Adventure stories; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
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 More. If we were alone even for a moment, I made it my devoir 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 than 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 save 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 easy 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 Catriona 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 supposed she would
prefer to be alone; to which she agreed and (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 that chimney whose light had shone upon
our many difficult and tender moments. There she must sit alone, and
think of herself as of a maid who had 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) lessons upon human frailty and female delicacy. And
altogether I suppose there were never two poor fools made themselves
more unhappy in a greater misconception.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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