Catriona went straight to the boat; the officer met her with civilities; they had ten words together; I saw a letter changing hands;and there was Catriona returning. At the same time, as if this were all her business on the Continent, the boat shoved off and was headed for the SEAHORSE. But I observed the officer to remain behind and disappear among the bents.
I liked the business little; and the more I considered of it, liked it less. Was it Alan the officer was seeking? or Catriona? She drew near with her head down, looking constantly on the sand, and made so tender a picture that I could not bear to doubt her innocence. The next, she raised her face and recognised me; seemed to hesitate, and then came on again, but more slowly, and I thought with a changed colour. And at that thought, all else that was upon my bosom - fears, suspicions, the care of my friend's life - was clean swallowed up; and I rose to my feet and stood waiting her in a drunkenness of hope.
I gave her "good morning" as she came up, which she returned with a good deal of composure.
"Will you forgive my having followed you?" said I.
"I know you are always meaning kindly," she replied; and then, with a little outburst, "but why will you be sending money to that man! It must not be.""I never sent it for him," said I, "but for you, as you know well.""And you have no right to be sending it to either one of us," she said.
"David, it is not right."
"It is not, it is all wrong," said I, "and I pray God he will help this dull fellow (if it be at all possible) to make it better. Catriona, this is no kind of life for you to lead; and I ask your pardon for the word, but yon man is no fit father to take care of you.""Do not be speaking of him, even!" was her cry.
"And I need speak of him no more; it is not of him that I am thinking, O, be sure of that!" says I. "I think of the one thing. I have been alone now this long time in Leyden; and when I was by way of at my studies, still I was thinking of that. Next Alan came, and I went among soldier-men to their big dinners; and still I had the same thought. And it was the same before, when I had her there beside me.
Catriona, do you see this napkin at my throat! You cut a corner from it once and then cast it from you. They're YOUR colours now; I wear them in my heart. My dear, I cannot be wanting you. O, try to put up with me!"I stepped before her so as to intercept her walking on.
"Try to put up with me," I was saying, "try and bear me with a little."Still she had never the word, and a fear began to rise in me like a fear of death.
"Catriona," I cried, gazing on her hard, "is it a mistake again? Am Iquite lost?"
She raised her face to me, breathless.
"Do you want me, Davie, truly?" said she, and I scarce could hear her say it.
"I do that," said I. "O, sure you know it - I do that.""I have nothing left to give or to keep back," said she. "I was all yours from the first day, if you would have had a gift of me!" she said, This was on the summit of a brae; the place was windy and conspicuous, we were to be seen there even from the English ship; but I kneeled down before her in the sand, and embraced her knees, and burst into that storm of weeping that I thought it must have broken me. All thought was wholly beaten from my mind by the vehemency of my discomposure. Iknew not where I was. I had forgot why I was happy; only I knew she stooped, and I felt her cherish me to her face and bosom, and heard her words out of a whirl.
"Davie," she was saying, "O, Davie, is this what you think of me! Is it so that you were caring for poor me! O, Davie, Davie!"With that she wept also, and our tears were commingled in a perfect gladness.
It might have been ten in the day before I came to a clear sense of what a mercy had befallen me; and sitting over against her, with her hands in mine, gazed in her face, and laughed out loud for pleasure like a child, and called her foolish and kind names. I have never seen the place that looked so pretty as those bents by Dunkirk; and the windmill sails, as they bobbed over the knowe, were like a tune of music.
I know not how much longer we might have continued to forget all else besides ourselves, had I not chanced upon a reference to her father, which brought us to reality.
"My little friend," I was calling her again and again, rejoicing to summon up the past by the sound of it, and to gaze across on her, and to be a little distant - "My little friend, now you are mine altogether; mine for good, my little friend and that man's no longer at all."There came a sudden whiteness in her face, she plucked her hands from mine.
"Davie, take me away from him!" she cried. "There's something wrong;he's not true. There will be something wrong; I have a dreadful terror here at my heart. What will he be wanting at all events with that King's ship? What will this word be saying?" And she held the letter forth. "My mind misgives me, it will be some ill to Alan. Open it, Davie - open it and see."I took it, and looked at it, and shook my head.
"No," said I, "it goes against me, I cannot open a man's letter.""Not to save your friend?" she cried.
"I cannae tell," said I. "I think not. If I was only sure!""And you have but to break the seal!" said she.