Hard as I feigned to study, there was still some of my eyesight that spilled beyond the book upon Catriona.

She sat on the floor by the side of my great mail, and the chimney lighted her up, and shone and blinked upon her, and made her glow and darken through a wonder of fine hues.

Now she would be gazing in the fire, and then again at me; and at that I would be plunged in a terror of myself, and turn the pages of Heineccius like a man looking for the text in church.
Suddenly she called out aloud, "O, why does not my father come ?" she cried, and fell at once into a storm of tears.
I leaped up, flung Heineccius fairly into the fire, ran to her side, and cast an arm around her sobbing body.
She put me from her sharply.

"You do not love your friend," says she.

"I could be so happy too, if you would let me!" And then, "O, what will I have done that you should hate me so ?" "Hate you!" cries I, and held her firm.