David Balfour

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David Balfour Page 28

by Robert Louis Stevenson


  CHAPTER XXVII

  A TWOSOME

  I believe it was about the fifth day, and I know at least that James wasin one of his fits of gloom, when I received three letters. The firstwas from Alan, offering to visit me in Leyden; the other two were out ofScotland and prompted by the same affair, which was the death of myuncle and my own complete accession to my rights. Rankeillor's was, ofcourse, wholly in the business view; Miss Grant's was like herself, alittle more witty than wise, full of blame to me for not having written(though how was I to write with such intelligence?) and of rallying talkabout Catriona, which it cut me to the quick to read in her verypresence.

  For it was of course in my own rooms that I found them, when I came todinner, so that I was surprised out of my news in the very first momentof reading it. This made a welcome diversion for all three of us, norcould any have foreseen the ill consequences that ensued. It wasaccident that brought the three letters the same day, and that gave theminto my hand in the same room with James More; and of all the eventsthat flowed from that accident, and which I might have prevented if Ihad held my tongue, the truth is that they were preordained beforeAgricola came into Scotland or Abraham set out upon his travels.

  The first that I opened was naturally Alan's; and what more natural thanthat I should comment on his design to visit me? but I observed James tosit up with an air of immediate attention.

  "Is that not Alan Breck that was suspected of the Appin accident?" heinquired.

  I told him, "Ay," it was the same; and he withheld me some time from myother letters, asking of our acquaintance, of Alan's manner of life inFrance, of which I knew very little, and further of his visit as nowproposed.

  "All we forfeited folk hang a little together," he explained, "andbesides I know the gentleman: and though his descent is not the thing,and indeed he has no true right to use the name of Stewart, he was verymuch admired in the day of Drummossie. He did there like a soldier; ifsome that need not be named had done as well, the upshot need not havebeen so melancholy to remember. There were two that did their best thatday, and it makes a bond between the pair of us," says he.

  I could scarce refrain from shooting out my tongue at him, and couldalmost have wished that Alan had been there to have inquired a littlefurther into that mention of his birth. Though, they tell me, the samewas indeed not wholly regular.

  Meanwhile, I had opened Miss Grant's, and could not withhold anexclamation.

  "Catriona," I cried, forgetting, the first time since her father wasarrived, to address her by a handle, "I am come into my kingdom fairly,I am the laird of Shaws indeed--my uncle is dead at last."

  She clapped her hands together leaping from her seat. The next moment itmust have come over both of us at once what little cause of joy was leftto either, and we stood opposite, staring on each other sadly.

  But James showed himself a ready hypocrite. "My daughter," says he, "isthis how my cousin learned you to behave? Mr. David has lost a nearfriend, and we should first condole with him on his bereavement."

  "Troth, sir," said I, turning to him in a kind of anger, "I can make nosuch faces. His death is as blythe news as ever I got."

  "It's a good soldier's philosophy," says James. "'Tis the way of flesh,we must all go, all go. And if the gentleman was so far from yourfavour, why, very well! But we may at least congratulate you on youraccession to your estates."

  "Nor can I say that either," I replied, with the same heat. "It is agood estate; what matters that to a lone man that has enough already? Ihad a good revenue before in my frugality; and but for the man'sdeath--which gratifies me, shame to me that must confess it!--I see nothow anyone is to be bettered by this change."

  "Come, come," said he, "you are more affected than you let on, or youwould never make yourself out so lonely. Here are three letters; thatmeans three that wish you well; and I could name two more, here in thisvery chamber. I have known you not so very long, but Catriona, when weare alone, is never done with the singing of your praises."

  She looked up at him, a little wild at that; and he slid off at onceinto another matter, the extent of my estate, which (during the most ofthe dinner time) he continued to dwell upon with interest. But it was tono purpose he dissembled; he had touched the matter with too gross ahand: and I knew what to expect. Dinner was scarce ate when he plainlydiscovered his designs. He reminded Catriona of an errand, and bid herattend to it. "I do not see you should be gone beyond the hour," headded, "and friend David will be good enough to bear me company till youreturn." She made haste to obey him without words. I do not know if sheunderstood, I believe not; but I was completely satisfied, and satstrengthening my mind for what should follow.

  The door had scarce closed behind her departure, when the man leanedback in his chair and addressed me with a good affectation of easiness.Only the one thing betrayed him and that was his face; which suddenlyshone all over with fine points of sweat.

  "I am rather glad to have a word alone with you," says he, "because inour first interview there were some expressions you misapprehended and Ihave long meant to set you right upon. My daughter stands beyond doubt.So do you, and I would make that good with my sword against allgainsayers. But, my dear David, this world is a censorious place--as whoshould know it better than myself, who have lived ever since the days ofmy late departed father, God sain him! in a perfect spate of calumnies?We have to face to that; you and me have to consider of that; we have toconsider of that." And he wagged his head like a minister in a pulpit.

  "To what effect, Mr. Drummond?" said I. "I would be obliged to you ifyou would approach your point."

  "Ay, ay," says he, laughing, "like your character indeed! and what Imost admire in it. But the point, my worthy fellow, is sometimes in akittle bit." He filled a glass of wine. "Though between you and me, thatare such fast friends, it need not bother us long. The point, I needscarcely tell you, is my daughter. And the first thing is that I have nothought in my mind of blaming you. In the unfortunate circumstances,what could you do else? 'Deed, and I cannot tell."

