, at least, calling me Mr. Balfour, and plainly speaking from a lesson, but he had gotten not very far, for at the first pompous swell of his voice, Katrina cut in. I will tell you what James Moore is meaning, said she. He means we have come to you, beggar folk, and have not behaved you very well, and we are ashamed of our ingratitude and ill behavior. We are now wanting to go away and be forgotten, and my father will have guided his gear so ill that we cannot even do that unless you will give us some more alms, for that is what we are, at an event, beggar folk, and soreners. By your leave, Miss Drummond, said I, I must speak to your father by myself. She went into her own room and shut the door without a word or a look. You must excuse her, Mr. Balfour, says James Moore. She has no delicacy.  Now, Mr. Drummond, I have kept the run of your affairs more closely than you bargained for. I know you had money of your own when you were borrowing mine. I know you have had more since you were here in Layton, though you concealed it even from your daughter. I bid you beware. I will stand no more baiting, he broke out.  What kind of a damn trade is this to be apparent? I have had expressions used on me, there he broke off. Sir, this is the heart of a soldier and a parent. He went on again, laying his hands on his bosom, outraged in both characters, and I bid you beware. If you would but have let me finish, says I, you would have found that I spoke for your advantage. My dear friend, he cried, I know I might have relied upon the generosity of your character. Man, will you let me speak, said I. The fact is I cannot win to find out if you are rich or poor. But it is my idea that your means, as they are mysterious in their source, so are they something insufficient in amount, and I do not choose your daughter to be lacking.  However, I believe in your way, you do still care something for your daughter after all, and I must just be doing with that ground of confidence such as it is. Whereupon I arranged with him that he was to communicate with me, as he was whereabouts in Katrina's welfare, and consideration of which I was to serve him a small stipend. He heard the business out with a great deal of eagerness, and when it was done, my dear fellow, my dear son, he cried out, this is more like yourself than any of it yet. I will serve you with a soldier's faithfulness, let me hear no more of it, says I. You have got me to that pitch that the bare name of soldier rises on my stomach. Our traffic is settled. I am now going forth, and will return in one half hour when I expect to find my chambers purged of you. I gave them good measure of time.  Perhaps an hour went by, the sun had gone down, a little wisp of a new moon was following it across the scarlet sunset. Already there were stars in the east, and in my chambers, when I at last entered them, the night lay blue. I lit a taper and reviewed the rooms. In the first there remained nothing so much as to a wake of memory of those who were gone. But in the second, in the corner of the floor, I spied a little heap that brought my heart into my mouth. She had left behind in her departure all that she had ever had of me. It was the blow that I felt sorest, perhaps because it was the last, and I fell upon that pile of clothing and behaved myself more foolishly than I care to tell of. Late in the night, in a strict frost, and to my teeth chattering, I came again by some portion of my manhood and considered with myself. The sight of these poor frocks and ribbons and her shifts and the clocked stockings were not to be endured, and if I were to recover any constancy of mind, I saw I must be rid of them ere the morning. It was my first thought to have made a fire and burned them, but my disposition has always been opposed to wastery, for one thing, and for another, to have burned these things that she had worn so close upon her body seemed in the nature of a cruelty. There was a corner cupboard in the chamber, there I determined to bestow them, the which I did, and made it a long business, folding them with very little skill indeed, but the more care, and sometimes dropping them with my tears. All the heart was gone out of me. I was weary as though I had run miles, and soar like one beaten. When, as I was folding a kerchief that she wore often at her neck, I observed there was a corner neatly cut from it. It was a kerchief of a very pretty hue on which I had frequently remarked, and once that she had it on I remembered telling her by way of a banter that she wore my colors. There came a glow of hope, and like a tide of sweetness in my bosom, in the next moment I was plunged back in a fresh despair. For there was the corner crumpled in a knot, and cast down by itself in another part of the floor. But when I argued with myself I grew more hopeful. She had cut that corner off in some childish freak that was manifestly tender, that she had cast it away again was little to be wondered at, and I was inclined to dwell more upon the first than upon the second, and to be more pleased that she had ever conceived the idea of that keepsake than concerned because she had flung it from her at an hour of natural resentment. CHAPTER XXIX Altogether then I was scarce so miserable the next days, but what I had many hopeful and happy snatches, threw myself with a good deal of constancy upon my studies, and made out to endure the time till Alan should arrive, or I might hear word of Katrina by the means of James Moore. I had altogether three letters in the time of our separation. One was to announce their arrival in the town of Dunkirk in France, from which place James shortly after started alone upon a private mission. This was to England and to see Lord Holderness, and it has always been a bitter thought that my good money helped pay the charges of the same. But he has need of a long spoon who soups with the devil. Or James Moore, either. During this absence the time was to fall due for another letter, and as the letter was the condition of his stipend he had been so careful as to prepare it