er than the patroon, according to their
beastly Hollands custom, stopped his boat and required of us our fares.
Two guilders was the man's demand, between three and four shillings
English money, for each passenger. But at this Catriona began to cry out
with a vast deal of agitation. She had asked of Captain Sang, she said,
and the fare was but an English shilling. "Do you think I will have come
on board and not ask first?" cries she. The patroon scolded back upon
her in a lingo where the oaths were English and the rest right Hollands;
till at last (seeing her near tears) I privately slipped in the rogue's
hand six shillings, whereupon he was obliging enough to receive from her
the other shilling without more complaint. No doubt I was a good deal
nettled and ashamed. I like to see folk thrifty but not with so much
passion; and I daresay it would be rather coldly that I asked her, as
the boat moved on again for shore, where it was that she was trysted
with her father.

"He is to be inquired of at the house of one Sprott, an honest Scotch
merchant," says she; and then with the same breath, "I am wishing to
thank you very much--you are a brave friend to me."

"It will be time enough when I get you to your father," said I, little
thinking that I spoke so true. "I can tell him a fine tale of a loyal
daughter."

"O, I do not think I will be a loyal girl, at all events," she cried,
with a great deal of painfulness in the expression. "I do not think my
heart is true."

"Yet there are very few that would have made that leap, and all to obey
a father's orders," I observed.

"I cannot have you to be thinking of me so," she cried again. "When you
had done that same, how would I stop behind? And at all events that was
not all the reasons." Whereupon, with a burning face, she told me the
plain truth upon her poverty.

"Good guide us!" cried I, "what kind of daft-like proceeding is this, to
let yourself be launched on the continent of Europe with an empty
purse--I count it hardly decent--scant decent!" I cried.

"You forget James More, my father, is a poor gentleman," said she. "He
is a hunted exile."

"But I think not all your friends are hunted exiles," I exclaimed. "And
was this fair to them that care for you? Was it fair to me? was it fair
to Miss Grant that counselled you to go, and would be driven fair
horn-mad if she could hear of it? Was it even fair to these Gregory folk
that you were living with, and used you loving