CHAPTER XXIX
WE MEET IN DUNKIRK
Altogether, then, I was scarce so miserable the next days but what I hadmany hopeful and happy snatches; threw myself with a good deal ofconstancy upon my studies; and made out to endure the time till Alanshould arrive, or I might hear word of Catriona by the means of JamesMore. I had altogether three letters in the time of our separation. Onewas to announce their arrival in the town of Dunkirk in France, fromwhich place James shortly after started alone upon a private mission.This was to England and to see Lord Holderness; and it has always been abitter thought that my good money helped to pay the charges of the same.But he has need of a long spoon who sups with the deil, or James Moreeither. During this absence, the time was to fall due for anotherletter; and as the letter was the condition of his stipend, he had beenso careful as prepare it beforehand and leave it with Catriona to bedespatched. The fact of our correspondence aroused her suspicions, andhe was no sooner gone than she had burst the seal. What I received beganaccordingly in the writing of James More:
"My dear Sir,--Your esteemed favour came to hand duly, and I have toacknowledge the inclosure according to agreement. It shall be allfaithfully expended on my daughter, who is well, and desires to beremembered to her dear friend. I find her in rather a melancholydisposition, but trusts in the mercy of Grod to see her re-established.Our manner of life is very much alone, but we solace ourselves with themelancholy tunes of our native mountains, and by walking upon the marginof the sea that lies next to Scotland. It was better days with me when Ilay with five wounds upon my body on the field of Gladsmuir. I have foundemployment here in the _haras_ of a French nobleman, where my experienceis valued. But, my dear Sir, the wages are so exceedingly unsuitable thatI would be ashamed to mention them, which makes your remittances the morenecessary to my daughter's comfort, though I daresay the sight of oldfriends would be still better.
"My dear Sir, "Your affectionate obedient servant,
"JAMES MACGREGOR DRUMMOND."
Below it began again in the hand of Catriona:--
"Do not be believing him, it is all lies together. "C.M.D."
Not only did she add this postcript, but I think she must have come nearsuppressing the letter; for it came long after date, and was closelyfollowed by the third. In the time betwixt them, Alan had arrived, andmade another life to me with his merry conversation; I had beenpresented to his cousin of the Scots-Dutch, a man that drank more than Icould have thought possible and was not otherwise of interest; I hadbeen entertained to many jovial dinners and given some myself, all withno great change upon my sorrow; and we two (by which I mean Alan andmyself, and not at all the cousin) had discussed a good deal the natureof my relations with James More and his daughter. I was naturallydiffident to give particulars; and this disposition was not anywaylessened by the nature of Alan's commentary upon those I gave.
"I cannae make head nor tail of it," he would say, "but it sticks in mymind ye've made a gowk of yourself. There's few people that has had moreexperience than Alan Breck; and I can never call to mind to have heardtell of a lassie like this one of yours. The way that you tell it, thething's fair impossible. Ye must have made a terrible hash of thebusiness, David."
"There are whiles that I am of the same mind," said I.
"The strange thing is that ye seem to have a kind of a fancy for hertoo!" said Alan.
"The biggest kind, Alan," said I, "and I think I'll take it to my gravewith me."
"Well, ye beat me, whatever!" he would conclude.
I showed him the letter with Catriona's postcript. "And here again!" hecried. "Impossible to deny a kind of decency to this Catriona, and senseforby! As for James More, the man's as boss as a drum; he's just a wameand a wheen words; though I'll can never deny that he fought reasonablywell at Gladsmuir, and it's true what he says here about the fivewounds. But the loss of him is that the man's boss."
"Ye see, Alan," said I, "it goes against the grain with me to leave themaid in such poor hands."
"Ye couldnae weel find poorer," he admitted. "But what are ye to do withit? It's this way about a man and a woman, ye see, Davie: The weemenfolkhave got no kind of reason to them. Either they like the man, and thena' goes fine; or else they just detest him, and ye may spare yourbreath--ye can do naething. There's just the two sets of them--them thatwould sell their coats for ye, and them that never look the road ye'reon. That's a' that there is to women; and you seem to be such a gomeralthat ye cannae tell the tane frae the tither."
