She came out of the ordinary clinging to me close. "Take me away,
David," she said. "YOU keep me. I am not afraid with you."
"And have no cause, my little friend!" cried I, and could have
found it in my heart to weep.
"Where will you be taking me?" she said again. "Don't leave me at
all events--never leave me."
"Where am I taking you to?" says I stopping, for I had been staving
on ahead in mere blindness. "I must stop and think. But I'll not
leave you, Catriona; the Lord do so to me, and more also, if I
should fail or fash you."
She crept close into me by way of a reply.
"Here," I said, "is the stillest place we have hit on yet in this
busy byke of a city. Let us sit down here under yon tree and
consider of our course."
That tree (which I am little like to forget) stood hard by the
harbour side. It was like a black night, but lights were in the
houses, and nearer hand in the quiet ships; there was a shining of
the city on the one hand, and a buzz hung over it of many thousands
walking and talking; on the other, it was dark and the water
bubbled on the sides.
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