beforehand and leave it with Katrina to be dispatched. The fact of our correspondence aroused her suspicions, and he was no sooner gone than she had burst the seal. What I received began accordingly in the writing of James Moore. My dear sir, your esteemed favour came to hand duly, and I have to acknowledge the enclosure according to agreement. It shall be all faithfully expended on my daughter, who was well, and desires to be remembered to her dear friend. I farmed her in rather a melancholy disposition, but trust in the mercy of God to see her re-established. Our manner of life is very much alone, but we solace ourselves with the melancholy tunes of our native's mountains, and by walking up the margin of the sea that lies next to Scotland. It was better days with me when I lay with five wounds upon my body on the field of Gladzmere. I found employment here in the horrors of a French nobleman where my experience is valued. But my dear sir, the wages are so exceedingly unsuitable that I would be ashamed to mention them, which makes your remittances the more necessary to my daughter's comfort, though I dare say the sight of old friends would be still better. My dear sir, your affectionate, obedient servant, James McGregor, drummed. Now it began again in the hand of Katrina. Do not be believing him. It is all lies together. C. M. D. Not only did she add this post-script, but I think she must have come near suppressing the letter, for it came long after date and was closely followed by the third. And the time betwixt them, Alan had arrived, and made another life to me with his merry conversation. I had been presented to his cousin of the Scots dutch, a man that drank more than I could have thought possible, and was not otherwise of interest. I had been entertained to many jovial dinners and given some myself, all with no great change upon my sorrow. And we, too, by which I mean Alan and myself, and not at all the cousin, had discussed a good deal the nature of my relations with James Moore and his daughter. I was naturally diffident to give particulars, and this disposition was not always lessened by the nature of Alan's commentary upon those I gave.  There's few people that has had more experience than Alan Breck, and I could never call to mind to have heard tell of a lassie like this one of yours. The way that you tell it, the things fair impossible, you must have made a terrible hash of the business, David. There are wiles that I am of the same mind, said I. The strange thing is that she seemed to have a kind of fancy for her, too, said Alan. The biggest kind, Alan, said I, and I think I'll take it to my grave with me. Where did he beat me, whatever, he would conclude. I showed him the letter with Katrina's post-script, and here again, he cried, impossible to deny a kind of decency to this Katrina and sense for by. As for James Moore, the man's as boss is a drum. He's just a wame and a wane words, though I can never deny he fought reasonably well at Glensmere, and it's true what he says there about the five wounds. But the loss of him is that the man's boss. You see, Alan, said I, it goes against the grain with me to leave the maid in such poor hands. You couldn't, we'll find poorer, he admitted. But what are you going to do with it? It's this way about a man and a woman, you see, David. The women folk have got no kind of reason to them. Either they like the man and that all goes fine, or else they just detest him and he may spare your breath. He can do nothing. There's just the two sets of them, them that would sell their coats for ye, and them that would never look the road you're on. That's what there is to women, and you seem to be such a gemarral that you cannot tell the tain for the tither. Well, and I'm afraid that's true for me, said I, and yet there's nothing easier, cried Alan. I could easily learn ye the science of the thing, but ye seem to me to be born blind, and that's where the difficulty comes in. And can you, no help me, I asked. You that are so clever at the trade? You see, David, I wouldn't hear, said he. I'm like a field officer that has nobody but blind men for scouts and eclairs. And what would he can? But it sticks in my mind that you'll have made some kind of borschtle, and if I was you I would have a try at her again. Would ye so, man Alan, said I? I wouldn't end it, said he. The third letter came to my hand while we were deep in some such talk, and it will be seen how Pat had fell to the occasion. James professed to be in some concern upon his daughter's health, which I believe was never better, abounded in kind expressions to myself, and finally proposed that I should visit them at Dunkirk. You will now be enjoying the society of my old comrade, Mr. Stewart, he wrote. Why not accompany him so far in his return to France? I have something very particular for Mr. Stewart's ear, and at any rate I would be pleased to meet him with an old fellow soldier and one so mentalist himself. As for you, my dear sir, my daughter and I would be proud to receive our benefactor whom we regard as a brother and a son. The French nobleman has proved a person of the most filthy avarice of character, and I have been necessitate to leave the Harris. You will find us, in consequence, a little poorly lodged in the aburge of a man vazine on the dunes. But the situation is caller, and I make no doubt, but we might spend some very pleasant days when Mr. Stewart and I could recall our services, and you and my daughter diverge yourselves in a manner more befitting your age. I beg at least that Mr. Stewart would come here. My business with him opens a very wide door. Why does the man want with me? cried Alan when he had read. What he wants with you is clear enough. It's Siller. But what can he want with Alan Breck? Oh, it'll be just an excuse, said I. He is still after this marriage, which I wish from my heart that we could bring about. And he asks you because he thinks I would be less likely to come wanting you. Well, I wish that I can't, said Alan. Him and me were never on ways back. We used to