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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

What is more
essential, my eye (even while I thought) kept following the
movement of the passengers on Princes Street, as they passed
briskly to and fro--met, greeted, and bowed to each other--or
entered and left the shops, which are in that quarter, and, for a
town of the Britannic provinces, particularly fine. My mind being
busy upon other things, the course of my eye was the more random;
and it chanced that I followed, for some time, the advance of a
young gentleman with a red head and a white great-coat, for whom I
cared nothing at the moment, and of whom it is probable I shall be
gathered to my fathers without learning more. He seemed to have a
large acquaintance: his hat was for ever in his hand; and I
daresay I had already observed him exchanging compliments with half
a dozen, when he drew up at last before a young man and a young
lady whose tall persons and gallant carriage I thought I
recognised.
It was impossible at such a distance that I could be sure, but the
thought was sufficient, and I craned out of the embrasure to follow
them as long as possible. To think that such emotions, that such a
concussion of the blood, may have been inspired by a chance
resemblance, and that I may have stood and thrilled there for a
total stranger! This distant view, at least, whether of Flora or
of some one else, changed in a moment the course of my reflections.


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