"
Then she began to question me close upon his looks and character,
for we were each a great deal concerned in all that touched the
other; till at last, in a very evil hour, I minded of his letters
and went and fetched the bundle from the cabin.
"Here are his letters," said I, "and all the letters that ever I
got. That will be the last I'll can tell of myself; ye know the
lave {26} as well as I do."
"Will you let me read them, then?" says she.
I told her, IF SHE WOULD BE AT THE PAINS; and she bade me go away
and she would read them from the one end to the other. Now, in
this bundle that I gave her, there were packed together not only
all the letters of my false friend, but one or two of Mr.
Campbell's when he was in town at the Assembly, and to make a
complete roll of all that ever was written to me, Catriona's little
word, and the two I had received from Miss Grant, one when I was on
the Bass and one on board that ship. But of these last I had no
particular mind at the moment.
I was in that state of subjection to the thought of my friend that
it mattered not what I did, nor scarce whether I was in her
presence or out of it; I had caught her like some kind of a noble
fever that lived continually in my bosom, by night and by day, and
whether I was waking or asleep.
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