  "I thank you for that," said I, pretty close upon my guard.

  "I have besides studied your character," he went on; "your talents arefair; you seem to have a moderate competence; which does no harm; andone thing with another, I am very happy to have to announce to you thatI have decided on the latter of the two ways open."

  "I am afraid I am dull," said I. "What ways are these?"

  He bent his brows upon me formidably and uncrossed his legs. "Why, sir,"says he, "I think I need scarce describe them to a gentleman of yourcondition; either that I should cut your throat or that you should marrymy daughter."

  "You are pleased to be quite plain at last," said I.

  "And I believe I have been plain from the beginning!" cries herobustiously. "I am a careful parent, Mr. Balfour; but I thank God, apatient and deleeberate man. There is many a father, sir, that wouldhave hirsled you at once either to the altar or the field. My esteem foryour character--"

  "Mr. Drummond," I interrupted, "if you have any esteem for me at all, Iwill beg of you to moderate your voice. It is quite needless to rowt ata gentleman in the same chamber with yourself and lending you his bestattention."

  "Why, very true," says he, with an immediate change. "And you mustexcuse the agitations of a parent."

  "I understand you then," I continued--"for I will take no note of yourother alternative, which perhaps it was a pity you let fall--Iunderstand you rather to offer me encouragement in case I should desireto apply for your daughter's hand?"

  "It is not possible to express my meaning better," said he, "and I seewe shall do well together."

  "That remains to be yet seen," said I. "But so much I need make nosecret of, that I bear the lady you refer to the most tender affection,and I could not fancy, even in a dream, a better fortune than to gether."

  "I was sure of it, I felt certain of you, David," he cried, and reachedout his hand to me.

  I put it by. "You go too fast, Mr. Drummond," said I
. "There areconditions to be made; and there is a difficulty in the path, which Isee not entirely how we shall come over. I have told you that, upon myside, there is no objection to the marriage, but I have good reason tobelieve there will be much on the young lady's."

  "This is all beside the mark," says he. "I will engage for heracceptance."

  "I think you forget, Mr. Drummond," said I, "that, even in dealing withmyself you have been betrayed into two-three unpalatable expressions. Iwill have none such employed to the young lady. I am here to speak andthink for the two of us; and I give you to understand that I would nomore let a wife be forced upon myself, than what I would let a husbandbe forced on the young lady."

  He sat and glowered at me like one in doubt and a good deal of temper.

  "So that this is to be the way of it," I concluded. "I will marry MissDrummond, and that blythely, if she is entirely willing. But if there bethe least unwillingness, as I have reason to fear--marry her will Inever."

  "Well, well," said he, "this is a small affair. As soon as she returns Iwill sound her a bit, and hope to reassure you----"

  But I cut in again. "Not a finger of you, Mr. Drummond, or I cry off,and you can seek a husband to your daughter somewhere else," said I. "Itis I that am to be the only dealer and the only judge. I shall satisfymyself exactly; and none else shall anyways meddle--you the least ofall."

  "Upon my word, sir!" he exclaimed, "and who are you to be the judge?"

  "The bridegroom, I believe," said I.

  "This is to quibble," he cried. "You turn your back upon the facts. Thegirl, my daughter, has no choice left to exercise. Her character isgone."

  "And I ask your pardon," said I, "but while this matter lies between herand you and me, that is not so."

  "What security have I!" he cried. "Am I to let my daughter's reputationdepend upon a chance?"

  "You should have thought of all this long ago," said I, "before you wereso misguided as to lose her; and not afterwards, when it is quite toolate. I refuse to regard myself as any way accountable for your neglect,and I will be browbeat by no man living. My mind is quite made up, andcome what may, I will not depart from it a hair's breadth. You and meare to sit here in company till her return; upon which, without eitherword or look from you, she and I are to go forth again to hold our talk.If she can satisfy me that she is willing to this step, I will then makeit; and if she cannot, I will not."

  He leaped out of his seat like a man stung. "I can spy your manoeuvre,"he cried; "you would work upon her to refuse!"

  "Maybe ay, and maybe no," said I. "That is the way it is to be,whatever."

  "And if I refuse?" cries he.

  "Then, Mr. Drummond, it will have to come to the throat-cutting," saidI.

  What with the size of the man, his great length of arm in which he camenear rivalling his father, and his reputed skill at weapons, I did notuse this word without some trepidation, to say nothing at all of thecircumstance that he was Catriona's father. But I might have sparedmyself alarms. From the poorness of my lodging--he does not seem to haveremarked his daughter's dresses, which were indeed all equally new tohim--and from the fact that I had shown myself averse to lend, he hadembraced a strong idea of my poverty. The sudden news of my estateconvinced him of his error, and he had made but the one bound of it onthis fresh venture, to which he was now so wedded, that I believe hewould have suffered anything rather than fall to the alternative offighting.

  A little while longer he continued to dispute with me until I hit upon aword that silenced him.

  "If I find you so averse to let me see the lady by herself," said I, "Imust suppose you have very good grounds to think me in the right abouther unwillingness."

  He gabbled some kind of an excuse.

  "But all this is very exhausting to both of our tempers," I added, "andI think we would do better to preserve a judicious silence."

  The which we did until the girl returned, and I must suppose would havecut a very ridiculous figure, had there been any there to view us.

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