“But perhaps we go too fast,” said I. “This may be a lie too. He may have no right orders; all may be contrived by Simon, and your father knowing nothing.”
She burst out weeping between the pair of us; and my heart smote me hard, for I thought this girl was in a dreadful situation.
“Here,” said I, “keep him but the one hour; and I’ll chance it, and may God bless you.”
She put out her hand to me, “I will he needing one good word,” she sobbed.
“The full hour, then?” said I, keeping her hand in mine. “Three lives of it, my lass!”
“The full hour!” she said, and cried aloud on her Redeemer to forgive her.
I thought it no fit place for me, and fled.
CHAPTER XI.
THE WOOD BY SILVERMILLS
I lost no time, but down through the valley and by Stockbridge and Silvermills as hard as I could stave. It was Alan’s tryst to be every night between twelve and two “in a bit scrog of wood by east of Silvermills and by south the south mill-lade.” This I found easy enough, where it grew on a steep brae, with the mill-lade flowing swift and deep along the foot of it; and here I began to walk slower and to reflect more reasonably on my employment. I saw I had made but a fool’s bargain with Catriona. It was not to be supposed that Neil was sent alone upon his errand, but perhaps he was the only man belonging to James More; in which case I should have done all I could to hang Catriona’s father, and nothing the least material to help myself. To tell the truth, I fancied neither one of these ideas. Suppose by holding back Neil, the girl should have helped to hang her father, I thought she would never forgive herself this side of time. And suppose there were others pursuing me that moment, what kind of a gift was I come bringing to Alan? and how would I like that?
I was up with the west end of that wood when these two considerations struck me like a cudgel. My feet stopped of themselves and my heart along with them. “What wild game is this that I have been playing?” thought I; and turned instantly upon my heels to go elsewhere.