He was finely lodged, and lived in a
good style, having a pension on the Scots Fund, as well as private
means; greeted Catriona like one of his own house, and seemed
altogether very civil and discreet, but not particularly open. We
asked of the news of James More. "Poor James!" said he, and shook
his head and smiled, so that I thought he knew further than he
meant to tell. Then we showed him Palliser's letter, and he drew a
long face at that.
"Poor James!" said he again. "Well, there are worse folk than
James More, too. But this is dreadful bad. Tut, tut, he must have
forgot himself entirely! This is a most undesirable letter. But,
for all that, gentlemen, I cannot see what we would want to make it
public for. It's an ill bird that fouls his own nest, and we are
all Scots folk and all Hieland."
Upon this we all agreed, save perhaps Alan; and still more upon the
question of our marriage, which Bohaldie took in his own hands, as
though there had been no such person as James More, and gave
Catriona away with very pretty manners and agreeable compliments in
French. It was not till all was over, and our healths drunk, that
he told us James was in that city, whither he had preceded us some
days, and where he now lay sick, and like to die. I thought I saw
by my wife's face what way her inclination pointed.
"And let us go see him, then," said I.
"If it is your pleasure," said Catriona. These were early days.
He was lodged in the same quarter of the city with his chief, in a
great house upon a corner; and we were guided up to the garret
where he lay by the sound of Highland piping. It seemed he had
just borrowed a set of them from Bohaldie to amuse his sickness;
though he was no such hand as was his brother Rob, he made good
music of the kind; and it was strange to observe the French folk
crowding on the stairs, and some of them laughing. He lay propped
in a pallet. The first look of him I saw he was upon his last
business; and, doubtless, this was a strange place for him to die
in. But even now I find I can scarce dwell upon his end with
patience. Doubtless, Bohaldie had prepared him; he seemed to know
we were married, complimented us on the event, and gave us a
benediction like a patriarch.
"I have been never understood," said he. "I forgive you both
without an afterthought;" after which he spoke for all the world in
his old manner, was so obliging as to play us a tune or two upon
his pipes, and borrowed a small sum before I left.
I could not trace even a hint of shame in any part of his
behaviour; but he was great upon forgiveness; it seemed always
fresh to him. I think he forgave me every time we met; and when
after some four days he passed away in a kind of odour of
affectionate sanctity, I could have torn my hair out for
exasperation. I had him buried; but what to put upon his tomb was
quite beyond me, till at last I considered the date would look best
alone.
I thought it wiser to resign all thoughts of Leyden, where we had
appeared once as brother and sister, and it would certainly look
strange to return in a new character. Scotland would be doing for
us; and thither, after I had recovered that which I had left
behind, we sailed in a Low Country ship.
And now, Miss Barbara Balfour (to set the ladies first), and Mr.
Alan Balfour younger of Shaws, here is the story brought fairly to
an end. A great many of the folk that took a part in it, you will
find (if you think well) that you have seen and spoken with.
Alison Hastie in Limekilns was the lass that rocked your cradle
when you were too small to know of it, and walked abroad with you
in the policy when you were bigger. That very fine great lady that
is Miss Barbara's name-mamma is no other than the same Miss Grant
that made so much a fool of David Balfour in the house of the Lord
Advocate. And I wonder whether you remember a little, lean, lively
gentleman in a scratch-wig and a wraprascal, that came to Shaws
very late of a dark night, and whom you were awakened out of your
beds and brought down to the dining-hall to be presented to, by the
name of Mr.