grin at each other like a pair of pipers. Something for my ear, quote he. I'll maybe have something for his hindering before we're through with it. Dodd, I'm thinking would be a kind of a diversionment to gang, and see what he'll be after. For by I could see your lassie then. What say ye, Davy? Will ye ride with Alan? You may be sure. I was not backward. And Alan's furlough, running towards an end, we set forth presently upon this joint adventure. It was near dark of a January day when we rode, at last, into the town of Dunkirk. We left our horses at the post, and found a guide to Brazin's inn, which lay beyond the walls. Night was quite fallen, so that we were the last to leave that fortress, and heard the doors of a close behind us as we passed the bridge. On the other side there lay a lighted suburb, which we thrittled afro-while, then turned into a dark lane, and presently found ourselves waiting in the night among deep sand where we could hear a bullring of the sea. We traveled in this fashion for some while, following our conductor mostly by the sound of his voice, and I'd begin to think he was perhaps misleading us when we came to the top of a small bray, and there appeared out of the darkness a dim light in a window. Voila, l'abriage à Brazin, said the guide. Alan smacked his lips. Anan-col-lon-le-bet, said he, and they thought by his tone he was not wholly pleased. A little after, and we stood in the lower story of that house, which was all in the one apartment, with the stairs leading to the chambers at the side, benches and tables by the wall, the cooking fire at one end of it, and shelves of bottles and the cellar trap at the other. Here Brazin, who was an ill-looking big man, told us the Scottish gentleman who was gone abroad he knew not where, but the young lady was above, and he would call her down to us. I took from my breast that kerchief wanting the corner, and knotted it about my throat. I could hear my heart go, and Alan patting me on the shoulder with some of his laughable expressions I could scarce refrain from a sharp word. But the time was not long to wait. I heard her step pass overhead, and saw her on the stair. This she descended very quietly, and greeted me with a pale face and a certain seeming of earnestness or uneasiness in her manner that extremely dashed me. My father, James Moore, will be here soon. He will be very pleased to see you, she said, and then of a sudden her face flamed, her eyes lightened, and the speech stopped upon her lips, and now made sure she observed the kerchief. It was only for a breath that she was discomposed, but me thought it was with a new animation that she turned to welcome Alan. And this will be his friend, Alan Breck, she cried. Many is the dozen times I will have heard him tell of you, and I love you already for all your bravery and goodness. Well, well, says Alan, holding her hand in his and viewing her, and so this is the young lady at the last of it. David, you're an awful par hand of a description. I do not know that ever I heard him speak so straight to people's hearts. The sound of his voice was like a song. What? Will he have been describing me? She cried. Little else of it since I ever came out of France, as he, for by a bit of it specimened one Niger in Scotland in a shaw of wood by silver mills. But cheer up, my dear, you're bonnier than what he said. And now there's one thing sure. You and me are to be a pair of friends. I'm a kind of a henchman to David here. I'm like a tyke at his heels. And whatever he cares for, I've got to care for too. And by the Holy Aaron, they've got to care for me. So now you can see what way you stand with Alan Breck, and you'll find you'll hardly lose on the transaction. He's no very bonny, my dear, but he's loyal to them he loves. I thank you for my heart for your good words, said she. I have that honor for a brave, honest man that I cannot find any to be answering with. Using traveller's freedom, we spared to wait for James Moore, and sat down to meet we threesome. Alan had Katrina sit by him and wait upon his wants. He made her drink first out of his glass. He surrounded her with continual kind gallantries, and yet never gave me the most small occasion to be jealous. And he kept the talk so much in his own hand, and that it in so merry a note that neither sheen or I remembered to be embarrassed. If any had seen us there, it must have been supposed that Alan was the old friend, and I the stranger. Indeed, I had often caused to love and to admire the man, but I never loved or admired him better than that night. And I could not help remarking to myself what I was sometimes rather in danger forgetting, that he had not only much experience in life, but in his own way a great deal of natural ability besides. As for Katrina, she seemed quite carried away.  And I own although I was well pleased, yet I was a little sad also, and thought myself a dull, stockish character in comparison of my friend, and very unfit to come into a young maid's life, and perhaps ding down her gaiety. But if that was like to be my part, I found that at least I was not alone in it, for James Moore returning suddenly, the girl was changed into a piece of stone. Through the rest of that evening, until she made an excuse and slipped to bed, I kept an eye upon her without cease, and I can bear testimony that she never smiled, scarcely spoke, and looked mostly on the board in front of her, so that I really marveled to see so much devotion, as it used to be, changed into the very sickness of hate. Of James Moore it is unnecessary to say much. You know the man already, what there was to know of him, and I am weary of writing out his lies. Enough that he drank a great deal, and told us very little that was to any possible purpose. As for the business with Allen, that was to be reserved for the morrow and his private hearing. It was the more easy to put off, because Allen and I were pretty weary with four days' ride, and sat not very late after Katrina. We were soon alone in the chamber where we to make shift with a single bed.  