Of a sudden I sat up.

How if I went now to Prestongrange, caught him (as I still easily might) before he slept, and made a full submission?
Who could blame me?
Not Stewart the writer; I had but to say that I was followed, despaired of getting clear, and so gave in.

Not Catriona: here, too, I had my answer ready; that I could not bear she should expose her father.

So, in a moment, I could lay all these troubles by, which were after all and truly none of mine; swim clear of the Appin murder; get forth out of handstroke of all the Stewarts and Campbells, all the whigs and tories, in the land; and live thenceforth to my own mind, and be able to enjoy and to improve my fortunes, and devote some hours of my youth to courting Catriona, which would be surely a more suitable occupation than to hide and run and be followed like a hunted thief, and begin over again the dreadful miseries of my escape with Alan.
At first I thought no shame of this capitulation; I was only amazed I had not thought upon the thing and done it earlier; and began to inquire into the causes of the change.

These I traced to my lowness of spirits, that back to my late recklessness, and that again to the common, old, public, disconsidered sin of self-indulgence.