 28 I go in quest of my inheritance. I made what change I could in my appearance, and blithe was I to look in the glass and find the beggarman, a thing of the past, and David Balfour come to life again. And yet I was ashamed of the change, too, and above all of the borrowed clothes. When I had done, Mr. Rancaller caught me on the stair, made me his compliments, and had me again into the cabinet. "'Sit you down, Mr. David,' said he, and now you are looking a little more like yourself. Let me see if I can find you any news. You will be wondering no doubt about your father and your uncle? To be sure, it is a singular tale, and the explanation is one that I blushed to have to offer you. For,' says he, really with embarrassment, the matter hinges on a love affair. "'Truly,' said I, I cannot very well join that notion with my uncle.' "'But your uncle, Mr. David, was not always old,' replied the lawyer. "'And what may perhaps surprise you more? Not always ugly. He had a fine gallant air. People stood in their doors to look after him, as he went by upon a metal horse. I have seen it with these eyes, and I ingenuously confess, not altogether without envy, for I was a plain lad myself and a plain man's son, and in those days it was a case of Odie Te, K. Belis S. Sabel. "'It sounds like a dream,' said I. "'Hi, hi,' said the lawyer. That is how it is with youth and age. Nor was that all, but he had a spirit of his own that seemed to promise great things in the future. In 2015, what must he do but run away to join the rebels? It was your father that pursued him, found him in a ditch, and brought him back, multum gementum, to the mirth of the whole country. However, Majora Canamus, the two lads, fell in love, and that was the same lady. Mr. Ebenezer, who was the admired and the beloved, and the spoiled one, made no doubt mighty certain of the victory, and when he found he had deceived himself, screamed like a peacock. The whole country heard of it. Now he lay sick at home, with his silly family standing round the bed in tears. Now he rode from public-house to public-house, and shouted his sorrows into the lug of Tom, Dick, and Harry. Your father, Mr. David, was a kind gentleman, but he was weak, dolefully weak. Took all this folly with a long countenance, and one day, by your leave, resigned the lady. She was no such fool, however. It's from her you must inherit your excellent good sense, and she refused to be bandied from one to another. Both got upon their knees to her, and the upshot of the matter for that while was that she showed both of them the door. That was in August, dear me, the same year I came from college. The scene must have been highly farcical. I thought myself it was a silly business, but I could not forget my father had a hand in it. Surely, sir, it had some note of tragedy, said I. Why, no, sir, not at all, returned the lawyer. For tragedy implies some ponderable matter in dispute, some dignus vandice nodus. And this piece of work was all about the petulance of a young ass that had been spoiled, and wanted nothing so much as to be tied up and soundly belted. However, that was not your father's view, and the end of it was that from concession to concession on your father's part, and from one height to another of squalling sentimental selfishness upon your uncles, they came at last to drive a sort of bargain from whose ill results you have recently been smarting. The one man took the lady, the other the estate. Now, Mr. David, they talk a great deal of charity and generosity, but in this disputable state of life I often think the happiest consequences seem to flow when a gentleman consults his lawyer and takes all the law allows him. Anyhow, this piece of kiyotri, on your father's part, as it was unjust in itself, has brought forth a monstrous family of injustices. Your father and mother lived and died poor folk, you were poorly reared, and in the meanwhile, what a time it has been for the tenants on the estate of Shaw's. And I might add, if it was a matter I cared much about, what a time for Mr. Ebenezer. "'And yet that is certainly the strangest part of all,' said I, that a man's nature should thus change. "'True,' said Mr. Rankeiler, and yet I imagine it was natural enough. He could not think that he had played a handsome part. Those who knew the story gave him the cold shoulder. Those who knew it not, seeing one brother disappear, and the other succeed in the estate, raised to cry of murder, so that upon all sides he found himself evicted. Money was all he got by his bargain. Well, he came to think the more of money. He was selfish when he was young. He is selfish now that he is old, and the latter end of all these pretty manners and fine feelings you have seen for yourself. "'Well, sir,' said