Catriona

Page 113

. . . if it is not so much . .

. . Not that you will be caring! But I would not have you think of

me too hard. It was true what you said to me, that I was too young

to be advised, and I am hoping you will remember I was just a

child. I would not like to lose your friendship, at all events."

She began this very pale; but before she was done, the blood was in

her face like scarlet, so that not her words only, but her face and

the trembling of her very hands, besought me to be gentle. I saw,

for the first time, how very wrong I had done to place the child in

that position, where she had been entrapped into a moment's

weakness, and now stood before me like a person shamed.

"Miss Drummond," I said, and stuck, and made the same beginning

once again, "I wish you could see into my heart," I cried. "You

would read there that my respect is undiminished. If that were

possible, I should say it was increased. This is but the result of

the mistake we made; and had to come; and the less said of it now

the better. Of all of our life here, I promise you it shall never

pass my lips; I would like to promise you too that I would never

think of it, but it's a memory that will be always dear to me. And

as for a friend, you have one here that would die for you."

"I am thanking you," said she.

We stood awhile silent, and my sorrow for myself began to get the

upper hand; for here were all my dreams come to a sad tumble, and

my love lost, and myself alone again in the world as at the

beginning.

"Well," said I, "we shall be friends always, that's a certain

thing. But this is a kind of farewell, too: it's a kind of a

farewell after all; I shall always ken Miss Drummond, but this is a

farewell to my Catriona."

I looked at her; I could hardly say I saw her, but she seemed to

grow great and brighten in my eyes; and with that I suppose I must

have lost my head, for I called out her name again and made a step

at her with my hands reached forth.

She shrank back like a person struck, her face flamed; but the

blood sprang no faster up into her cheeks, than what it flowed back

upon my own heart, at sight of it, with penitence and concern. I

found no words to excuse myself, but bowed before her very deep,

and went my ways out of the house with death in my bosom.

I think it was about five days that followed without any change. I

saw her scarce ever but at meals, and then of course in the company

of James More. If we were alone even for a moment, I made it my

devoir to behave the more distantly and to multiply respectful

attentions, having always in my mind's eye that picture of the girl

shrinking and flaming in a blush, and in my heart more pity for her

than I could depict in words. I was sorry enough for myself, I

need not dwell on that, having fallen all my length and more than

all my height in a few seconds; but, indeed, I was near as sorry

for the girl, and sorry enough to be scarce angry with her save by

fits and starts. Her plea was good; she had been placed in an

unfair position; if she had deceived herself and me, it was no more

than was to have been looked for.

And for another thing she was now very much alone. Her father,

when he was by, was rather a caressing parent; but he was very easy

led away by his affairs and pleasures, neglected her without

compunction or remark, spent his nights in taverns when he had the

money, which was more often than I could at all account for; and

even in the course of these few days, failed once to come to a

meal, which Catriona and I were at last compelled to partake of

without him. It was the evening meal, and I left immediately that

I had eaten, observing I supposed she would prefer to be alone; to

which she agreed and (strange as it may seem) I quite believed her.

Indeed, I thought myself but an eyesore to the girl, and a reminder

of a moment's weakness that she now abhorred to think of.

Robert Louis Stevenson
Classic Literature Library

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