ised my spirits that I
cried out like one hurt. The colour came strong in her face, and she
looked at me and nodded.

"O yes, Mr. David," said she, "that is what I think of you. The heart
goes with the lips."

I could read in her face high spirit, and a chivalry like a brave
child's; not anything besides. She kissed my hand, as she had kissed
Prince Charlie's, with a higher passion than the common kind of clay has
any sense of. Nothing before had taught me how deep I was her lover, nor
how far I had yet to climb to make her think of me in such a character.
Yet I could tell myself I had advanced some way, and that her heart had
beat and her blood flowed at thoughts of me.

After that honour she had done me I could offer no more trivial
civility. It was even hard for me to speak; a certain lifting in her
voice had knocked directly at the door of my own tears.

"I praise God for your kindness, dear," said I. "Farewell, my little
friend!" giving her that name which she had given to herself; with which
I bowed and left her.

My way was down the glen of the Leith River, towards Stockbridge and
Silvermills. A path led in the foot of it, the water bickered and sang
in the midst; the sunbeams overhead struck out of the west among long
shadows and (as the valley turned) made like a new scene and a new world
of it at every corner. With Catriona behind and Alan before me, I was
like one lifted up. The place besides, and the hour, and the talking of
the water, infinitely pleased me; and I lingered in my steps and looked
before and behind me as I went. This was the cause, under providence,
that I spied a little in my rear a red head among some bushes.

Anger sprang in my heart, and I turned straight about and walked at a
stiff pace to where I came from. The path lay close by the bushes where
I had remarked the head. The cover came to the wayside, and as I passed
I was all strung up to meet and to resist an onfall. No such thing
befell, I went by unmeddled with; and at that fear increased upon me. It
was still day indeed, but the place exceeding solitary. If my haunters
had let slip that fair occasion I could but judge they aimed at
something more than David Balfour. The lives of Alan and James weighed
upon my spirit with the weight of two grown bullocks.

Catriona was yet in the garden walking by herself.

"Catriona," said I, "you see me back again."

"With a changed face," said she.

"I carry two men's lives besides my o