David Balfour

by Robert Louis Stevenson

  CHAPTER XXVI

  THE THREESOME

  Whether or not I was to be so much blamed, or rather perhaps pitied, Imust leave others to judge of. My shrewdness (of which I have a gooddeal, too) seems not so great with the ladies. No doubt, at the momentwhen I awaked her, I was thinking a good deal of the effect upon JamesMore; and similarly when I returned and we were all sat down tobreakfast, I continued to behave to the young lady with deference anddistance; as I still think to have been most wise. Her father had castdoubts upon the innocence of my friendship; and these, it was my firstbusiness to allay. But there is a kind of an excuse for Catriona also.We had shared in a scene of some tenderness and passion, and given andreceived caresses; I had thrust her from me with violence; I had calledaloud upon her in the night from the one room to the other; she hadpassed hours of wakefulness and weeping; and it is not to be supposed Ihad been absent from her pillow thoughts. Upon the back of this, to beawaked, with unaccustomed formality, under the name of Miss Drummond,and to be thenceforth used with a great deal of distance and respect,led her entirely in error on my private sentiments; and she was indeedso incredibly abused as to imagine me repentant and trying to draw off!

  The trouble betwixt us seems to have been this: that whereas I (since Ihad first set eyes on his great hat) thought singly of James More, hisreturn and suspicions, she made so little of these that I may say shescarce remarked them, and all her troubles and doings regarded what hadpassed between us in the night before. This is partly to be explained bythe innocence and boldness of her character; and partly because JamesMore, having sped so ill in his interview with me, or had his mouthclosed by my invitation, said no word to her upon the subject. At thebreakfast, accordingly, it soon appeared we were at cross purposes. Ihad looked to find her in clothes of her own: I found her (as if herfather were forgotten) wearing some of the best that I had bought forher and which she knew (or thought) that I admired her in. I had lookedto find her imitate my affectation of distance, and be most precise andformal; instead I found her flushed and wild-like, with eyesextraordinary bright, and a painful and varying expression, calling meby name with a sort of appeal of tenderness, and referring and deferringto my thoughts and wishes like an anxious or a suspected wife.

  But this was not for long. As I beheld her so regardless of her owninterests, which I had jeopardised and was now endeavoring to recover, Iredoubled my own boldness in the manner of a lesson to the girl. Themore she came forward, the further I drew back; the more she betrayedthe closeness of our intimacy, the more pointedly civil I became, untileven her father (if he had not been so engrossed with eating) might haveobserved the opposition. In the midst of which, of a sudden, she becamewholly changed, and I told myself, with a good deal of relief, that shehad took the hint at last.

  All day I was at my classes or in quest of my new lodging; and thoughthe hour of our customary walk hung miserably on my hands, I cannot saybut I was happy on the whole to find my way cleared, the girl again inproper keeping, the father satisfied or at least acquiescent, and myselffree to prosecute my love with honour. At supper, as at all our meals,it was James More that did the talking. No doubt but he talked well, ifanyone could have believed him. But I will speak of him presently moreat large. The meal at an end, he rose, got his great coat, and looking(as I thought) at me, observed he had affairs abroad. I took this for ahint that I was to be going also, and got up; whereupon the girl, whohad scarce given me greeting at my entrance, turned her eyes on me wideopen, with a look that bade me stay. I stood between them like a fishout of water, turning from one to the other; neither seemed to observeme, she gazing on the floor, he buttoning his coat: which vastly swelledmy embarrassment. This appearance of indifferency argued, upon her side,a good deal of anger very near to burst out. Upon his, I thought ithorribly alarming; I made sure there was a tempest brewing there; andconsidering that to be the chief peril, turned towards him and putmyself (so to speak) in the man's hands.

  "Can I do anything for _you_, Mr. Drummond?" says I.

  He stifled a yawn, which again I thought to be duplicity. "Why, Mr.David," said he, "since you are so obliging as to propose it, you mightshow me the way to a certain tavern" (of which he gave the name) "whereI hope to fall in with some old companions in arms."

  There was no more to say, and I got my hat and cloak to bear himcompany.

  "And as for you," he says to his daughter, "you had best go to your bed.I shall be late home, and _Early to bed and early to rise, gars bonnylasses have bright eyes."_

  Whereupon he kissed her with a good deal of tenderness, and ushered mebefore him from the door. This was so done (I thought on purpose) thatit was scarce possible there should be any parting salutation; but Iobserved she did not look at me, and set it down to terror of JamesMore.