He muckalass, said he. What do you mean by that? I cried. Mean. What do I mean?  Again I begged him to speak out. Well, it's this of it, said he. I told you there were two kinds of women, them that would sell their shifts for ye and the others. Just you try for yourself, my bonny man. But what's that nipkin at your craig? I told him. I thought it was something there about, said he. Nor would he say another word, though I besieged him along with importunities.  It was strange, after the wind rose, for at first it was dead calm, to see the turning and flowing of each other of these great sails behind the hillock. Scarce any road came by there, but a number of footways traveled among the bents in all directions up to Mr. Basin's door. The truth is he was a man of many trades, not any one of them honest, and the position of his inn was the best of his livelihood. Smugglers frequented it. Political agents and forfeited persons bound across the water came there to await their passages. And I dare say there was worse behind, for a whole family might have been butchered in that house and nobody the wiser. I slept little and ill. Long ere it was day, I had slipped from beside my bed-fellow and was warming myself at the fire or walking to and fro before the door. Don broke mighty sullen. But a little after sprang up a wind out of the west, which burst the clouds, let through the sun, and set the mill to the turning. There was something of spring in the sunshine, or else it was in my heart. And the appearing of the great sails, one after another from behind the hill, diverted me extremely. At times I could hear a creak of the machinery, and by half past eight of the day, and I thought this dreary desert place was like a paradise. For all which, as the day drew on and nobody came near, I began to be aware of an easiness that I could scarce explain. It seemed there was trouble afoot. The sails of the windmill, as they came up and went down over the hill, were like persons spying. And outside of all fancy, it was surely a strange neighborhood and house for a young lady to be brought to dwell in. At breakfast, which we took late, it was manifest that James Moore was in some kind of danger or perplexity. Manifest that Allen was alive to the same, and watched him close. And this appearance of duplicity upon the one side, and vigilance upon the other, held me on life coals. The meal was no sooner over than James seemed to come begin to make apologies. He had an appointment of a price of nature in the town. It was with a French nobleman, he told me. And we would please excuse him till about noon. Meanwhile, he carried his daughter aside to the far end of the room, where he seemed to speak rather earnestly, and she to listen with much inclination. I am caring less and less about this man James, said Allen. There's something no right with the man James. And I shouldn't wonder, but what Allen Breck would give an eye to him this day. I would like fine to see on French nobleman, David. And I dare say you could find an employee to yourself that would be to spare at the Lassie for some news of your affair. Just tell it to her plainly. Tell her you're a muckalass at the offset, and then, if I were you and ye could do a natural, I would just mint to her I was in some kind of danger. A women folk likes that. I can't a lie, Allen. I can't a do a natural, says I mocking him. And more the fool you, says he. Then you can tell her I recommended it. That'll set her to the laughing, and I wouldn't wonder what that was the next best. But see to the better of them. And if I didn't feel just sure of the Lassie and that she was awful pleased and chief with Allen, I would think there was some kind of hocus pocus about you. And is she so pleased with you then, Allen? I asked.  I'm one that can tell that she does. She thinks a heap of Allen. And truth, I am thinking a good deal of him myself. And with your permission, shaws, I'll be getting a wee yon't among the bents so that I can see which way James goes. One after another went till I was left alone beside the breakfast table. James to Dunkirk, Allen dogging him, Katrina up the stairs to her own chamber. I could very well understand how she should avoid to be alone with me. Yet was none the better pleased for it with that, and bent my mind to entrap her into an interview before the men returned. Upon the whole the best appeared to me to do like Allen. If I was out of view among the sandhills, the fine morning would decoy her forth, and once I had her in the open I could please myself. No sooner said than done. Nor was I long under the build of a hillock before she appeared at the end door, looked here and there, and, seeing nobody, set out by a path that led directly seaward, and by which I followed her. I was in no haste to make my presence known. The further she went I made sure of the longer hearing to my suit. And the ground of being all sandy it was easy to follow her unheard. The path rose and came at last to the head of a knoll. Thence I had a picture for the first time of what a desolate wilderness that in stood hidden in, where it was no man to be seen, nor any house of man except Jess Brazen's and the Windmill. Only a little further on the sea appeared and two or three ships upon it, pretty as a drawing. One of these was extremely close in to be so great a vessel, and I was aware of a shock of new suspicion when I recognized the trim of the seahorse. What should an English ship be doing so near into France? Why was Allen brought into her neighborhood, and that in a place so far from any hope of rescue? And was it by accident or by design that the daughter of James Moore should walk that day to the seaside? Presently I came forth behind her in the front of the Sandhills and above the beach. It was here long and solitary, with a manna war's boat drawn up about the middle of the prospect and an officer in charge and pacing the sands like one who waited. I sat down where the rough grass a good deal covered me and looked for what should follow. Katrina went straight to the boat. The