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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Malcolm, by George MacDonald
+#27 in our series by George MacDonald
+
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+Title: Malcolm
+
+Author: George MacDonald
+
+Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7127]
+[This file was first posted on March 13, 2003]
+Last Updated: July 19, 2016
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MALCOLM ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Martin Robb
+
+
+
+
+MALCOLM
+by George MacDonald
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I: MISS HORN
+
+
+"Na, na; I hae nae feelin's,  thankfu' to say. I never kent ony
+guid come o' them. They're a terrible sicht i' the gait."
+
+"Naebody ever thoucht o' layin' 't to yer chairge, mem."
+
+"'Deed, I aye had eneuch adu to du the thing I had to du, no to
+say the thing 'at naebody wad du but mysel'. I hae had nae leisur'
+for feelin's an' that," insisted Miss Horn.
+
+But here a heavy step descending the stair just outside the
+room attracted her attention, and checking the flow of her speech
+perforce, with three ungainly strides she reached the landing.
+
+"Watty Witherspail! Watty!" she called after the footsteps down
+the stair.
+
+"Yes, mem," answered a gruff voice from below.
+
+"Watty, whan ye fess the bit boxie, jist pit a hemmer an' a puckle
+nails i' your pooch to men' the hen hoose door. The tane maun be
+atten't till as weel's the tither."
+
+"The bit boxie" was the coffin of her third cousin Griselda Campbell,
+whose body lay on the room on her left hand as she called down the
+stair. Into that on her right Miss Horn now re-entered, to rejoin
+Mrs Mellis, the wife of the principal draper in the town, who had
+called ostensibly to condole with her, but really to see the corpse.
+
+"Aih! she was taen yoong!" sighed the visitor, with long drawn
+tones and a shake of the head, implying that therein lay ground of
+complaint, at which poor mortals dared but hint.
+
+"No that yoong," returned Miss Horn. "She was upo' the edge o'
+aucht an' thirty."
+
+"Weel, she had a sair time o' 't."
+
+"No that sair, sae far as I see--an' wha sud ken better? She's
+had a bien doon sittin' (sheltered quarters), and sud hae had as
+lang's I was to the fore. Na, na; it was nowther sae young nor yet
+sae sair."
+
+"Aih! but she was a patient cratur wi' a' flesh," persisted Mrs
+Mellis, as if she would not willingly be foiled in the attempt to
+extort for the dead some syllable of acknowledgment from the lips
+of her late companion.
+
+"'Deed she was that!--a wheen ower patient wi' some. But that
+cam' o' haein mair hert nor brains. She had feelin's gien ye like--
+and to spare. But I never took ower ony o' the stock. It's a pity
+she hadna the jeedgment to match, for she never misdoobted onybody
+eneuch. But I wat it disna maitter noo, for she's gane whaur it 's
+less wantit. For ane 'at has the hairmlessness o' the doo 'n this
+ill wulled warl', there's a feck o' ten 'at has the wisdom o' the
+serpent. An' the serpents mak sair wark wi' the doos--lat alane
+them 'at flees into the verra mouws o' them."
+
+"Weel, ye're jist richt there," said Mrs Mellis. "An' as ye say,
+she was aye some easy to perswaud. I hae nae doubt she believed to
+the ver' last he wad come back and mairry her."
+
+"Come back and mairry her! Wha or what div ye mean? I jist tell ye
+Mistress Mellis--an' it 's weel ye're named--gien ye daur to
+hint at ae word o' sic clavers, it 's this side o' this door o' mine
+ye s' be less acquant wi'."
+
+As she spoke, the hawk eyes of Miss Horn glowed on each side of
+her hawk nose, which grew more and more hooked as she glared, while
+her neck went craning forward as if she were on the point of making
+a swoop on the offender. Mrs Mellis's voice trembled with something
+like fear as she replied:
+
+"Gude guide 's, Miss Horn! What hae I said to gar ye look at me
+sae by ordinar 's that?"
