The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson – Swanston Edition. Volume 12

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Robert Louis Stevenson. The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson – Swanston Edition. Volume 12

PREFACE

CHAPTER I. SUMMARY OF EVENTS DURING THE MASTER’S WANDERINGS

CHAPTER II. SUMMARY OF EVENTS (continued)

CHAPTER III. THE MASTER’S WANDERINGS

CHAPTER IV. PERSECUTIONS ENDURED BY MR. HENRY

CHAPTER V. ACCOUNT OF ALL THAT PASSED ON THE NIGHT OF FEBRUARY 27TH, 1757

CHAPTER VI. SUMMARY OF EVENTS DURING THE MASTER’S SECOND ABSENCE

CHAPTER VII. ADVENTURE OF CHEVALIER BURKE IN INDIA

CHAPTER VIII. THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

CHAPTER IX. MR. MACKELLAR’S JOURNEY WITH THE MASTER

CHAPTER X. PASSAGES AT NEW YORK

CHAPTER XI. THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

CHAPTER XII. THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS (continued)

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Although an old, consistent exile, the editor of the following pages revisits now and again the city of which he exults to be a native; and there are few things more strange, more painful, or more salutary, than such revisitations. Outside, in foreign spots, he comes by surprise and awakens more attention than he had expected; in his own city, the relation is reversed, and he stands amazed to be so little recollected. Elsewhere he is refreshed to see attractive faces, to remark possible friends; there he scouts the long streets, with a pang at heart, for the faces and friends that are no more. Elsewhere he is delighted with the presence of what is new, there tormented by the absence of what is old. Elsewhere he is content to be his present self; there he is smitten with an equal regret for what he once was and for what he once hoped to be.

He was feeling all this dimly, as he drove from the station, on his last visit; he was feeling it still as he alighted at the door of his friend Mr. Johnstone Thomson, W.S., with whom he was to stay. A hearty welcome, a face not altogether changed, a few words that sounded of old days, a laugh provoked and shared, a glimpse in passing of the snowy cloth and bright decanters and the Piranesis on the dining-room wall, brought him to his bed-room with a somewhat lightened cheer, and when he and Mr. Thomson sat down a few minutes later, cheek by jowl, and pledged the past in a preliminary bumper, he was already almost consoled, he had already almost forgiven himself his two unpardonable errors, that he should ever have left his native city, or ever returned to it.

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June the 1st, 1748, was the day of their marriage. It was December of the same year that first saw me alighting at the doors of the great house; and from there I take up the history of events as they befell under my own observation, like a witness in a court.

Then the Colonel turns to Mrs. Henry, bowing with his hat upon his heart and the most killing airs of gallantry. “There can be no mistake about so fine a figure of a lady,” says he. “I address the seductive Miss Alison, of whom I have so often heard?”

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