officer met her with civilities. They had ten words together. I saw a letter changing hands, and there was Katrina returning. At the same time, as if this were all her business on the continent, the boat shoved off and was headed for the seahorse. But I observed the officer to remain behind and disappear among the bends. I liked this business little, and the more I considered it, liked it less. Was it Allen the officer was seeking, or Katrina? She drew near with her head down, looking constantly on the sand, and made so tender a picture that I could not bear to doubt her innocence. The next she raised her face and recognized me, seemed to hesitate, and then came on again, but more slowly, and I thought with a changed color. And at that thought, all else that was upon my bosom, fears, suspicions, the care of my friend's life was clean swallowed up, and I rose to my feet and stood waiting her in a drunkenness of hope. I gave her a good morning as she came up, which she returned with a good deal of composure. Will you forgive my having followed you? said I. I know you are always meaning kindly, she replied, and then with a little outburst. But why will you be sending money to that man? It must not be. I never sent it for him, said I, but for you, as you know well. And you have no right to be sending it to either one of us, she said. David, it is not right. It is not. It is all wrong, said I, and I pray God he will help this dull fellow, if it be at all possible, to make it better. Katrina, this is no kind of life for you to lead, and I ask your pardon for the word, but young man is no fit father to take care of you. Do not be speaking of him, even, was her cry. And I need speak of him no more. It is not of him I am thinking. Oh, be sure of that, says I. I think of the one thing. I have been alone now this long time in laden, and when I was by way of at my studies, still I was thinking of that. Next, Alan came and I went among soldier men to their big dinners. And still I had the same thought. And it was the same before when I had her there beside me. Katrina, do you see this napkin at my throat? You cut a corner from it once and then cast it from you. There are your colors now. I wear them in my heart. My dear, I cannot be wanting you. Oh, try to put up with me. I stepped before her, and so as to intercept her walking on. Try to put up with me, I was saying. Try and bear with me a little. Still she had never the word. And a fear began to rise in me like a fear of death. Katrina, I cried, gazing at her hard. Is it a mistake again? Am I quite lost? She raised her face to me, breathless. Do you want me, Davy? Truly? She said, and I could scarce hear her say it. I do that, said I. Oh, sure you know it. I do that. I have nothing left to give or to keep back, she said. I was all yours from the first day if you would have had a gift of me. She said, this was on the summit of a bray. The place was windy and conspicuous. We were to be seen there even from the English ship. But I kneeled down before her in the sand and embraced her knees and burst into that storm of weeping that I thought it must have broken me. All thought was wholly beaten from my mind by the vehemence of my discomposure. I knew not where I was. I had forgot why I was happy. Only I knew she stooped and I felt her cherish me with her face and bosom and heard her words out of a whirl. Davy, she was saying, oh Davy, is this what you think of me? Is it so that you were caring for poor me? Oh Davy, Davy! With that she wept also, and our tears were commingled in a perfect gladness. It might have been ten in the day before I came to a clear sense of what a mercy had befallen me, and sitting over against her with her hands in mine, gazed in her face and laughed out loud for pleasure like a child, and called her foolish and kind names. I have never seen the place that looks so pretty as those bent by Dunkirk, and the windmill sails as they bobbed over the knoll for like a tune of music. I know not how much longer we might have continued to forget all else besides ourselves had I not chanced upon a reference to her father which brought us to reality. My dear friend, I was calling her again and again, rejoicing to summon up the past by the sound of it, and to gaze across on her and to be a little distant. My little friend, now you are mine altogether, mine for good, my little friend, and that man's no longer at all. There came a sudden whiteness in her face. She plucked her hands from mine. Davy, take me away from him, she cried. There's something wrong. He's not true. There will be something wrong. I have a dreadful tear here in my heart. What will he be wanting at all events with that kingship? What will this word be saying? And she held the letter forth. My mind misgives me. It will be some ill to Alan. Open it, Davy. Open it and see. I took it and looked at it and shook my head. No, said I. It goes against me. I cannot open a man's letter. Not to save your friend? She cried. I cannot tell, said I. I think not. If I was only sure. And you have it to break the seal? Said she. I know it, said I. But the thing goes against me. Give it here, said she. And I will open it myself. No, you neither, said I. You least of all. It concerns your father and his honour, dear, which we are both misdoubting. No question but the place is dangerous like in the English ship being here, and your father having word from it, and young officer the state ashore. He would not be alone, either. There must be more along with him. I dare say we are spied upon this minute. I, no doubt, the letter should be opened, but somehow not by you nor me. I was about thus far with it, and my spirit very much overcome with a sense of danger and hidden enemies when I spied Alan. Come back again from following James, and walking by himself among the Sandheels. He was in his soldier's coat, of course, in mighty fine. But I could not avoid to shudder when I thought how little that jacket would avail him, if he were once caught, and flung in a skiff, and carried on board of the sea horse, a