nour done them.
Was this not to make a god of me? and do you not think my heart would
quake when I remember it?"

"I do laugh at you a good deal, and a good deal more than is quite
civil," said she; "but I will tell you one thing: if you speak to her
like that, you have some glimmerings of a chance."

"Me?" I cried, "I would never dare. I can speak to you, Miss Grant,
because it's a matter of indifference what ye think of me. But her? no
fear!" said I.

"I think you have the largest feet in all broad Scotland," says she.

"Troth, they are no' very small," said I, looking down.

"Ah, poor Catriona!" cries Miss Grant.

And I could but stare upon her; for though I now see very well what she
was driving at (and perhaps some justification for the same), I was
never swift at the uptake in such flimsy talk.

"Ah well, Mr. David," she said, "it goes sore against my conscience, but
I see I shall have to be your speaking-board. She shall know you came
to her straight upon the news of her imprisonment; she shall know you
would not pause to eat; and of our conversation she shall hear just so
much as I think convenient for a maid of her age and inexperience.
Believe me, you will be in that way much better served than you could
serve yourself, for I will keep the big feet out of the platter."

"You know where she is, then?" I exclaimed.

"That I do, Mr. David, and will never tell," said she.

"Why that?" I asked.

"Well," she said, "I am a good friend, as you will soon discover; and
the chief of those that I am friend to is my papa. I assure you, you
will never heat nor melt me out of that, so you may spare me your
sheep's eyes; and adieu to your David-Balfourship for the now."

"But there is yet one thing more," I cried. "There is one thing that
must be stopped, being mere ruin to herself, and to me too."

"Well," she said, "be brief; I have spent half the day on you already."

"My Lady Allardyce believes," I began--"she supposes--she thinks that I
abducted her."

The colour came into Miss Grant's face, so that at first I was quite
abashed to find her ear so delicate, till I bethought me she was
struggling rather with mirth, a notion in which I was altogether
confirmed by the shaking of her voice as she replied--

"I will take up the defence of your reputation," said she. "You may
leave it in my hands."

And with that she withdrew out of the library.

FOOTNOTES:

[17] Tamson's mare--to go afoot.

[18]