On the steep stair I came near falling, and this brought me to myself, so that I began at once to see the folly of my conduct.  I went, not into the street as I had purposed, but to the house court, which was always a solitary place, and where I saw my flower (that had cost me vastly more than it was worth) hanging in the leafless tree.  I stood by the side of the canal, and looked upon the ice.  Country people went by on their skates, and I envied them.  I could see no way out of the pickle I was in:  no way so much as to return to the room I had just left.  No doubt was in my mind but I had now betrayed the secret of my feelings; and to make things worse, I had shown at the same time (and that with wretched boyishness) incivility to my helpless guest.

I suppose she must have seen me from the open window.  It did not seem to me that I had stood there very long before I heard the crunching of footsteps on the frozen snow, and turning somewhat angrily (for I was in no spirit to be interrupted) saw Catriona drawing near.  She was all changed again, to the clocked stockings.

“Are we not to have our walk to-day?” said she.

I was looking at her in a maze.  “Where is your brooch?” says I.

She carried her hand to her bosom and coloured high.  “I will have forgotten it,” said she.  “I will run upstairs for it quick, and then surely we’ll can have our walk?”

There was a note of pleading in that last that staggered me; I had neither words nor voice to utter them; I could do no more than nod by way of answer; and the moment she had left me, climbed into the tree and recovered my flower, which on her return I offered her.

“I bought it for you, Catriona,” said I.

She fixed it in the midst of her bosom with the brooch, I could have thought tenderly.

“It is none the better of my handling,” said I again, and blushed.

“I will be liking it none the worse, you may be sure of that,” said she.

We did not speak so much that day, she seemed a thought on the reserve though not unkindly.  As for me, all the time of our walking, and after we came home, and I had seen her put my flower into a pot of water, I was thinking to myself what puzzles women were.  I was thinking, the one moment, it was the most stupid thing on earth she should not have perceived my love; and the next, that she had certainly perceived it long ago, and (being a wise girl with the fine female instinct of propriety) concealed her knowledge.

We had our walk daily.  Out in the streets I felt more safe; I relaxed a little in my guardedness; and for one thing, there was no Heineccius.  This made these periods not only a relief to myself, but a particular pleasure to my poor child.  When I came back about the hour appointed, I would generally find her ready dressed and glowing with anticipation.  She would prolong their duration to the extreme, seeming to dread (as I did myself) the hour of the return;