"Well, and I'm afraid that's true for me," said I.
"And yet there's naething easier!" cried Alan. "I could easy learn yethe science of the thing; but ye seem to me to be born blind, andthere's where the diffeeculty comes in!"
"And can _you_ no help me?" I asked, "you that's so clever at thetrade?"
"Ye see, David, I wasnae here," said he. "I'm like a field officer thathas naebody but blind men for scouts and _eclaireurs_; and what would heken? But it sticks in my mind that ye'll have made some kind of bauchle;and if I was you, I would have a try at her again."
"Would ye so, man Alan?" said I.
"I would e'en't," says he.
The third letter came to my hand while we were deep in some such talk;and it will be seen how pat it fell to the occasion. James professed tobe in some concern upon his daughter's health, which I believe was neverbetter; abounded in kind expressions to myself; and finally proposedthat I should visit them at Dunkirk.
"You will now be enjoying the society of my old comrade, Mr. Stewart,"he wrote. "Why not accompany him so far in his return to France? I havesomething very particular for Mr. Stewart's ear; and, at any rate, Iwould be pleased to meet in with an old fellow-soldier and one so mettleas himself. As for you, my dear sir, my daughter and I would be proud toreceive our benefactor, whom we regard as a brother and a son. TheFrench nobleman has proved a person of the most filthy avarice ofcharacter, and I have been necessitate to leave the _haras_. You willfind us, in consequence, a little poorly lodged in the _auberge_ of aman Bazin on the dunes; but the situation is caller, and I make no doubtbut we might spend some very pleasant days, when Mr. Stewart and I couldrecall our services, and you and my daughter divert yourselves in amanner more befitting your age. I beg at least that Mr. Stewart wouldcome here; my business with him opens a very wide door."
"What does the man want with me?" cried Alan, when he had read. "What hewants with you is clear enough--it's siller. But what can he want withAlan Breck?"
"O, it'll be just an excuse," said I. "He is still after this marriage,which I wish from my heart that we could bring about. And he asks youbecause he thinks I would be less likely to come wanting you."
"Well, I wish that I kent," says Alan. "Him and me were never onywayspack; we used to girn at ither like a pair of pipers. 'Something for myear,' quo' he! I'll maybe have something for his hinder end, beforewe're through with it. Dod, I'm thinking it would be a kind of adivertisement to gang and see what he'll be after! Forby that I couldsee your lassie then. What say ye, Davie? Will ye ride with Alan?"
You may be sure I was not backward, and Alan's furlough running towardsan end, we set forth presently upon this joint adventure.
It was near dark of a January day when we rode at last into the town ofDunkirk. We left our horses at the post, and found a guide to Bazin'sInn, which lay beyond the walls. Night was quite fallen, so that we werethe last to leave that fortress, and heard the doors of it close behindus as we passed the bridge. On the other side there lay a lightedsuburb, which we thridded for a while, then turned into a dark lane, andpresently found ourselves wading in the night among deep sand where wecould hear a bullering of the sea. We travelled in this fashion for somewhile, following our conductor mostly by the sound of his voice; and Ihad begun to think he was perhaps misleading us, when we came to the topof a small brae, and there appeared out of the darkness a dim light in awindow.
"_Voila l'auberge a, Bazin_," says the guide.
Alan smacked his lips.
"An unco lonely bit," said he, and I thought byhis tone he was not wholly pleased.
A little after, and we stood in the lower storey of the house, which wasall in the one apartment, with a stair leading to the chambers at theside, benches and tables by the wall, the cooking fire at the one end ofit, and shelves of bottles and the cellar-trap at the other. Here Bazin,who was an ill-looking, big man, told us the Scottish gentleman was goneabroad he knew not where, but the young lady was above, and he wouldcall her down to us.
