kind of a farewell after all; I
shall always ken Miss Drummond, but this is a farewell to my Catriona."

I looked at her; I could hardly say I saw her, but she seemed to grow
great and brighten in my eyes; and with that I suppose I must have lost
my head, for I called out her name again and made a step at her with my
hands reached forth.

She shrank back like a person struck, her face flamed; but the blood
sprang no faster up into her cheeks, than what it flowed back upon my
own heart, at sight of it, with penitence and concern. I found no words
to excuse myself, but bowed before her very deep, and went my ways out
of the house with death in my bosom.

I think it was about five days that followed without any change. I saw
her scarce ever but at meals, and then of course in the company of James
More. If we were alone even for a moment, I made it my devoir to behave
the more distantly and to multiply respectful attentions, having always
in my mind's eye that picture of the girl shrinking and flaming in a
blush, and in my heart more pity for her than I could depict in words. I
was sorry enough for myself, I need not dwell on that, having fallen all
my length and more than all my height in a few seconds; but, indeed, I
was near as sorry for the girl, and sorry enough to be scarce angry with
her save by fits and starts. Her plea was good: she was but a child; she
had been placed in an unfair position; if she had deceived herself and
me, it was no more than was to have been looked for.

And for another thing she was now very much alone. Her father, when he
was by, was rather a caressing parent; but he was very easy led away by
his affairs and pleasures, neglected her without compunction or remark,
spent his nights in taverns when he had the money, which was more often
than I could at all account for; and even in the course of these few
days, failed once to come to a meal, which Catriona and I were at last
compelled to partake of without him. It was the evening meal, and I left
immediately that I had eaten, observing I supposed she would prefer to
be alone; to which she agreed and (strange as it may seem) I quite
believed her. Indeed, I thought myself but an eyesore to the girl, and a
reminder of a moment's weakness that she now abhorred to think of. So
she must sit alone in that room where she and I had been so merry, and
in the blink of that chimney whose light had shone upon our many
difficult and tender moments. There