  It was some distance to that tavern. He talked all the way of matterswhich did not interest me the smallest, and at the door dismissed mewith empty manners. Thence I walked to my new lodging, where I had notso much as a chimney to hold me warm, and no society but my ownthoughts. These were still bright enough; I did not so much as dreamthat Catriona was turned against me; I thought we were like folkpledged; I thought we had been too near and spoke too warmly to besevered, least of all by what were only steps in a most needful policy.And the chief of my concern was only the kind of father-in-law that Iwas getting, which was not at all the kind I would have chosen: and thematter of how soon I ought to speak to him, which was a delicate pointon several sides. In the first place, when I thought how young I was, Iblushed all over, and could almost have found it in my heart to havedesisted; only that if once I let them go from Leyden withoutexplanation, I might lose her altogether. And in the second place, therewas our very irregular situation to be kept in view, and the ratherscant measure of satisfaction I had given James More that morning. Iconcluded, on the whole, that delay would not hurt anything, yet I wouldnot delay too long neither; and got to my cold bed with a full heart.

  The next day, as James More seemed a little on the complaining hand inthe matter of my chamber, I offered to have in more furniture; andcoming in the afternoon, with porters bringing chairs and tables, foundthe girl once more left to herself. She greeted me on my admissioncivilly, but withdrew at once to her own room, of which she shut thedoor. I made my disposition, and paid and dismissed the men so that shemight hear them go, when I supposed she would at once come forth againto speak to me. I waited yet awhile, then knocked upon her door.

  "Catriona!" said I.

  The door was opened so quickly, even before I had the word out, that Ithought she must have stood behind it listening. She remained there inthe interval quite still; but she had a look that I cannot put a nameon, as of one in a bitter trouble.

  "Are we not to have our walk to-day either?" so I faltered.

  "I am thanking you," said she. "I will not be caring much to walk, nowthat my father is come home."

  "But I think he has gone out himself and left you here alone," said I.

  "And do you think that was very kindly said?" she asked.

  "It was not unkindly meant," I replied. "What ails you, Catriona? Whathave I done to you that you should turn from me like this?"

  "I do not turn from you at all," she said, speaking very carefully. "Iwill ever be grateful to my friend that was good to me; I will ever behis friend in all that I am able. But now that my father James More iscome again, there is a difference to be made, and I think there are somethings said and done that would be better to be forgotten. But I willever be your friend in all that I am able, and if that is not all that. . . if it is not so much. . . . Not that you will be caring! But I wouldnot have you think of me too hard. It was true what you said to me, thatI was too young to be advised, and I am hoping you will remember I wasjust 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 herface like scarlet, so that not her words only, but her face and thetrembling of her very hands, besoug
ht me to be gentle. I saw for thefirst time, how very wrong I had done to place the child in thatposition, where she had been entrapped into a moment's weakness, and nowstood before me like a person shamed.

  "Miss Drummond," I said, and stuck, and made the same beginning onceagain, "I wish you could see into my heart," I cried. "You would readthere that my respect is undiminished. If that were possible, I shouldsay it was increased. This is but the result of the mistake we made; andhad to come; and the less said of it now the better. Of all of our lifehere, I promise you it shall never pass my lips; I would like to promiseyou too that I would never think of it, but it's a memory that will bealways dear to me. And as for a friend, you have one here that would diefor you."

  "I am thanking you," said she.

  We stood awhile silent, and my sorrow for myself began to get the upperhand; for here were all my dreams come to a sad tumble, and my lovelost, and myself alone again in the world as at the beginning.

  "Well," said I, "we shall be friends always, that's a certain thing. Butthis is a kind of a farewell too: it's a kind of a farewell after all; Ishall 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 growgreat and brighten in my eyes; and with that I suppose I must have lostmy head, for I called out her name again and made a step at her with myhands reached forth.

  She shrank back like a person struck, her face flamed; but the bloodsprang no faster up into her cheeks, than what it flowed back upon myown heart, at sight of it, with penitence and concern. I found no wordsto excuse myself, but bowed before her very deep, and went my ways outof the house with death in my bosom.