I, "'and in all this what is my position?' "'The state is yours beyond a doubt,' replied the lawyer. "'It matters nothing what your father signed. You are the heir of Entail. But your uncle is a man to fight the indefensible, and it would be likely your identity that he would call in question. A lawsuit is always expensive, and a family lawsuit always scandalous, besides which, if any of your doings with your friend Mr. Thompson were to come out, we might find that we had burned our fingers. The kidnapping, to be sure, would be a court card upon our side if we could only prove it. But it may be difficult to prove, and my advice upon the whole is to make a very easy bargain with your uncle, perhaps even leaving him at Shaw's, where he has taken root for a quarter of a century, and contenting yourself in the meanwhile with a fair provision. I told him I was very willing to be easy, and that to carry family concerns before the public was a step from which I was naturally much averse. In the meantime, thinking to myself, I began to see the outlines of that scheme on which we afterwards acted. The great affair, I asked, is to bring home to him the kidnapping? Surely, said Mr. Rancaylor, and if possible, out of court. For mark you here, Mr. David, we could no doubt find some men of the Covenant who would swear to your reclusion, but once they were in the box we could no longer check their testimony, and some word of your friend Mr. Thomson must certainly crop out, which from what you have let fall I cannot think to be desirable. Well, sir, said I, here is my way of it, and I opened my plot to him. But this would seem to involve my meeting the man Thomson, says he, when I had done. I think so, indeed, sir, said I. Dear doctor! cries he, rubbing his brow. Dear doctor! No, Mr. David, I am afraid your scheme is inadmissible. I say nothing against your friend Mr. Thomson. I know nothing about him, and if I did, mark this, Mr. David, it would be my duty to lay hands on him. Now I put it to you. Is it wise to meet? He may have matters to his charge. He may not have told you all. His name may not be even Thomson, cries the lawyer, twinkling, for some of these fellows will pick up names by the roadside as another would gather Hawes. You must be the judge, sir, said I. But it was clear my plan had taken hold upon his fancy, for he kept amusing to himself till we were called to dinner, and the company of Mrs. Rancaylor, and that lady had scarce left us again to ourselves and a bottle of wine ere he was back harping on my proposal. When and where was I to meet my friend Mr. Thomson? Was I sure of Mr. T's discretion, supposing we could catch the old fox tripping? Would I consent to such and such a term of an agreement? These and the like questions he kept asking at long intervals, while he thoughtfully rolled his wine upon his tongue. When I had answered all of them, seemingly to his contentment, he fell into a still deeper muse, even the claret being now forgotten. Then he got a sheet of paper and a pencil, and set to work writing and weighing every word, and at last touched a bell and had his clerk into the chamber. Torrance, said he, I must have this written out fair against to-night, and when it is done you'll be so kind as to put on your hat and be ready to come along with this gentleman and me, for you will probably be wanted as a witness. What, sir? cried I, as soon as the clerk was gone. Are you to venture it? Why, so it would appear, says he, filling his glass, but let us speak no more of business. The very sight of Torrance brings him I had a little troll matter of some years ago, when I had made a trist with the poor oaf at the cross of Edinburgh. Each had gone his proper errand, and when it came four o'clock Torrance had been taking a glass and did not know his master, and I, who had forgot my spectacles, was so blind without them, that I give you my word I did not know my own clerk, and thereupon he laughed heartily. I said it was an odd chance, and smiled out of politeness, but what held me all the afternoon in wonder he kept returning and dwelling on this story and telling it again with fresh details and laughter, so that I began at last to be quite put out of countenance and feel ashamed for my friend's folly. Towards the time I had appointed with Alan we set out from the house Mr. Rangkeiler and I arm in arm, and Torrance following behind with the deed in his pocket and a covered basket in his hand. All through the town the lawyer was bowing right and left, and continually being button-holed by gentlemen on matters of burg or private business, and I could see he was one greatly looked up to in the county. At last we were clear of the houses, and began to go along the side of the haven and