St. Ives: Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England by Stevenson (books for new readers TXT) 📕

and the night young, a good road under foot, and the world before you!

I had left them once somewhat unceremoniously; I could not attempt it a second time; and, burthened as I was with Mr. Rowley, I was really glad of assistance.  But I saw the lamps of Edinburgh draw near on their hill-top with a good deal of uneasiness, which increased, after we had entered the lighted streets, to positive alarm.  All the passers-by were addressed, some of them by name.  A worthy man was stopped by Forbes.  ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘in the name of the Senatus of the University of Cramond, I confer upon you the degree of LL.D.,’ and with the words he bonneted him.  Conceive the predicament of St. Ives, committed to the society of these outrageous youths, in a town where the police and his cousin were both looking for him!  So far, we had pursued our way unmolested, although raising a clamour fit to wake the dead; but at last, in Abercromby Place, I believe—at least it was a crescent of highly respectable houses fronting on a garden—Byfield and I, having fallen somewhat in the rear with Rowley, came to a simultaneous halt.  Our ruffians were beginning to wrench off bells and door-plates!

‘Oh, I say!’ says Byfield, ‘this is too much of a good thing!  Confound it, I’m a respectable man—a public character, by George!  I can’t afford to get taken up by the police.’

‘My own case exactly,’ said I.

‘Here, let’s bilk them,’ said he.

And we turned back and took our way down hill again.

It was none too soon: voices and alarm bells sounded; watchmen here and there began to spring their rattles; it was plain the University of Cramond would soon be at blows with the police of Edinburgh!  Byfield and I, running the semi-inanimate Rowley before us, made good despatch, and did not stop till we were several streets away, and the hubbub was already softened by distance.

‘Well, sir,’ said he, ‘we are well out of that!  Did ever any one see such a pack of young barbarians?’

‘We are properly punished, Mr. Byfield; we had no business there,’ I replied.

‘No, indeed, sir, you may well say that!  Outrageous!  And my ascension announced for Friday, you know!’ cried the aeronaut.  ‘A pretty scandal!  Byfield the aeronaut at the police-court!  Tut-tut!  Will you be able to get your rascal home, sir?  Allow me to offer you my card.  I am staying at Walker and Poole’s Hotel, sir, where I should be pleased to see you.’

‘The pleasure would be mutual, sir,’ said I, but I must say my heart was not in my words, and as I watched Mr. Byfield departing I desired nothing less than to pursue the acquaintance

One more ordeal remained for me to pass.  I carried my senseless load upstairs to our lodging, and was admitted by the landlady in a tall white nightcap and with an expression singularly grim.  She lighted us into the sitting-room; where, when I had seated Rowley in a chair, she dropped me a cast-iron courtesy.  I smelt gunpowder on the woman.  Her voice, tottered with emotion.

‘I give ye nottice, Mr. Ducie,’ said she.  ‘Dacent folks’ houses . . .’

And at that apparently temper cut off her utterance, and she took herself off without more words.

I looked about me at the room, the goggling Rowley, the extinguished fire; my mind reviewed the laughable incidents of the day and night; and I laughed out loud to myself—lonely and cheerless laughter!.......