Fiction > Book editions > New York, 1893 - David Balfour

DAVID BALFOUR 321
One clay it was snowing downright hard. I had
thought it not possible that we should venture forth,
and was surprised to find her waiting for me ready
dressed.
"I will not be doing without my walk," she cried.
" You are never a good boy, Davie, in the house ; I will
never be caring for you only in the open air. I think
we two will better turn Egyptian and dwell by the
roadside.^'
That was the best Avalk yet of all of them ; she clung
near to mc in the falling snow ; it beat about and
melted on us, and the drops stood upon her bright
cheeks like tears and ran into her smiling mouth.
Strength seemed to come upon me with the sight like a
giant's ; I thought I could have caught her up and run
with her into the uttermost places in the earth ; and we
spoke together all that time beyond belief for freedom
and sweetness.
It was the dark night when we came to the house
door. She joressed my arm upon her bosom. " Thank
you kindly for these same good hours," said she, on a
deep note of her voice.
The concern in which I fell instantly on this address,
put me with the same swiftness on my guard ; and we
were no sooner in the chamber, and the light made, than
she beheld the old, dour, stubborn countenance of the
student of Heineccius. Doubtless she was more than
usually hurt ; and I know for myself, I found it more