towards the Hawes Inn and the ferry pier, the scene of my misfortune. I could not look upon the place without emotion, recalling how many that had been there with me that day were now no more. Ransom taken, I could hope, from the evil to come. Shew unpast where I dared not follow him. And the poor souls that had gone down with the brig in her last plunge. All these and the brig herself I had outlived, and come through these hardships and fearful perils without scathe. My only thought should have been of gratitude, and yet I could not behold the place without sorrow for others, and a chill of recollected fear. I was so thinking when, upon a sudden, Mr. Rangkeiler cried out, clapped his hand to his pockets, and began to laugh. Why, he cries, if this be not a farcical adventure, after all that I said I have forgot my glasses! At that, of course, I understood the purpose of his anecdote, and knew that if he had left his spectacles at home it had been done on purpose, so that he might have the benefit of Alan's help without the awkwardness of recognizing him. And indeed it was well thought upon, for now, suppose things to go the very worst. How could Rangkeiler swear to my friend's identity, or how be made to bear damaging evidence against myself? For all that he had been a long while of finding out his want, and had spoken to and recognized a good few persons as we came through the town, and I had little doubt myself that he saw reasonably well. As soon as we were past the haws, where I recognized the landlord smoking his pipe at the door, and was amazed to see him look no older, Mr. Rangkeiler changed the order of March, walking behind with Torrance and sending me forward in the manner of a scout. I went up the hill whistling from time to time my Gaelic air, and at length I had the pleasure to hear it answered, and to see Alan rise from behind a bush. He was somewhat dashed in spirits, having passed a long day alone skulking in the county, and made but a poor meal in an ale house near Dundas. But at the mere sight of my clothes he began to brighten up, and as soon as I had told him in what a forward state our matters were, and the part I looked to him to play in what remained, he sprang into a new man. "'And this is a very good notion of yours,' said he, and I dared to say that you could lay your hands upon no better man to put it through than Alan Brick. It is not a thing, Markia, that anyone could do, but takes a gentleman of penetration. But it sticks in my head your lawyer man will be somewhat wearying to see me,' says Alan. Accordingly I cried and waved on Mr. Rancyler, who came up alone and was presented to my friend Mr. Thompson. "'Mr. Thompson, I am pleased to meet you,' said he. "'But I have forgotten my glasses, and our friend Mr. David here,' slapping me on the shoulder, will tell you that I am little better than blind, and that you must not be surprised if I pass you by to-morrow.' This, he said, thinking that Alan would be pleased, but the Highland man's vanity was ready to straddle at a less manner than that. "'Why, sir,' says he, stiffly, "'I would say it mattered the less as we are met here for a particular end, to see just as done to Mr. Balfour, and by what I can see not very likely to have much else in common. But I accept your apology, which was a very proper one to make.' "'And that is more than I could look for, Mr. Thompson,' said Rancyler heartily. "'And now, as you and I are the chief actors in this enterprise, I think we should come into a nice agreement. To which end, I propose that you should lend me your arm. For what were the dusk and the want of my glasses, I am not very clear as to the path. And as for you, Mr. David, you will find Torrance a pleasant kind of body to speak with. Only let me remind you, it's quite needless, he should hear more of your adventures, or those of Mr. Thompson.' Accordingly these two went on ahead in very close talk, and Torrance and I brought up the rear. Night was quite come when we came in view of the House of Shaw's. Ten had been gone some time. It was dark and mild, with a pleasant rustling wind in the south-west that covered the sound of our approach, and as we drew near we saw no glimmer of light in any portion of the building. It seemed my uncle was already in bed, which was indeed the best thing for our arrangements. We made our last whispered consultation some fifty yards away, and then the lawyer and Torrance and I crept quietly up and crouched down beside the corner of the House, and as soon as we were in our places, Alan strode to the door without concealment and began to knock. CHAPTER XXIX OF KIDNAPPED This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. CHAPTER XXIX I COME INTO MY KINGDOM For some time Alan volleied upon