deserter, a rebel, and now a condemned murderer. There, said I, there is the man that has the best right to open it, or not, as he thinks fit. With which I called upon his name, and we both stood up to be a mark for him. If it is so, if it be more disgrace, will you can bear it? She asked, looking upon me with a burning eye. I was asked something of the same question when I had seen you, but the once said I. What do you think I answered? That if I liked you, as I thought I did, and oh, but I like you better, I would marry you at his gallows foot. The blood rose in her face. She came close up and pressed upon me, holding my hand. And it was so that we awaited Alan. He came with one of his queer smiles. What was I telling you, David? Says he. There is a time for all things, Alan, said I. And this time is serious. How have you sped? You can speak out plain before this friend of ours. I have been upon a fool's errand, said he. I doubt we have done better than you, then, said I. And at least here is a great deal of matter that you must judge of. Do you see that? I went on pointing to the ship. That is the seahorse, Captain Palliser. I should kid her, too, says Alan. I had fag enough with her when she was stationed in the fourth. But what hares the man to come so close? I will tell you why he came there first, said I. It was to bring this letter to James Moore. Why he stops here now that it's delivered. What it's likely to be about. Why there's an officer hiding in the vents. And whether or not it's probable that he's alone. I would rather you consider for yourself. I letter to James Moore, said he. The same, said I. Well, and I can tell you more than that, said Alan. For the last night when you were fast asleep, I heard the man colliguing in someone in the French. And then the door of that inn to be opened and shut. Alan, cried I. You slept all night and I am here to prove it. I, but I would never trust Alan whether he was asleep or waking, says he. But the business looks bad. Let's see the letter. I gave it him. Katrina, says he. You have to excuse me, my dear, but there's nothing less than my fine bones upon the cast of it. And I'll have to break this seal. It is my wish, said Katrina. He opened it, glanced it through and flung his hand in the air. That stink and brocks, says he, and crammed the paper in his pocket. Here, let's get our things together. This place is fair death to me. And he began to walk towards the inn. It was Katrina that spoke the first. He has sold you, she asked. Sold me, my dear, said Alan. But thanks to you and Davy, I can jink him yet. Just let me win upon my horse, he added. Katrina must come with us, said I. She can have no more traffic with that man. She and I are to be married. At which she pressed my hand to her side. Are you there with it, said Alan, looking back. The best stage work that ever either of you did. And I'm bound to say, my dotty, you make a real bonny couple. The way that he was following brought us close in by the windmill, where I was aware of a man's in seamen's trousers, who seemed to be spying from behind it. Only, of course, we took him in the rear. See, Alan. Which each, said he. This is my affairs. The man was, no doubt, a little deafened by the clattering of the mill, and we got up close before he noticed. Then he turned, and we saw he was a big fellow with a mahogany face. I think, sir, says Alan, that you speak the English. Known monseur, says he, with an incredible bad accent. Known monseur, cries Alan, mocking him. Is that how they learn you French on the seahorse? Ye muckle gutsy ash. Here's a Scott's boot, dear English hurdy's. And bounding on him before he could escape, he dealt the man a kick that laid him on his nose. Then he stood with a savage smile, and watched him scramble to his feet, and scamper off into the sandhills. But at high time I was clear of these empty vents, said Alan, and continued his way at top speed, and we still following to the back door of Bayeson's inn. A chance that, as we entered by the one door, we came face to face with James Moore, entering by the other. Here, said I to Katrina, quick, upstairs with you and make your packets. This is no fit scene for you. And, meanwhile, James and Alan had met in the midst of the long room. She passed them close by to reach the stairs, and after she was some way up I saw her turn and glance at them again, though without pausing. Indeed, they were worth looking at. Alan wore, as they met, one of his best appearances of courtesy and friendliness, yet with something eminently warlike. So the James smelled danger off of the man, as folks smell fire in a house, and stood prepared for accidents. Time pressed. Alan's situation in that solitary place and his enemies about him might have daunted Caesar. It made no change in him, and he was in his old spirit of mockery and daffing that he began the interview. A broad good day to thee again, Mr. Drummond, said he.  Why, the thing being private and rather of a long story, says James, I think it will keep very well till we have eaten. I am none so sure of that, said Alan. It sticks in my mind just either now or never, for the fact is me and Mr. Belfour here have gotten a line, and we're thinking of the road. I saw a little surprise in James' eye, but he held himself stoutly. I have but the one word to say to Curio of that, said he, and that is the name of my business. Say it then, says Alan. Halt! What mines for navy? It is a matter that would make us both rich men, said James. Do you tell me that? cries Alan. I do, sir, said James. The plain fact is that it is Clooney's treasure. No, cried Alan. Have you got word of it? I can replace Mr. Stewart and can take you there, said James. This crowns all, says Alan. Well, and I'm glad I came to Dunkirk, and so this was our business, was it? Havards, I'm thinking, that is the business, sir, said James. Well, well, says Alan. And then in the same token of childlike interest, it has nothing to do with us sewers, then, he asked. With what? says James. For the lad that I have just kicked the bottom of, behind young Windmill, pursued Alan. Oh, man, have done with your lies. I have palaces later here in my pouch. Your buy with it, James Moore. You can never show your face again with decent folk. James was taken all aback with it. He stood a second, motionless and white, then swelled with living anchor.  