“And now, Davie,” said she, “what will you do with me at all events?”

“It is what we have to speak of,” said I, “and the sooner yet the better.  I can come by money in Leyden; that will be all well.  But the trouble is how to dispose of you until your father come.  I thought last night you seemed a little sweir to part from me?”

“It will be more than seeming then,” said she.

“You are a very young maid,” said I, “and I am but a very young callant.  This is a great piece of difficulty.  What way are we to manage?  Unless, indeed, you could pass to be my sister?”

“And what for no?” said she, “if you would let me!”

“I wish you were so, indeed!” I cried.  “I would be a fine man if I had such a sister.  But the rub is that you are Catriona Drummond.”

“And now I will be Catrine Balfour,” she said.  “And who is to ken?  They are all strange folk here.”

“If you think that it would do,” says I.  “I own it troubles me.  I would like it very ill, if I advised you at all wrong.”

“David, I have no friend here but you,” she said.

“The mere truth is, I am too young to be your friend,” said I.  “I am too young to advise you, or you to be advised.  I see not what else we are to do, and yet I ought to warn you.”

“I will have no choice left,” said she.  “My father James More has not used me very well, and it is not the first time.  I am cast upon your hands like a sack of barley meal, and have nothing else to think of but your pleasure.  If you will have me, good and well.  If you will not”—­she turned and touched her hand upon my arm—­“David, I am afraid,” said she.

“No, but I ought to warn you,” I began; and then bethought me that I was the bearer of the purse, and it would never do to seem too churlish.  “Catriona,” said I, “don’t misunderstand me:  I am just trying to do my duty by you, girl!  Here am I going alone to this strange city, to be a solitary student there; and here is this chance arisen that you might dwell with me a bit, and be like my sister:  you can surely understand this much, my dear, that I would just love to have you?”

“Well, and here I am,” said she.  “So that’s soon settled.”

I know I was in duty bounden to have spoke more plain.  I know this was a great blot on my character for which I was lucky that I did not pay more dear.  But I minded how easy her delicacy had been startled with a word of kissing her in Barbara’s letter; now that she depended on me, how was I to be more bold?  Besides, the truth is, I could see no other feasible method to dispose of her.  And I daresay inclination pulled me very strong.

A little beyond the Hague she fell very lame and made the rest of the distance heavily enough.  Twice she must rest by the wayside, which she did with pretty apologies, calling herself a shame to the Highlands and the race she came of, and nothing but a hindrance to myself.  It was her excuse, she said, that she was not much used with walking shod.  I would have had her strip off her shoes and stockings and go barefoot.  But she pointed out to me that the women of that country, even in the landward roads, appeared to be all shod.