LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

acquaintancy, I plunged the deeper in.

      “I have been sitting with one who was in the same case with yourself,” said I, “and I think he will be one of your friends. They called him Robin Oig.”

      “Did ye so?” cries she. “Ye met Rob?”

      “I passed the night with him,” said I.

      “He is a fowl of the night,” said she.

      “There was a set of pipes there,” I went on, “so you may judge if the time passed.”

      “You should be no enemy, at all events,” said she. “That was his brother there a moment since, with the red soldiers round him. It is him that I call father.”

      “Is it so?” cried I. “Are you a daughter of James More’s?”

      “All the daughter that he has,” says she: “the daughter of a prisoner; that I should forget it so, even for one hour, to talk with strangers!”

      Here one of the gillies addressed her in what he had of English, to know what “she” (meaning by that himself) was to do about “ta sneeshin.” I took some note of him for a short, bandy-legged, red-haired, big-headed man, that I was to know more of to my cost.

      “There can be none the day, Neil,” she replied. “How will you get ‘sneeshin,’ wanting siller! It will teach you another time to be more careful; and I think James More will not be very well pleased with Neil of the Tom.”

      “Miss Drummond,” I said, “I told you I was in my lucky day. Here I am, and a bank-porter at my tail. And remember I have had the hospitality of your own country of Balwhidder.”

      “It was not one of my people gave it,” said she.

      “Ah, well,” said I, “but I am owing your uncle at least for some springs upon the pipes. Besides which, I have offered myself to be your friend, and you have been so forgetful that you did not refuse me in the proper time.”

      “If it had been a great sum, it might have done you honour,” said she; “but I will tell you what this is. James More lies shackled in prison; but this time past they will be bringing him down here daily to the Advocate’s… .”

      “The Advocate’s!” I cried. “Is that … ?”

      “It is the house of the Lord Advocate Grant of Prestongrange,” said she. “There they bring my father one time and another, for what purpose I have no thought in my mind; but it seems there is some hope dawned for him. All this same time they will not let me be seeing him, nor yet him write; and we wait upon the King’s street to catch him; and now we give him his snuff as he goes by, and now something else. And here is this son of trouble, Neil, son of Duncan, has lost my fourpenny piece that was to buy that snuff, and James More must go wanting, and will think his daughter has forgotten him.”

      I took sixpence from my pocket, gave it to Neil, and bade him go about his errand. Then to her, “That sixpence came with me by Balwhidder,” said I.

      “Ah!” she said, “you are a friend to the Gregara!”

      “I would not like to deceive you, either,” said I. “I know very little of the Gregara and less of James More and his doings, but since the while I have been standing in this close, I seem to know something of yourself; and if you will just say ‘a friend to Miss Catriona’ I will see you are the less cheated.”

      “The one cannot be without the other,” said she.

      “I will even try,” said I.

      “And what will you be thinking of myself!” she cried, “to be holding my hand to the first stranger!”

      “I am thinking nothing but that you are a good daughter,” said I.

      “I must not be without repaying it,” she said; “where is it you stop!”

      “To tell the truth, I am stopping nowhere yet,” said I, “being not full three hours in the city; but if you will give me your direction, I will he no bold as come seeking my sixpence for myself.”

      “Will I can trust you for that?” she asked.

      “You need have little fear,” said I.

      “James More could not bear it else,” said she. “I stop beyond the village of Dean, on the north side of the water, with Mrs. Drummond-Ogilvy of Allardyce, who is my near friend and will be glad to thank you.”

      “You are to see me, then, so soon as what I have to do permits,” said I; and, the remembrance of Alan rolling in again upon my mind, I made haste to say farewell.

      I could not but think, even as I did so, that we had made extraordinary free upon short acquaintance, and that a really wise young lady would have shown herself more backward. I think it was the bank-porter that put me from this ungallant train of thought.

      “I thoucht ye had been a lad of some kind o’ sense,” he began, shooting out his lips. “Ye’re no likely to gang far this gate. A fule and his siller’s shune parted. Eh, but ye’re a green callant!” he cried, “an’ a veecious, tae! Cleikin’ up wi’ baubeejoes!”

      “If you dare to speak of the young lady… “ I began.

      “Leddy!” he cried. “Haud us and safe us, whatten leddy? Ca’ thon a leddy? The toun’s fu’ o’ them. Leddies! Man, its weel seen ye’re no very acquant in Embro!”

      A clap of anger took me.

      “Here,” said I, “lead me where I told you, and keep your foul mouth shut!”

      He did not wholly obey me, for, though he no more addressed me directly, he very impudent sang at me as he went in a manner of innuendo, and with an exceedingly ill voice and ear -

      “As Mally Lee cam doun the street, her capuchin did flee,

       She cuist a look ahint her to see her negligee.

       And we’re a’ gaun east and wast, we’re a’ gann ajee,

       We’re a’ gaun east and wast courtin’ Mally Lee.”

      Chapter II

       The Highland Writer

       Table of Contents

      Mr. Charles Stewart the Writer dwelt at the top of the longest stair ever mason set a hand to; fifteen flights of it, no less; and when I had come to his door, and a clerk had opened it, and told me his master was within, I had scarce breath enough to send my porter packing.

      “Awa’ east and west wi’ ye!” said I, took the money bag out of his hands, and followed the clerk in.

      The outer room was an office with the clerk’s chair at a table spread with law papers. In the inner chamber, which opened from it, a little brisk man sat poring on a deed, from which he scarce raised his eyes on my entrance; indeed, he still kept his finger in the place, as though prepared to show me out and fall again to his studies. This pleased me little enough; and what pleased me less, I thought the clerk was in a good posture to overhear what should pass between us.

      I asked if he was Mr. Charles Stewart the Writer.

      “The same,” says he; “and, if the question is equally fair, who may you be yourself?”

      “You never heard tell of my name nor of me either,” said I, “but I bring you a token from a friend that you know well. That you know well,” I repeated, lowering my voice, “but maybe are not just so keen to hear from at this present being. And the bits of business that I have to propone to you are rather in the nature of being confidential. In short, I would like to think we were quite private.”

      He rose without more words, casting down his paper like a man ill-pleased, sent forth his clerk of an errand, and shut to the house-door behind him.

Скачать книгу