the door and his knocking only roused the echoes of the House and neighborhood. At last, however, I could hear the noise of a window gently thrust up and knew that my uncle had come to his observatory. By what light there was, he could see Alan standing like a dark shadow on the steps. The three witnesses were hidden quite out of his view, so that there was nothing to alarm an honest man in his own House. For all that he studied his visitor a while in silence, and when he spoke his voice at a quaver of misgiving. What's this? says he. This is not kind of time of night for decent folk, and I have no trokings with night-hawks. What brings you here? I have a blunderbush. Is that yourself, Mr. Balfour? returned Alan, stepping back and looking up into the darkness. Have a care of that blunderbush, then nasty things to burst. What brings you here? And what are you? says my uncle angrily. I have no matter of inclination to rout out my name to the country side, said Alan. But what brings me here is another story, saying more of your affair than mine, and if you're sure it's what you would like, I'll set it to a tune and sing it to you. And what is it? asked my uncle. David, says Alan. What was that? cried my uncle in a mighty changed voice. Shall I give you the rest of the name, then? said Alan. There was a pause, and then— I'm thinking I'd better let you in, said my uncle doubtfully. I dare say that, said Alan. But the point is, would I go? Now I will tell you what I am thinking. I am thinking that it is here upon this doorstep that we must confer upon this business, and it shall be here or nowhere at all whatever, for I would have you to understand that I am as stiff-necked as yourself and a gentleman of better family. This change of note disconcerted Ebenezer. He was a little wild digesting it, and then says he— Well, well, what must be must?—and shut the window. But it took him a long time to get downstairs and a still longer to undo the fastenings, repenting, I dare say, and taking with fresh claps of fear at every second step and every bolt and bar. At last, however, we heard the creak of the hinges, and it seems my uncle slipped gingerly out, and, seeing that Alan had stepped back a pace or two, set him down on the top doorstep with a blunderbuss ready in his hands. And now, says he, mind I have my blunderbush, and if you take a step nearer, you're as good as deed. Very civil speech, says Alan, to be sure. Nah, says my uncle, but this is no very chanty kind of a proceeding, and I'm bound to be prepared. And now that we understand each other, you can name your business. Why, says Alan, you that are a man of so much understanding, will doubtless have perceived that I am a Highland gentleman. My name is no business in my story, but the county of my friends is not so very far from the Isle of Mull, of which you will have heard. It seems there was a ship lost in those parts, and the next day a gentleman of my family was seeking wreck wood for his fire along the sands when he came upon a lad that was half-drowned. Well, he brought him, too, and he and some other gentleman took and clapped him in an old, ruined castle, where from that day to this he has been a great expense to my friends. My friends are a wee wide-like, not so particular about the law as some that I could name, and finding that the lad owned some decent folk, and was your born nephew, Mr. Balfour, that asked me to give you a bit of call and confer upon the matter. And I may tell you at the off-go, unless we can agree upon some terms, you are a little likely to set eyes upon him. For my friends, added Allen, simply, are no very well off. My uncle cleared his throat. I'm no very caring, says he. He was not good lad at the best of it, and I'd no call thee under fear. I, I, said Allen, I see what you would be at pretending you don't care to make the ransom smaller. Nah, said my uncle, it's the mere truth. I take no matter of interest in the lad, and I pay no ransom, and you can make a kirk and a mill of him for what I care. Who'd, sir? says Allen, blood sticker than water in the devil's name. You cannot desert your brother's son for the fair shame of it, and if you did, and it came to be Kent, you wouldn't be very popular in your countryside, or I'm the more deceived. I know very popular the way it is, returned Ebenezer, and I didn't see how it would come to be Kent. No by me, anyway, nor yet by Hugh or your friends. So let's idle talk, me bucky, says he. Then'll have to be David that tells it, said Allen. How's that? says my uncle, sharply. Oh, just this way, says Allen. My friends would doubtless keep your nephew as long as there was any likelihood of Sillard to be made of it, but if there was none, I am clearly of opinion they would let him