in.

_Chap._ XX. I shall make all these points clear. About Lady
Prestongrange (not _Lady_ Grant, only _Miss_ Grant, my dear, though
_Lady_ Prestongrange, quoth the dominie) I am taken with your idea of
her death, and have a good mind to substitute a featureless aunt.

_Slip_ 78. I don't see how to lessen this effect. There is really not
much said of it; and I know Catriona did it. But I'll try.

- -89. I know. This is an old puzzle of mine. You see C.'s dialect is not
wholly a bed of roses. If only I knew the Gaelic. Well, I'll try for
another expression.

_The end._ I shall try to work it over. James was at Dunkirk ordering
post-horses for his own retreat. Catriona did have her suspicions
aroused by the letter, and careless gentleman, I told you so--or she did
at least.--Yes, the blood money.--I am bothered about the portmanteau;
it is the presence of Catriona that bothers me; the rape of the
pockmantie is historic....

To me, I own, it seems in the proof a very pretty piece of workmanship.
David himself I refuse to discuss; he _is_. The Lord Advocate I think a
strong sketch of a very difficult character, James More, sufficient; and
the two girls very pleasing creatures. But O dear me, I came near losing
my heart to Barbara! I am not quite so constant as David, and even
he--well, he didn't know it, anyway! _Tod Lapraik_ is a piece of living
Scots: if I had never writ anything but that and _Thrawn Janet_, still
I'd have been a writer. The defects of _D. B._ are inherent, I fear. But
on the whole, I am far indeed from being displeased with the tailie. One
thing is sure, there has been no such drawing of Scots character since
Scott; and even he never drew a full length like Davie, with his
shrewdness and simplicity, and stockishness and charm. Yet, you'll see,
the public won't want it; they want more Alan! Well, they can't get it.
And readers of _Tess_ can have no use for my David, and his innocent but
real love affairs.

I found my fame much grown on this return to civilisation. _Digito
monstrari_ is a new experience; people all looked at me in the streets
in Sydney; and it was very queer. Here, of course, I am only the white
chief in the Great House to the natives; and to the whites, either an
ally or a foe. It is a much healthier state of matters. If I lived in an
atmosphere of adulation, I should end by kicking against the pricks. O
my beautiful forest, O my beautiful shining, windy house, what a joy it
was to