  I think it was about five days that followed without any change. I sawher scarce ever but at meals, and then of course in the company of JamesMore. If we were alone even for a moment, I made it my devoir to behavethe more distantly and to multiply respectful attentions, having alwaysin my mind's eye that picture of the girl shrinking and flaming in ablush, and in my heart more pity for her than I could depict in words. Iwas sorry enough for myself, I need not dwell on that, having fallen allmy length and more than all my height in a few seconds; but, indeed, Iwas near as sorry for the girl, and sorry enough to be scarce angry withher save by fits and starts. Her plea was good: she was but a child; shehad been placed in an unfair position; if she had deceived herself andme, it was no more than was to have been looked for.

  And for another thing she was now very much alone. Her father, when hewas by, was rather a caressing parent; but he was very easy led away byhis affairs and pleasures, neglected her without compunction or remark,spent his nights in taverns when he had the money, which was more oftenthan I could at all account for; and even in the course of these fewdays, failed once to come to a meal, which Catriona and I were at lastcompelled to partake of without him. It was the evening meal, and I leftimmediately that I had eaten, observing I supposed she would prefer tobe alone; to which she agreed and (strange as it may seem) I quitebelieved her. Indeed, I thought myself but an eyesore to the girl, and areminder of a moment's weakness that she now abhorred to think of. Soshe must sit alone in that room where she and I had been so merry, andin the blink of that chimney whose light had shone upon our manydifficult and tender moments. There she must sit alone, and think ofherself as of a maid who had most unmaidenly proffered her affectionsand had the same rejected. And in the meanwhile I would be alone someother place, and reading myself (whenever I was tempted to be angry)lessons upon human frailty and female delicacy. And altogether I supposethere were never two poor fools made themselves more unhappy in agreater misconception.

  As for James, he paid not so much heed to us, or to anything in naturebut his pocket, and his belly, and his own prating talk. Before twelvehours were gone he had raised a small loan of me; before thirty, he hadasked for a second and been refused. Money and refusal he took with thesame kind of high good-nature. Indeed, he had an outside air ofmagnanimity that was very well fitted to impose upon a daughter; and thelight in which he was constantly presented in his talk, and the man'sfine presence and great ways went together pretty harmoniously. So thata man that had no business with him, and either very little penetrationor a furious deal of prejudice, might almost have been taken in. To me,after my first two interviews, he was as plain as print; I saw him to beperfectly selfish, with a perfect innocency in the same; and I wouldharken to his swaggering talk (of arms, and "an old soldier," and "apoor Highland gentleman," and "the strength of my country and myfriends") as I might to the babbling of a parrot.

  The odd thing was that I fancy he believed some part of it himself, ordid at times; I think he was so false all through that he scarce knewwhen he was lying; and for one thing, his moments of dejection must havebeen wholly genuine. There were times when he would be the most silent,affectionate, clinging creature possible, holding Catriona's hand like abig baby, and begging of me not to leave if I had any love to him; ofwhich, indeed, I had none, but all the more to his daughter. He wouldpress and indeed beseech us to entertain him with our talk, a thing verydifficult in the state of our relations; and again break forth inpitiable regrets for his own land and friends, or into Gaelic singing.

  "This is one of the melancholy airs of my native land," he would say."You may think it strange to see a soldier weep, and indeed it is tomake a near friend of you," says he. "But the notes of this singing arein my blood, and the words come out of my heart. And when I mind upon myred mountains and the wild birds calling there, and the brave streams ofwater running down, I would scarce think shame to weep before myenemies." Then he would sing again, and translate to me pieces of thesong, with a great deal of boggling and much expressed contempt againstthe English language. "It says here," he would say, "that the sun isgone down, and the battle is at an end, and the brave chiefs aredefeated. And it tells here how the stars see them fleeing into strangecountries or lying dead on the red mountain; and they will never moreshout the call of battle or wash their feet in the streams of thevalley. But if you had only some of this language, you would weep alsobecause the words of it are beyond all expression, and it is meremockery to tell you it in English."

  Well, I thought there was a good deal of mockery in the business, oneway and another; and yet, there was some feeling too, for which I hatedhim, I think, the worst of all. And it used to cut me to the quick tosee Catriona so much concerned for the old rogue, and weeping herself tosee him weep, when I was sure one-half of his distress flowed from hislast night's drinking in some tavern. There were times when I wastempted to lend him a round sum, and see the last of him for good; butthis would have been to see the last of Catriona as well, for which Iwas scarcely so prepared; and besides, it went against my conscience tosquander my good money on one who was so little of a husband.

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