gang where he pleased and be damned to him. Aye, but I'm no very caring about that either, said my uncle. I wouldn't be muckled made up with that. I was thinkin' that, said Allen. And what for, why? asked Ebenezer. Why, Mr. Balfour, replied Allen, by all that I could hear, there were two ways of it. Either you liked David and would pay to get him back, or else you had very good reasons for now wanting him and would pay for us to keep him. It seems it's not the first. Well, then it's the second, and blithe am I to ken it, for it should be a pretty penny in my pocket in the pocket of my friends. I didn't follow you there, said my uncle. No, said Allen. Well, see here, you didn't want the lad back. Well, what do you want done with him, and how much will you pay? My uncle made no answer, but shifted uneasily on his seat. Come, sir, cried Allen, I would have you to ken that I am a gentleman. I bear a king's name. I am no rider to kick my shanks at your hall door. Either give me an answer in civility and that out of hand, or by the top of Glencoe I will ram three feet of iron through your vitals. A man, cried my uncle, scrambling to his feet, give me a mean it. What's like wrong with you? I'm just a plain man and no dance and master, and I'm trying to be as civil as is morally possible. As for that wild talk is fair, disreputable. Vitals is you, and where would I be with my blunderbush? He snarled. Powder and your old hands are but as the snail to the swallow against the bright steel in the hands of Allen, says the other, before your jotter in finger could find the hilt wood-durl on your breast-bane. A man, where's denying it? says my uncle. Pitted as you please, head your own way. I did nothing across here. Just tell me what you'll be wanting, and you'll see that we can agree fine. Troth, sir, said Allen, I ask for nothing but plain dealing. In two words, do you want the land killed or kept? Oh, sirs, cried Ebenezer. Oh, sirs, me, that's no kind of language. Killed or kept, repeated Allen. Oh, kept it, kept it, wailed my uncle. We're having a bloodshed, if you please. Well, said Allen, as you please, that'll be the dearer. The dearer, cries Ebenezer, would you file your hands crime? Hoot, said Allen. They're both crime, whatever, and the killing's easier and quicker insurer, keeping the ladle be a fascist job, a fascist-kiddle business. I'll have him keep to though, to return my uncle. I never had nothing to do with anything morally wrong, and I'm no going to begin the pleasure of wild highlymaned. Your uncle's groupless, sneered Allen. I'm a man of principle, said Ebenezer, simply. And if I have to pay for it, I'll have to pay for it. And besides, says he, you forgot the lads, my brother's son. Well, well, said Allen, and now about the price. There's no very easy for me to set a name upon it. I would first have to ken some small matters. I would have to ken, for instance, what you gave Ho season at the first off-go. Ho season, cries my uncle, struck her back. What for? For kidnapping David, says Allen. It's a lie, it's a black lie! cried my uncle. He was never kidnapped. He laid in his throat that he told you that. Kidnapped! He never was. That's no fault of mine, nor yet of yours, said Allen. Nor yet of Ho season's, if he's a man that can be trusted. What do you mean? cried Ebenezer. Did Ho season tell you? Why, you donnerd old runt, how else would I ken? cried Allen. Ho season and me are partners. We gang shares. So you can see for yourself what good you can do lie in. And I must plainly say you drove a fool's bargain when you let a man like the sailor man so far forward in your private matters. But that's past praying for, and you must lie on your bed the way you made it. And the point in hand is just this. What did you pay him? Has he told you himself? asked my uncle. That's my concern. said Allen. We'll, said my uncle. I didn't care what he said. He laid. And the solemn God's truth is this, that I gave him twenty pound. But I'll be perfectly honest with you. For by that he was to have the selen of the lad in Carolinie. Work would be his muck o' mare, but no from my pocket, you see. Thank you, Mr. Thompson. That will do excellently well, said the lawyer, stepping forward, and then mighty civilly. Good evening, Mr. Balfour, said he. And Good evening, Uncle Abenezer, said I. And Balfour, added Torrance. Never a word said my uncle, neither black nor white, but just sat where he was on the top doorstep and stared upon us like a man turned to stone. Allen filched away his blunderbuss and the lawyer, taking him by the arm, plucked him up from the doorstep, led him into the kitchen, whither we all followed, and set him down in a chair beside the hearth where the fire was out and only a rush light