Ye get it, swine, cried Alan, and hit him a sounding buffin' of in the mouth, and the next wink of time their blaze clashed together. At the very sound of the bare steel, I instinctively leaped back from the collision. The next I saw James parried a thrust so nearly that I thought him killed, and it lowered upon my mind that this was the girl's father, and in a manner almost my own, and I drew and ran in to sever them. Get back, Davey. Are you daft?  You're glad to be on your own head, then. I beat their blades down twice. I was knocked reeling against the wall. I was back again, betwixt them. They took no heed of me, thrusting at each other like two furies. I could never think how I avoided being stabbed myself, or stabbing one of those two rotomants, and the whole business turned about me like a piece of a dream, in the midst of which I heard a great cry from the stair, and Katrina sprang before her father. In the same moment, the point of my sword encountered something yielding. It came back to me reddened. I saw the blood flow on the girl's kerchief, and stood sick. Would you be killing him before my eyes, and me his daughter after all? she cried. My dear, I have done with him, said Alan, and went and sat on a table, with his arms crossed and the sword naked in his hands. Oh, while she stood before the man, panting with big eyes, then swung suddenly about and faced him. Be gone, was her word.  I am a daughter of Alpen.  Be gone!  The two stood facing, she with a red stain on her kerchief, he white as a rag. I knew him well enough. I knew it must have pierced him in the quick place of his soul. But he betook himself to bravado air. Why, says he, sheathing his sword, though still with a bright eye on Alan, if this brawl is over, I will but get my porch undo. There goes no poke-manty out of this place, except with me, says Alan. Sir, cried James. James more, says Alan. This lady daughter of yours is to marry my friend Davy upon which account I let you pack with a hail carcass. But take you my advice of it, and get that carcass out of harm's way, or late. Little as you suppose it, there are limits to my temper. Be damned, sir. But my money's there, said James. I am vexed about that too, says Alan, with his funny face. But now you see, it's mine. And then, with more gravity, be you advised James more, you leave this house. James seemed to cast about for a moment in his mind, but it's to be thought he had enough of Alan's swordsmanship, for he suddenly put off his hat to us, and, with a face like one of the damned, bet us farewell in a series, with which he was gone. At the same time a spell was lifted from me. Katrina, I cried. It was me, it was my sword. Oh, are you much hurt? I know it, Davy. I am loving you for the pain of it. It was done defending that bad man, my father. See, she said, and showed me a bleeding scratch. See, you have made a man of me now. I will carry a wound like an old soldier. Joy that she should be so little hurt, and the love of her brave nature supported me. I embraced her. I kissed the wound. And I am to be out of the kissing. Me that never lost a chance, says Alan, and putting me aside and taking Katrina by either shoulder. My dear, he said, you're a true daughter of Alpen. By all accounts he was a very fine man, and he may be proud of you. If ever I was to get married, it's the morrow of you that I would be seeking for a mother to my sons. And I bearers a king's name and speak the truth. He said it with a serious heat of admiration that was honey to the girl and threw her to me. It seemed to wipe us clean of all James Moore's disgraces. And the next moment he was just himself again. And now by your leave, my dotties, said he, this is a very bony, but Alan Breckl be a wee thing near to the gallows that he's caring for. And, Dodd, I think this is a grand place to be leaving. The word recalled us to some wisdom. Alan ran upstairs and returned with our saddlebags and James Moore's portmandu. He picked up Katrina's bundle where she had dropped it on the stair, and we were setting forth out of that dangerous healths when Basin stopped the way with cries and gesticulations. He had whipped under a table when the swords were drawn, but now he was as bold as a lion. There was his bill to be settled. There was a chair broken. Alan had set among his dinner things. James Moore had fled. Here, I cried, pay yourself and flung him down some Louis doors, for I thought it was no time to be accounting. He sprang upon that money and we passed him by and ran forth into the open. Upon three sides of the house were Seaman hasting and closing in. A little nearer to us, James Moore waved his hat as if to hurry them, and right behind him, like some foolish person holding up his hands with the sails of the windmill turning. Alan gave but one glance and laid himself down to run. He cared a great weight in James Moore's portmandu, but I think he would as soon have lost his life as cast away that booty which was his revenge. And he ran so that I was distressed to follow him and marveled and exalted to see the girl bounding at my side. As soon as we appeared, they cast off all disguise upon the other side, and the Seaman pursued us with shouts and viewholas. We had a start of some two hundred yards, and they were but bandy-legged tarpolins after all, that could not hope to better us in such an exercise. I suppose they were armed, but did not care to use their pistols on French ground. And as soon as I perceived that we not only held our advantage, but drew a little away, I began to feel quite easy of the issue. For all that which, it was a hot, brisk bit of work, so long as it lasted. Don Kirk was still far off, and when we popped over a knoll and found a company of the garrison marching on the other side in some maneuver, I could very well understand the word that Alan had. He stopped running at once and mopping his brow.  