I took from my breast the kerchief wanting the corner, and knotted itabout my throat. I could hear my heart go; and Alan patting me on theshoulder with some of his laughable expressions, I could scarce refrainfrom a sharp word. But the time was not long to wait. I heard her steppass overhead, and saw her on the stair. This she descended veryquietly, and greeted me with a pale face and certain seeming ofearnestness, or uneasiness, in her manner that extremely dashed me.
"My father, James More, will be here soon. He will be very pleased tosee you," she said. And then of a sudden her face flamed, her eyeslightened, the speech stopped upon her lips; and I made sure she hadobserved the kerchief. It was only for a breath that she wasdiscomposed; but methought it was with a new animation that she turnedto welcome Alan. "And you will be his friend Alan Breck?" she cried."Many is the dozen times I will have heard him tell of you; and I loveyou already for all your bravery and goodness."
"Well, well," says Alan, holding her hand in his and viewing her, "andso this is the young lady at the last of it! David, you're an awful poorhand of a description."
I do not know that ever I heard him speak so straight to people'shearts; the sound of his voice was like song.
"What? will he have been describing me?" she cried.
"Little else of it since I ever came out of France!" says he, "forby abit of speciment one night in Scotland in a shaw of wood by Silvermills.But cheer up, my dear! ye're bonnier than what he said. And now there'sone thing sure: you and me are to be a pair of friends. I'm a kind of ahenchman to Davie here; I'm like a tyke at his heels; and whatever hecares for, I've got to care for too--and by the holy airn! they've gotto care for me! So now you can see what way you stand with Alan Breck,and ye'll find ye'll hardly lose on the transaction. He's no verybonnie, my dear, but he's leal to them he loves."
"I thank you with my heart for your good words," said she. "I have thathonour for a brave, honest man that I cannot find any to be answeringwith."
Using travellers' freedom, we spared to wait for James More, and satdown to meat, we threesome. Alan had Catriona sit by him and wait uponhis wants: he made her drink first out of his glass, he surrounded herwith continual kind gallantries, and yet never gave me the most smalloccasion to be jealous; and he kept the talk so much in his own hand,and that in so merry a note, that neither she nor I remembered to beembarrassed. If any one had seen us there, it must have been supposedthat Alan was the old friend and I the stranger. Indeed, I had oftencause to love and to admire the man, but I never loved or admired himbetter than that night; and I could not help remarking to myself (what Iwas sometimes rather in danger of forgetting) that he had not only muchexperience of life, but in his own way a great deal of natural abilitybesides. As for Catriona she seemed quite carried away; her laugh waslike a peal of bells, her face gay as a May morning; and I own, althoughI was very well pleased, yet I was a little sad also, and thought myselfa dull, stockish character in comparison of my friend, and very unfit tocome into a young maid's life, and perhaps ding down her gaiety.
But if that was like to be my part, I found at least that I was notalone in it; for, James More returning suddenly, the girl was changedinto a piece of stone. Through the rest of that evening, until she madean excuse and slipped to bed, I kept an eye upon her without cease: andI can bear testimony that she never smiled, scarce spoke, and lookedmostly on the board in front of her. So that I really marvelled to seeso much devotion (as it used to be) changed into the very sickness ofhate.
Of James More it is unnecessary to say much; you know the man already,what there was to know of him; and I am weary of writing out his lies.Enough that he drank a great deal, and told us very little that was toany possible purpose. As for the business with Alan, that was to bereserved for the morrow and his private hearing.
It was the more easy to be put off, because Alan and I were pretty wearywith our day's ride, and sat not very late after Catriona.
We were soon alone in a chamber where we were to make shift with asingle bed. Alan looked on me with a queer smile.
"Ye muckle ass!" said he.
"What do ye mean by that?" I cried.
"Mean? What do I mean? It's extraordinar, David man," says he, "that youshould be so mortal stupit."
Again I begged him to speak out.
"Well, it's this of it," said he. "I told ye there were the two kinds ofwomen--them that would sell their shifts for ye, and the others. Justyou try for yoursel', my bonny man I But what's that neepkin at yourcraig?"
I told him.
"I thocht it was something there about," said he.
Nor would he say another word though I besieged him long withimportunities.
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