burning. There we all looked upon him for a while, exulting greatly in our success, but yet with a sort of pity for the man's shame. Come, come, Mr. Abenezer, said the lawyer, you must not be downhearted for I promise you we should make easy terms. In the meanwhile give us the cellar key and Torrance shall draw us a bottle of your father's wine in honour of the event. Then turning to me by the hand, Mr. David, says he, I wish you all joy in your good fortune which I believe to be deserved. And then to Allen with a spice of drollery, Mr. Thompson, I pay you my compliment, it was most artfully conducted, but in one point you somewhat outran my comprehension. Do I understand your name to be James or Charles or is it George perhaps? And why should it be any of the three, sir? Quoth Allen drawing himself up like one who smelt an offense. Only, sir, that you mentioned a king's name, replied Rancaylor, and as there has never yet been a king Thompson, or his fame at least has never come my way, I judged you must refer to that you had in baptism. This was just the stab that Allen would feel keenest and I am free to confess he took it very ill. Not a word would he answer but stepped off to the far end of the kitchen and sat down and sulked and it was not till I stepped after him and gave him my hand and thanked him by title as the chief spring of my success that it began to smile a bit and was at last prevailed upon to join our party. By that time we had the fire lighted and a bottle of wine uncorked, a good supper came out of the basket to which Torrance and I and Allen set ourselves down while the lawyer and my uncle passed into the next chamber to consult. They stayed there closeted about an hour at the end of which period they had come to a good understanding and my uncle and I set our hands to the agreement in a formal manner. By the terms of this my uncle bound himself to satisfy Rancaylor as to his intramissions and to pay me two clear thirds of the yearly income of Shaw's. So the beggar in the ballot had come home and when I lay down that night on the kitchen chests I was a man of means and had a name in the country. Allen and Torrance and Rancaylor slept and snored on their hard beds but for me who had lain out under heaven and upon dirt and stones so many days and nights and often with an empty belly and in fear of death this good change in my case would demand me more than any of the former evil ones and I lay till dawn looking at the fire on the roof and planning the future. End of Chapter Chapter 30 of Kidnapped This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Chapter 30 The Final Chapter Goodbye As far as I was concerned myself I had come to Port but I still had Allen to whom I was so much beholden on my hands and I felt besides a heavy charge in the matter of the murder and James of the Glens on both these heads I unbosomed to Rancaylor the next morning walking to and fro about six o'clock before the House of Shaw's and with nothing in view but the fields and woods that had been my ancestors and were now mine. Even as I spoke on these grave subjects my eye would take a glad bit of a run over the prospect and my heart jump with pride. About my clear duty to my friend the lawyer had no doubt I must help him out of the county at whatever risk but in the case of James he was of a different mind. Mr. Thompson says he is one thing Mr. Thompson's kinsmen quite another I know little of the facts but I gather that a great noble whom we will call if you like the D of A has some concern and is even supposed to feel some animosity in the matter. The D of A is doubtless an excellent nobleman but Mr. David Timio qui no cuere Dios If you interfere to balk his vengeance you should remember there is one way to shut your testimony out and that is to put you in the dock. There you would be in the same pickle as Mr. Thompson's kinsmen you will object that you are innocent well but so is he and to be tried for your life before a Highland jury on a Highland quarrel and with a Highland judge upon the bench would be a brief transition to the gallows. Now I had made all these reasonings before and found no very good reply to them so I put on all the simplicity I could. In that case, sir, said I I would just have to be hanged, would I not? My dear boy! Christ he go in God's name and do what you think is right it is a poor thought that at my time of life I should be advising you to choose the safe and shameful and I take it back with an apology go and do your duty and be hanged if you must like a gentleman there are worse things in the world than to be hanged Not many sir said I, smiling Why yes sir he cried very many it would be ten times better for your uncle to go no further afield if he were dangling decently