David Balfour: Being Memoirs Of His Adventures At Home And Abroad, The Second Part: In Which Are Set Forth His Misfortunes Anent The Appin Murder; His Troubles With Lord Advocate Grant; Captivity On The Bass Rock; Journey Into Holland And France; And Singular Relations With James More Drummond Or Macgregor, A Son Of The Notorious Rob Roy, And His Daughter CatrionaStevenson, Robert Louis
History
David Balfour: Being Memoirs Of His Adventures At Home And Abroad, The Second Part: In Which Are Set Forth His Misfortunes Anent The Appin Murder; His Troubles With Lord Advocate Grant; Captivity On The Bass Rock; Journey Into Holland And France; And Singular Relations With James More Drummond Or Macgregor, A Son Of The Notorious Rob Roy, And His Daughter Catriona
Stevenson, Robert Louis
Historical fiction; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
At breakfast, which we took late, it was manifest that James More was in
some danger or perplexity; manifest that Alan 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 live coals. The meal was no
sooner over than James seemed to come to a resolve, and began to make
apologies. He had an appointment of a private nature in the town (it was
with the 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
without much inclination.
"I am caring less and less about this man James," said Alan. "There's
something no right with the man James, and I wouldnae wonder but what
Alan Breck would give an eye to him this day. I would like fine to see
yon French nobleman, Davie; and I daresay you could find an employ to
yoursel, and that would be to speer at the lassie for some news of your
affair. Just tell it to her plainly--tell her ye're a muckle ass at the
off-set; and then, if I were you, and ye could do it naitural, I would
just mint to her I was in some kind of a danger; a' weemenfolk likes
that."
"I cannae lee, Alan, I cannae do it naitural," says I, mocking him.
"The more fool you!" says he. "Then ye'll can tell her that I
recommended it; that'll set her to the laughing; and I wouldnae wonder
but what that was the next best. But see to the pair of them! If I
didnae feel just sure of the lassie, and that she was awful pleased and
chief with Alan, I would think there was some kind of hocus-pocus about
yon."
"And is she so pleased with ye, then, Alan?" I asked.
"She thinks a heap of me," says he. "And I'm no like you: I'm one that
can tell. That she does--she thinks a heap of Alan. And troth! I'm
thinking a good deal of him mysel; and with your permission, Shaws, I'll
be getting a wee yont amang the bents, so that I can see what way James
goes."
One after another went, till I was left alone beside the breakfast
table; James to Dunkirk, Alan dogging him, Catriona 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 with it for that, and
bent my mind to entrap her to an interview before the men returned. Upon
the whole, the best appeared to me to do like Alan. If I was out of view
among the sand hills, the fine morning would decoy her out; and once I
had her in the open, I could please myself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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