Catriona Robert Louis Stevenson (little readers txt) 📖

Appin case, and the same (no matter by what subterfuge) had been employed to influence the jury. Now came his reward, and he was free. It might please the authorities to give to it the colour of an escape; but I knew better⁠—I knew it was the fulfilment of a bargain. The same course of thought relieved me of the least alarm for Catriona. She might be thought to have broke prison for her father; she might have believed so herself. But the chief hand in the whole business was that of Prestongrange; and I was sure, so far from letting her come to punishment, he would not suffer her to be even tried. Whereupon thus came out of me the not very politic ejaculation:

“Ah! I was expecting that!”

“You have at times a great deal of discretion too!” says Prestongrange.

“And what is my lord pleased to mean by that?” I asked.

“I was just marvelling,” he replied, “that being so clever as to draw these inferences, you should not be clever enough to keep them to yourself. But I think you would like to hear the details of the affair. I have received two versions: and the least official is the more full and far the more entertaining, being from the lively pen of my eldest daughter. ‘Here is all the town bizzing with a fine piece of work,’ she writes, ‘and what would make the thing more noted (if it were only known) the malefactor is a protégée of his lordship my papa. I am sure your heart is too much in your duty (if it were nothing else) to have forgotten Grey Eyes. What does she do, but get a broad hat with the flaps open, a long hairy-like man’s greatcoat, and a big gravatt; kilt her coats up to Gude kens whaur, clap two pair of boot-hose upon her legs, take a pair of clouted brogues15 in her hand, and off to the Castle? Here she gives herself out to be a soutar16 in the employ of James More, and gets admitted to his cell, the lieutenant (who seems to have been full of pleasantry) making sport among his soldiers of the soutar’s greatcoat. Presently they hear disputation and the sound of blows inside. Out flies the cobbler, his coat flying, the flaps of his hat beat about his face, and the lieutenant and his soldiers mock at him as he runs off. They laughed not so hearty the next time they had occasion to visit the cell, and found nobody but a tall, pretty, grey-eyed lass in the female habit! As for the cobbler, he was “over the hills ayont Dumblane,” and it’s thought that poor Scotland will have to console herself without him. I drank Catriona’s health this night in public. Indeed, the whole town admires her; and I think the beaux would wear bits of her garters in their buttonholes if they could only get them. I would have gone to visit her in prison too, only I remembered in time I was papa’s daughter; so I wrote her a billet instead, which I entrusted to the faithful Doig, and I hope you will admit I can be political when I please. The same faithful gomeral is to despatch this letter by the express along with those of the wiseacres, so that you may hear Tom Fool in company with Solomon. Talking of gomerals, do tell Dauvit Balfour. I would I could see the face of him at the thought of a long-legged lass in such a predicament! to say nothing of the levities of your affectionate daughter, and his respectful friend.’ So my rascal signs herself!” continued Prestongrange. “And you see, Mr. David, it is quite true what I tell you, that my daughters regard you with the most affectionate playfulness.”

“The gomeral is much obliged,” said I.

“And was not this prettily done?” he went on. “Is not this Highland maid a piece of a heroine?”

“I was always sure she had a great heart,” said I. “And I wager she guessed nothing.⁠ ⁠… But I beg your pardon, this is to tread upon forbidden subjects.”

“I will go bail she did not,” he returned, quite openly. “I will go bail she thought she was flying straight into King George’s face.”

Remembrance of Catriona, and the thought of her lying in captivity, moved me strangely. I could see that even Prestongrange admired, and could not withhold his lips from smiling when he considered her behaviour. As for Miss Grant, for all her ill habit of mockery, her admiration shone out plain. A kind of a heat came on me.

“I am not your lordship’s daughter⁠ ⁠…” I began.

“That I know of!” he put in smiling.

“I speak like a fool,” said I, “or rather I began wrong. It would doubtless be unwise in Mistress Grant to go to her in prison; but for me, I think I would look like a halfhearted friend if I did not fly there instantly.”

“So-ho, Mr. David,” says he, “I thought that you and I were in a bargain?”

“My lord,” I said, “when I made that bargain I was a good deal affected by your goodness, but I’ll never can deny that I was moved besides by my own interest. There was self-seeking in my heart, and I think shame of it now. It may be for your lordship’s safety to say this fashious Davie Balfour is your friend and housemate. Say it then; I’ll never contradict you. But as for your patronage, I give it all back. I ask but the one thing⁠—let me go, and give me a pass to see her in her prison.”

He looked at me with a hard eye. “You put the cart before the horse, I think,” says he. “That which I had given was a portion of my liking, which your thankless nature does not seem to have remarked. But for my patronage, it is not given, nor (to be exact) is it yet offered.” He