upon a gibbet there upon he turned into the house still in a great fervor of mind so that I saw I had pleased him heartily and there he wrote me two letters making his comments on them as he wrote this says he is to my bankers the British Lidding Company placing a credit to your name consult Mr. Thomas he will know of ways and you with this credit can supply the means I trust you will be a good husband of your money but in the affair of a friend like Mr. Thompson I would be even prodigal then for his kinsmen there is no better way than that you should seek the advocate tell him your tale and offer testimony whether he may take it or not is quite another matter and will turn on the D of A now that you may reach the Lord Advocate well recommended I give you here a letter to a namesake of your own the learned Mr. Balfour of Pirrig a man whom I esteem it will look better that you should be presented by one of your own name and the Lord of Pirrig is much look up to in the faculty and stands well with Lord Advocate grant I would not trouble him if I were you with any particulars and to you know I think it would be needless to refer to Mr. Thompson form yourself upon the Lord he is a good model when you deal with the advocate he is very discreet and in all these matters may the Lord guide you Mr. David thereupon he took his farewell and set out with torrents for the ferry while Alan and I turned our faces for the city of Edinburgh as we went by the footpath and beside the gate posts and the unfinished lodge we kept looking back at the house of my fathers it stood there bare and great and smokeless like a place not lived in one of the top windows there was the peak of a nightcap bobbing up and down and back and forward like the head of a rabbit from a burrow I had little welcome when I came and less kindness while I stayed but at least I was watched as I went away Alan and I went slowly forward upon our way having little heart either to walk or speak the same thought was uppermost in both that we were near the time of our parting and remembrance of all the bygone days sat upon us sorely we talked indeed of what should be done and it was resolved that Alan should keep to the county biding now here now there but coming once in the day to a particular place where I might be able to communicate with him either in my own person or by messenger in the meanwhile I was to seek out a lawyer who was an appen steward and a man therefore to be wholly trusted and it should be his part to find a ship and to arrange for Alan's safe embarkation no sooner was this business done than the word seemed to leave us and though I would seek the jest with Alan under the name of Mr. Thompson and he with me on my new clothes in my estate you could feel very well that we were nearer tears than laughter we came the byway over the hill of corstorphine we entered to the place called rest and be thankful and looked down on corstorphine bogs and over to the city and the castle on the hill we both stopped for we both knew without a word said that we had come to where our ways parted here he repeated to me once again what had been agreed upon between us the address of the lawyer the daily hour at which Alan might be found and the signals that were to be made by any that came seeking him then I gave what money I had a guinea or two of rankylers so that he should not starve in the meanwhile and then we stood a space and looked over at Edinburgh in silence well, goodbye said Alan and held out his left hand goodbye said I and gave the hand a little grasp and went off downhill neither one of us looked the other in the face nor so long as he was in my view did I take one back glance at the friend I was leaving but as I went on my way to the city I felt so lost and lonesome that I could have found it in my heart to sit down by the dyke and cry and weep like any baby it was coming near noon when I passed in by the West Kirk and the grass market into the streets of the capital the huge height of the buildings running up to ten and fifteen stories the narrow arched entry the continually vomited passengers the wares of the merchants in their windows the hubbub and endless stir the foul smells and the fine clothes and a hundred other particulars too small to mention struck me into a kind of stupor of surprise so that I let the crowd carry me too and fro and yet all the time what I was thinking of was Alan at rest and be thankful and all the time and all the time although you would think I would not choose but be delighted with these bras and novelties there was a cold gnawing in my inside like a remorse for something wrong the hand of Providence brought me in my drifting to the very doors of the British Lening Company's bank end of chapter end of book