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.
"I know it," said I, "but the thing goes against me."
"Give it here," said she, "and I will open it myself."
"Nor you neither," said I. "You least of all. It concerns your
father, and his honour, dear, which we are both misdoubting. No
question but the place is dangerous-like, and the English ship
being here, and your father having word from it, and yon officer
that stayed ashore. He would not be alone either; there must be
more along with him; I daresay we are spied upon this minute. Ay,
no doubt, the letter should be opened; but somehow, not by you nor
me."
I was about thus far with it, and my spirit very much overcome with
a sense of danger and hidden enemies, when I spied Alan, come back
again from following James and walking by himself among the sand-
hills. He was in his soldier's coat, of course, and mighty fine;
but I could not avoid to shudder when I thought how little that
jacket would avail him, if he were once caught and flung in a
skiff, and carried on board of the Seahorse, a deserter, a rebel,
and now a condemned murderer.
"There," said I, "there is the man that has the best right to open
it: or not, as he thinks fit."
With which I called upon his name, and we both stood up to be a
mark for him.
"If it is so--if it be more disgrace--will you can bear it?" she
asked, looking upon me with a burning eye.
"I was asked something of the same question when I had seen you but
the once," said I. "What do you think I answered? That if I liked
you as I thought I did--and O, but I like you better!--I would
marry you at his gallows' foot."
The blood rose in her face; she came close up and pressed upon me,
holding my hand: and it was so that we awaited Alan.
He came with one of his queer smiles. "What was I telling ye,
David?" says he.
"There is a time for all things, Alan," said I, "and this time is
serious. How have you sped? You can speak out plain before this
friend of ours."
"I have been upon a fool's errand," said he.
"I doubt we have done better than you, then," said I; "and, at
least, here is a great deal of matter that you must judge of. Do
you see that?" I went on, pointing to the ship. "That is the
Seahorse, Captain Palliser."
"I should ken her, too," says Alan. "I had fyke enough with her
when she was stationed in the Forth. But what ails the man to come
so close?"
"I will tell you why he came there first," said I. "It was to
bring this letter to James More. Why he stops here now that it's
delivered, what it's likely to be about, why there's an officer
hiding in the bents, and whether or not it's probable that he's
alone--I would rather you considered for yourself."
"A letter to James More?" said he.
"The same," said I.
"Well, and I can tell ye more than that," said Alan. "For the last
night, when you were fast asleep, I heard the man colloguing with
some one in the French, and then the door of that inn to be opened
and shut."
"Alan!" cried I, "you slept all night, and I am here to prove it."
"Ay, but I would never trust Alan whether he was asleep or waking!"
says he. "But the business looks bad. Let's see the letter."
I gave it him.
"Catriona," said he, "you have to excuse me, my dear; but there's
nothing less than my fine bones upon the cast of it, and I'll have
to break this seal."
"It is my wish," said Catriona.