+
+"Said!" repeated Miss Horn, in a tone that revealed both annoyance
+with herself and contempt for her visitor. "There's no a claver in
+a' the countryside but ye maun fess 't hame aneth yer oxter, as
+gin 't were the prodigal afore he repentit. Ye s' get sma thanks for
+sic like here. An' her lyin' there as she'll lie till the jeedgment
+day, puir thing!"
+
+" sure I meant no offence, Miss Horn," said her visitor. "I
+thocht a' body kent 'at she was ill about him."
+
+"Aboot wha, i' the name o' the father o' lees?"
+
+"Ow, aboot that lang leggit doctor 'at set oat for the Ingies, an'
+dee'd afore he wan across the equautor. Only fouk said he was nae
+mair deid nor a halvert worm, an' wad be hame whan she was merried."
+
+"It's a' lees frae heid to fit, an' frae bert to skin."
+
+"Weel, it was plain to see she dwyned awa efter he gaed, an' never
+was hersel' again--ye dinna deny that?"
+
+"It's a' havers," persisted Miss Horn, but in accents considerably
+softened. "She cared na mair aboot the chield nor I did mysel'.
+She dwyned, I grant ye, an' he gaed awa, I grant ye; but the win'
+blaws an' the water rins, an the tane has little to du wi' the
+tither."
+
+"Weel, weel;  sorry I said onything to offen' ye, an' I canna
+say mair. Wi' yer leave, Miss Horn, I'll jist gang an' tak' a last
+leuk at her, puir thing!"
+
+"'Deed, ye s' du naething o' the kin'! I s' lat nobody glower at her
+'at wad gang an spairge sic havers about her, Mistress Mellis. To
+say 'at sic a doo as my Grizel, puir, saft hertit, winsome thing,
+wad hae lookit twice at ony sic a serpent as him! Na, na, mem! Gang
+yer wa's hame, an' come back straucht frae yer prayers the morn's
+mornin'. By that time she'll be quaiet in her coffin, an' I'll be
+quaiet i' my temper. Syne I'll lat ye see her--maybe.--I wiss
+I was weel rid o' the sicht o' her, for I canna bide it. Lord, I
+canna bide it."
+
+These last words were uttered in a murmured aside, inaudible to
+Mrs Mellis, to whom, however, they did not apply, but to the dead
+body. She rose notwithstanding in considerable displeasure, and with
+a formal farewell walked from the room, casting a curious glance
+as she left it in the direction of that where the body lay, and
+descended the stairs as slowly as if on every step she deliberated
+whether the next would bear her weight. Miss Horn, who had followed
+her to the head of the stair, watched her out of sight below the
+landing, when she turned and walked back once more into the parlour,
+but with a lingering look towards the opposite room, as if she saw
+through the closed door what lay white on the white bed.
+
+"It's a God's mercy I hae no feelin's," she said to herself. "To
+even (equal) my bonny Grizel to sic a lang kyte clung chiel as
+yon! Aih, puir Grizel! She's gane frae me like a knotless threid."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II: BARBARA CATANACH
+
+
+Miss Horn was interrupted by the sound of the latch of the street
+door, and sprung from her chair in anger.
+
+"Canna they lat her sleep for five meenutes?" she cried aloud,
+forgetting that there was no fear of rousing her any more.--"It'll
+be Jean come in frae the pump," she reflected, after a moment's
+pause; but, hearing no footstep along the passage to the kitchen,
+concluded--"It's no her, for she gangs aboot the hoose like the
+fore half o' a new shod cowt;" and went down the stair to see who
+might have thus presumed to enter unbidden.
+
+In the kitchen, the floor of which was as white as scrubbing could
+make it, and sprinkled with sea sand--under the gaily painted
+Dutch clock, which went on ticking as loud as ever, though just
+below the dead--sat a woman about sixty years of age, whose plump
+face to the first glance looked kindly, to the second, cunning,
+and to the third, evil. To the last look the plumpness appeared
+unhealthy, suggesting a doughy indentation to the finger, and its
+colour also was pasty. Her deep set, black bright eyes, glowing
+from under the darkest of eyebrows, which met over her nose, had
+something of a fascinating influence--so much of it that at a
+first interview one was not likely for a time to notice any other
+of her features. She rose as Miss Horn entered, buried a fat fist
+in a soft side, and stood silent.
