"You can make no hand of this, Davie," thinks I. "To bed with you
like a wise lad, and try if you can sleep. To-morrow you may see
your way."
CHAPTER XXV--THE RETURN OF JAMES MORE
I was called on the morrow out of a late and troubled slumber by a
knocking on my door, ran to open it, and had almost swooned with
the contrariety of my feelings, mostly painful; for on the
threshold, in a rough wraprascal and an extraordinary big laced
hat, there stood James More.
I ought to have been glad perhaps without admixture, for there was
a sense in which the man came like an answer to prayer. I had been
saying till my head was weary that Catriona and I must separate,
and looking till my head ached for any possible means of
separation. Here were the means come to me upon two legs, and joy
was the hindmost of my thoughts. It is to be considered, however,
that even if the weight of the future were lifted off me by the
man's arrival, the present heaved up the more black and menacing;
so that, as I first stood before him in my shirt and breeches, I
believe I took a leaping step backward like a person shot.
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