CHAPTER XXVIII.
IN WHICH I AM LEFT ALONE I opened the door to Catriona and stopped her on the threshold.
"Your father wishes us to take our walk," said I.
She looked to James More, who nodded, and at that, like a trained soldier, she turned to go with me.
We took one of our old ways, where we had gone often together, and been more happy than I can tell of in the past.

I came a half a step behind, so that I could watch her unobserved.

The knocking of her little shoes upon the way sounded extraordinary pretty and sad; and I thought it a strange moment that I should be so near both ends of it at once, and walk in the midst between two destinies, and could not tell whether I was hearing these steps for the last time, or whether the sound of them was to go in and out with me till death should part us.
She avoided even to look at me, only walked before her, like one who had a guess of what was coming.

I saw I must speak soon before my courage was run out, but where to begin I knew not.

In this painful situation, when the girl was as good as forced into my arms and had already besought my forbearance, any excess of pressure must have seemed indecent; yet to avoid it wholly would have a very cold-like appearance.
Between these extremes I stood helpless, and could have bit my fingers; so that, when at last I managed to speak at all, it may be said I spoke at random.
"Catriona," said I, "I am in a very painful situation; or rather, so we are both; and I would be a good deal obliged to you if you would promise to let me speak through first of all, and not to interrupt till I have done." She promised me that simply.
"Well," said I, "this that I have got to say is very difficult, and I know very well I have no right to be saying it.