+
+"Weel?" said Miss Horn interrogatively, and was silent also.
+
+"I thocht ye micht want a cast o' my callin'," said the woman.
+
+"Na, na; there's no a han' 'at s' lay finger upo' the bairn but
+mine ain," said Miss Horn. "I had it a' ower, my lee lane, afore the
+skreigh o' day. She's lyin' quaiet noo--verra quaiet--waitin'
+upo' Watty Witherspail. Whan he fesses hame her bit boxie, we s'
+hae her laid canny intill 't, an' hae dune wi' 't."
+
+"Weel, mem, for a leddy born, like yersel', I maun say, ye tak it
+unco composed!"
+
+" no awaur, Mistress Catanach, o' ony necessity laid upo' ye
+to say yer min' i' this hoose. It's no expeckit. But what for sud
+I no tak' it wi' composur'? We'll hae to tak' oor ain turn er lang,
+as composed as we hae the skiel o', and gang oot like a lang nibbit
+can'le--ay, an lea' jist sic a memory ahin' some o' 's, Bawby."
+
+"I kenna gien ye mean me, Miss Horn," said the woman; "but it 's no
+that muckle o' a memory I expec' to lea' ahin' me."
+
+"The less the better," muttered Miss Horn; but her unwelcome visitor
+went on:
+
+"Them 'at 's maist i' my debt kens least aboot it; and then mithers
+canna be said to hae muckle to be thankfu' for. It's God's trowth,
+I ken waur nor ever I did mem. A body in my trade canna help fa'in'
+amo' ill company whiles, for we're a' born in sin, an' brocht furth
+in ineequity, as the Buik says; in fac', it 's a' sin thegither: we
+come o' sin an' we gang for sin; but ye ken the likes o' me maunna
+clype (tell tales). A' the same, gien ye dinna tak the help o' my
+han', ye winna refuse me the sicht o' my een, puir thing!"
+
+"There's nane sall luik upon her deid 'at wasna a pleesur' till
+her livin'; an' ye ken weel eneuch, Bawby, she cudna thole (bear)
+the sicht o' you."
+
+"An' guid rizzon had she for that, gien a' 'at gangs throu' my
+heid er I fa' asleep i' the lang mirk nichts be a hair better nor
+ane o' the auld wives' fables 'at fowk says the holy buik maks sae
+licht o'."
+
+"What mean ye?" demanded Miss Horn, sternly and curtly.
+
+"I ken what I mean mysel', an' ane that's no content wi' that,
+bude (behaved) ill be a howdie (midwife). I wad fain hae gotten a
+fancy oot o' my heid that's been there this mony a lang day; but
+please yersel', mem, gien ye winna be neebourly."
+
+"Ye s' no gang near her--no to save ye frae a' the ill dreams
+that ever gethered aboot a sin stappit (stuffed) bowster!" cried
+Miss Horn, and drew down her long upper lip in a strong arch.
+
+"Ca cannie! ca cannie! (drive gently)," said Bawby. "Dinna anger
+me ower sair, for I am but mortal. Fowk tak a heap frae you, Miss
+Horn, 'at they'll tak frae nane ither, for your temper's weel kent,
+an' little made o'; but it 's an ill faured thing to anger the howdie
+--sae muckle lies upo' her; an'  no i' the tune to put up wi'
+muckle the nicht. I wonner at ye bein' sae oonneebourlike--at
+sic a time tu, wi' a corp i' the hoose!"
+
+"Gang awa--gang oot o't: it 's my hoose," said Miss Horn, in a low,
+hoarse voice, restrained from rising to tempest pitch only by the
+consciousness of what lay on the other side of the ceiling above
+her head. "I wad as sune lat a cat intill the deid chaumer to gang
+loupin' ower the corp, or may be waur, as I wad lat yersel' intill
+'t Bawby Catanach; an' there's till ye!"
