You are true, you are brave; in
time I think you will be more of a man yet. I will be proud to
hear of that. If you should speed worse, if it will come to fall
as we are afraid--O well! think you have the one friend. Long
after you are dead and me an old wife, I will be telling the bairns
about David Balfour, and my tears running. I will be telling how
we parted, and what I said to you, and did to you. GOD GO WITH YOU
AND GUIDE YOU, PRAYS YOUR LITTLE FRIEND: so I said--I will be
telling them--and here is what I did."
She took up my hand and kissed it. This so surprised my spirits
that I cried out like one hurt. The colour came strong in her
face, and she looked at me and nodded.
"O yes, Mr. David," said she, "that is what I think of you. The
head goes with the lips."
I could read in her face high spirit, and a chivalry like a brave
child's; not anything besides. She kissed my hand, as she had
kissed Prince Charlie's, with a higher passion than the common kind
of clay has any sense of. Nothing before had taught me how deep I
was her lover, nor how far I had yet to climb to make her think of
me in such a character.
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