Adventure stories; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
“No, but I ought to warn you,” I began; and then bethought me 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 on 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
preached, 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 being not 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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