End of Chapter 30 Conclusion No sooner were we safe within the walls of Dunkirk than we held a very necessary Council of War on our position. We had taken a daughter from her father at the sword's point. Any judge would give her back to him at once, and by all likelihood clap me and Alan into jail. And though we had an argument upon our side in Captain Pelser's letter, neither Katrina nor I were very keen to be using it in public. Upon all accounts it seemed the most prudent to carry the girl to Paris to the hands of her own chieftain, McGregor of Bohaldi, who would be very willing to help his kinswoman on the one hand, and not at all anxious dishonor James upon the other. We made but a slow journey of it up, for Katrina was not so good at the riding as the running, and had scarce sat in the saddle since the forty-five. But we made it out at last, reached Paris early of a Sabbath morning, and made all speed under Alan's guidance to find Bohaldi. He was finally lodged, and lived in a good style, having a pension on the Scots fund as well as private means, greeted Katrina like one of his own house, and seemed altogether very civil and discreet, but not particularly open. We asked of the news of James Moore. Bar James, said he, and shook his head and smiled, so that I thought he knew further than he meant to tell. Then we showed him Palliser's letter, and he drew a long face at that. Poor James, he said again, where there are worse folk than James Moore, too, but this is the redful bad. Tat-tat, he must have forgot himself entirely. This is a most undesirable letter. But for all that, gentlemen, I cannot see what we would want to make it public for. It's an ill bird that fowls its own nest, and we are all Scots folk in our Highland. Upon this we all agreed, save perhaps Alan, and still more upon the question of our marriage, which Bohaldi took in his own hands as though there had been no such person as James Moore, and gave Katrina away with very pretty manners and agreeable compliments in French.  I thought I saw by my wife's face what way her inclination pointed. And let us go see him then, said I. If it is your pleasure," said Katrina. These were early days. He was lodged in the same quarter of the city with his chief in a great house upon a corner, and we were guided up to the gerard where he lay, by the sound of Highland piping. It seemed he had just borrowed a set of them from Bohaldi to amuse his sickness, though he was no such hand as was his brother Robb, he made good music of the kind. And it was strange to observe the French folk crowding on the stairs, and some of them laughing. He lay propped in a pallet. The first look of him I saw he was upon his last business, and doubtless this was a strange place for him to die in. But even now I find I can scarce well upon his end with patience. Doubtless Bohaldi had prepared him. He seemed to know we were married, complimented us on the event, and gave us a benediction like a patriarch. I have been never understood, said he. I forgive you both without an afterthought. After which he spoke for all the world in his own manner, was so obliging as to play as a tuner to upon his pipes, and borrowed a small sum before I left. I could not trace even a hint of shame in any part of his behavior. But he was great upon forgiveness. It seemed always fresh to him. I think he forgave me every time we met. And when, after some four days, he passed away in a kind of odor of affectionate sanctity, I could have torn my hair out for exasperation. I had him buried. But what to put upon his tomb was quite beyond me, till at last I considered the date would look best alone. I thought it wiser to resign all thoughts of Layton, where we had appeared once as brother and sister, and it would certainly look strange to return in a new character. Scotland would be doing for us. And thither, after I had recovered that which I had left behind, we sailed in a low country ship. And now, Miss Barbara Balfour, to set the ladies first, and Mr. Alan Balfour, Younger of Shaw's, here is the story brought fairly to an end. A great many of the folk that took part in it you will find, if you think well, that you have seen and spoken with. Alison Hastie in Lime Kilns was the last that walked your cradle when you were too small to know of it, and walked abroad with you in the policy when you were bigger. That very fine great lady, that is Miss Barbara's name Mama, is no other than the same mis-grant that made so much a fool of David Balfour in the house of the Lord Advocate. And I wonder whether you remember a little, lean, lively gentleman in a scratch wig and a wraparascal that came to Shaw's very late of a dark night, and whom you were awakened out of your beds and brought down to the dining-hall to be presented to, by the name of Mr. Jamison? Or has Alan forgotten what he did at Mr. Jamison's request, a most disloyal act for which by the letter of the law he might be hanged, no less than drinking the king's health, across the water. These were strange doings in a good wig-house, but Mr. Jamison is a man privileged, and might set fire to my corn-barne, and the name they know him by now in France is the Chevalier Stuart. As for David and Katrina, I shall watch you pretty close in the next days, and see if you are so bold as to be laughing at Papa and Mama. It is true we were not so wise as we might have been, and made a great deal of sorrow out of nothing, but you will find as you grow up that even the most artful Miss Barbara, and even the valiant Mr. Alan, will be not so very much wiser than their parents, for the life of man upon this world of ours is a funny business. They talk of angels weeping, but I think they must more often to be holding their sides as they look on, and there was one thing I determined to do when I began this long story, and that was to tell out everything as it befell. End of Conclusion End of Katrina by Robert Louis Stevenson