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Transcribed from the 1904 Cassell and Company edition by David Price,
email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
CATRIONA
DEDICATION.
TO CHARLES BAXTER, Writer to the Signet.
My Dear Charles,
It is the fate of sequels to disappoint those who have waited for
them; and my David, having been left to kick his heels for more
than a lustre in the British Linen Company's office, must expect
his late re appearance to be greeted with hoots, if not with
missiles. Yet, when I remember the days of our explorations, I am
not without hope. There should be left in our native city some
seed of the elect; some long legged, hot headed youth must repeat
to day our dreams and wanderings of so many years ago; he will
relish the pleasure, which should have been ours, to follow among
named streets and numbered houses the country walks of David
Balfour, to identify Dean, and Silvermills, and Broughton, and Hope
Park, and Pilrig, and poor old Lochend if it still be standing,
and the Figgate Whins if there be any of them left; or to push (on
a long holiday) so far afield as Gillane or the Bass. So, perhaps,
his eye shall be opened to behold the series of the generations,
and he shall weigh with surprise his momentous and nugatory gift of
life.
You are still as when first I saw, as when I last addressed you
in the venerable city which I must always think of as my home. And
I have come so far; and the sights and thoughts of my youth pursue
me; and I see like a vision the youth of my father, and of his
father, and the whole stream of lives flowing down there far in the
north, with the sound of laughter and tears, to cast me out in the
end, as by a sudden freshet, on these ultimate islands. And I
admire and bow my head before the romance of destiny.
R. L. S.
Vailima, Upolu,
Samoa, 1892.
CATRIONA Part I THE LORD ADVOCATE
CHAPTER I A BEGGAR ON HORSEBACK
The 25th day of August, 1751, about two in the afternoon, I, David
Balfour, came forth of the British Linen Company, a porter
attending me with a bag of money, and some of the chief of these
merchants bowing me from their doors. Two days before, and even so
late as yestermorning, I was like a beggar man by the wayside, clad
in rags, brought down to my last shillings, my companion a
condemned traitor, a price set on my own head for a crime with the
news of which the country rang. To day I was served heir to my
position in life, a landed laird, a bank porter by me carrying my
gold, recommendations in my pocket, and (in the words of the
saying) the ball directly at my foot.
There were two circumstances that served me as ballast to so much
sail. The first was the very difficult and deadly business I had
still to handle; the second, the place that I was in. The tall,
black city, and the numbers and movement and noise of so many folk,
made a new world for me, after the moorland braes, the sea sands
and the still country sides that I had frequented up to then. The
throng of the citizens in particular abashed me. Rankeillor's son
was short and small in the girth; his clothes scarce held on me;
and it was plain I was ill qualified to strut in the front of a
bank porter. It was plain, if I did so, I should but set folk
laughing, and (what was worse in my case) set them asking
questions. So that I behooved to come by some clothes of my own,
and in the meanwhile to walk by the porter's side, and put my hand
on his arm as though we were a pair of friends.
At a merchant's in the Luckenbooths I had myself fitted out: none
too fine, for I had no idea to appear like a beggar on horseback;
but comely and responsible, so that servants should respect me.
Thence to an armourer's, where I got a plain sword, to suit with my
degree in life. I felt safer with the weapon, though (for one so
ignorant of defence) it might be called an added danger... Continue reading book >>
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