St. Ives: Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in EnglandStevenson, Robert Louis
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St. Ives: Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England
Stevenson, Robert Louis
French -- England -- Fiction; Prisoners of war -- Fiction
It was impossible at such a distance that I could be sure, but the
thought was sufficient, and I craned out of the embrasure to follow them
as long as possible. To think that such emotions, that such a concussion
of the blood, may have been inspired by a chance resemblance, and that I
may have stood and thrilled there for a total stranger! This distant
view, at least, whether of Flora or of some one else, changed in a moment
the course of my reflections. It was all very well, and it was highly
needful, I should see my uncle; but an uncle, a great-uncle at that, and
one whom I had never seen, leaves the imagination cold; and if I were to
leave the castle, I might never again have the opportunity of finding
Flora. The little impression I had made, even supposing I had made any,
how soon it would die out! how soon I should sink to be a phantom memory,
with which (in after days) she might amuse a husband and children! No,
the impression must be clenched, the wax impressed with the seal, ere I
left Edinburgh. And at this the two interests that were now contending
in my bosom came together and became one. I wished to see Flora again;
and I wanted some one to further me in my flight and to get me new
clothes. The conclusion was apparent. Except for persons in the
garrison itself, with whom it was a point of honour and military duty to
retain me captive, I knew, in the whole country of Scotland, these two
alone. If it were to be done at all, they must be my helpers. To tell
them of my designed escape while I was still in bonds, would be to lay
before them a most difficult choice. What they might do in such a case,
I could not in the least be sure of, for (the same case arising) I was
far from sure what I should do myself. It was plain I must escape first.
When the harm was done, when I was no more than a poor wayside fugitive,
I might apply to them with less offence and more security. To this end
it became necessary that I should find out where they lived and how to
reach it; and feeling a strong confidence that they would soon return to
visit me, I prepared a series of baits with which to angle for my
information. It will be seen the first was good enough.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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