A little while longer he continued to dispute with me, until I hit
upon a word that silenced him.
"If I find you so averse to let me see the lady by herself," said
I, "I must suppose you have very good grounds to think me in the
right about her unwillingness."
He gabbled some kind of an excuse.
"But all this is very exhausting to both of our tempers," I added,
"and I think we would do better to preserve a judicious silence."
The which we did until the girl returned, and I must suppose would
have cut a very ridiculous figure had there been any there to view
us.
CHAPTER XXVIII--IN WHICH I AM LEFT ALONE
I opened the door to Catriona and stopped her on the threshold.
"Your father wishes us to take our walk," said I.
She looked to James More, who nodded, and at that, like a trained
soldier, she turned to go with me.
We took one of our old ways, where we had gone often together, and
been more happy than I can tell of in the past. I came a half a
step behind, so that I could watch her unobserved. The knocking of
her little shoes upon the way sounded extraordinary pretty and sad;
and I thought it a strange moment that I should be so near both
ends of it at once, and walk in the midst between two destinies,
and could not tell whether I was hearing these steps for the last
time, or whether the sound of them was to go in and out with me
till death should part us.
She avoided even to look at me, only walked before her, like one
who had a guess of what was coming. I saw I must speak soon before
my courage was run out, but where to begin I knew not. In this
painful situation, when the girl was as good as forced into my arms
and had already besought my forbearance, any excess of pressure
must have seemed indecent; yet to avoid it wholly would have a very
cold-like appearance. Between these extremes I stood helpless, and
could have bit my fingers; so that, when at last I managed to speak
at all, it may be said I spoke at random.
"Catriona," said I, "I am in a very painful situation; or rather,
so we are both; and I would be a good deal obliged to you if you
would promise to let me speak through first of all, and not to
interrupt me till I have done."
She promised me that simply.
"Well," said I, "this that I have got to say is very difficult, and
I know very well I have no right to be saying it. After what
passed between the two of us last Friday, I have no manner of
right. We have got so ravelled up (and all by my fault) that I
know very well the least I could do is just to hold my tongue,
which was what I intended fully, and there was nothing further from
my thoughts than to have troubled you again. But, my dear, it has
become merely necessary, and no way by it. You see, this estate of
mine has fallen in, which makes of me rather a better match; and
the--the business would not have quite the same ridiculous-like
appearance that it would before. Besides which, it's supposed that
our affairs have got so much ravelled up (as I was saying) that it
would be better to let them be the way they are. In my view, this
part of the thing is vastly exagerate, and if I were you I would
not wear two thoughts on it. Only it's right I should mention the
same, because there's no doubt it has some influence on James More.
Then I think we were none so unhappy when we dwelt together in this
town before. I think we did pretty well together. If you would
look back, my dear--"
"I will look neither back nor forward," she interrupted. "Tell me
the one thing: this is my father's doing?"
"He approves of it," said I. "He approved I that I should ask your
hand in marriage," and was going on again with somewhat more of an
appeal upon her feelings; but she marked me not, and struck into
the midst.
"He told you to!" she cried. "It is no sense denying it, you said
yourself that there was nothing farther from your thoughts.