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 curtsey. 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. 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.