The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 11 — John Shaqi
The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 11Stevenson, Robert Louis
History
The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 11
Stevenson, Robert Louis
Adventure stories; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
"Weel, it's neither your affair nor mine's," says the first.
And they parted, the one upon his errand, and the other back into the
house.
This looked as ill as possible. I was scarce gone and they were sending
already for James More, to whom I thought Mr. Simon must have pointed
when he spoke of men in prison and ready to redeem their lives by all
extremities. My scalp curdled among my hair, and the next moment the
blood leaped in me to remember Catriona. Poor lass! her father stood to
be hanged for pretty indefensible misconduct. What was yet more
unpalatable, it now seemed he was prepared to save his four quarters by
the worst of shame and the most foul of cowardly murders--murder by the
false oath; and, to complete our misfortunes, it seemed myself was
picked out to be the victim.
I began to walk swiftly and at random, conscious only of a desire for
movement, air, and the open country.
CHAPTER VII
I MAKE A FAULT IN HONOUR
I came forth, I vow I know not how, on the _Lang Dykes_.[12] This is a
rural road which runs on the north side over-against the city. Thence I
could see the whole black length of it tail down, from where the castle
stands upon its crags above the loch, in a long line of spires and
gable-ends and smoking chimneys, and at the sight my heart swelled in my
bosom. My youth, as I have told, was already inured to dangers; but such
danger as I had seen the face of but that morning, in the midst of what
they call the safety of a town, shook me beyond experience. Peril of
slavery, peril of shipwreck, peril of sword and shot, I had stood all of
these without discredit; but the peril there was in the sharp voice and
the fat face of Simon, properly Lord Lovat, daunted me wholly.
I sat by the lake-side in a place where the rushes went down into the
water, and there steeped my wrists and laved my temples. If I could have
done so with any remains of self-esteem, I would now have fled from my
foolhardy enterprise. But (call it courage or cowardice, and I believe
it was both the one and the other) I decided I was ventured out beyond
the possibility of a retreat. I had outfaced these men, I would continue
to outface them; come what might, I would stand by the word spoken.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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