+
+At this moment the opportune entrance of Jean afforded fitting
+occasion to her mistress for leaving the room without encountering
+the dilemma of either turning the woman out--a proceeding which
+the latter, from the way in which she set her short, stout figure
+square on the floor, appeared ready to resist--or of herself
+abandoning the field in discomfiture: she turned and marched from
+the kitchen with her head in the air, and the gait of one who had
+been insulted on her own premises.
+
+She was sitting in the parlour, still red faced and wrathful, when
+Jean entered, and, closing the door behind her, drew near to her
+mistress, bearing a narrative, commenced at the door, of all she
+had seen, heard, and done, while "oot an' aboot i' the toon." But
+Miss Horn interrupted her the moment she began to speak.
+
+"Is that wuman furth the hoose, Jean?" she asked, in the tone
+of one who waited her answer in the affirmative as a preliminary
+condition of all further conversation.
+
+"She's gane, mem," answered Jean--adding to herself in a wordless
+thought, " no sayin' whaur."
+
+"She's a wuman I wadna hae ye throng wi', Jean."
+
+"I ken no ill o' her, mem," returned Jean.
+
+"She's eneuch to corrup' a kirkyaird!" said her mistress, with more
+force than fitness.
+
+Jean, however, was on the shady side of fifty, more likely to have
+already yielded than to be liable to a first assault of corruption;
+and little did Miss Horn think how useless was her warning, or
+where Barbara Catanach was at that very moment. Trusting to Jean's
+cunning, as well she might; she was in the dead chamber, and
+standing over the dead. She had folded back the sheet--not from
+the face, but from the feet--and raised the night dress of fine
+linen in which the love of her cousin had robed the dead for the
+repose of the tomb.
+
+"It wad hae been tellin' her," she muttered, "to hae spoken Bawby
+fair!  no used to be fa'en foul o' that gait. I s' be even
+wi' her yet,  thinkin'--the auld speldin'! Losh! and Praise
+be thankit! there it 's! It's there!--a wee darker, but the same
+--jist whaur I could ha' laid the pint o' my finger upo' 't i' the
+mirk!--Noo lat the worms eat it," she concluded, as she folded
+down the linen of shroud and sheet--"an' no mortal ken o' 't but
+mysel' an' him 'at bude till hae seen 't, gien he was a hair better
+nor Glenkindie's man i' the auld ballant!"
+
+The instant she had rearranged the garments of the dead, she
+turned and made for the door with a softness of step that strangely
+contrasted with the ponderousness of her figure, and indicated great
+muscular strength, opened it with noiseless circumspection to the
+width of an inch, peeped out from the crack, and seeing the opposite
+door still shut, stepped out with a swift, noiseless swing of
+person and door simultaneously, closed the door behind her, stole
+down the stairs, and left the house. Not a board creaked, not a
+latch clicked as she went. She stepped into the street as sedately
+as if she had come from paying to the dead the last offices of
+her composite calling, the projected front of her person appearing
+itself aware of its dignity as the visible sign and symbol of a
+good conscience and kindly heart.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III: THE MAD LAIRD
+
+
+When Mistress Catanach arrived at the opening of a street which
+was just opposite her own door, and led steep toward the sea town,
+she stood, and shading her eyes with her hooded hand, although the
+sun was far behind her, looked out to sea. It was the forenoon of
+a day of early summer. The larks were many and loud in the skies
+above her--for, although she stood in a street, she was only a
+few yards from the green fields--but she could hardly have heard
+them, for their music was not for her. To the northward, whither
+her gaze--if gaze it could be called--was directed, all but
+cloudless blue heavens stretched over an all but shadowless blue
+sea; two bold, jagged promontories, one on each side of her, formed
+a wide bay; between that on the west and the sea town at her feet,
+lay a great curve of yellow sand, upon which the long breakers,
+born of last night's wind, were still roaring from the northeast,
+although the gale had now sunk to a breeze--cold and of doubtful
+influence. From the chimneys of the fishermen's houses below,
+ascended a yellowish smoke, which, against the blue of the sea,
+assumed a dull green colour as it drifted vanishing towards the
+southwest. But Mrs Catanach was looking neither at nor for anything:
+she had no fisherman husband, or any other relative at sea; she
+was but revolving something in her unwholesome mind, and this was
+her mode of concealing an operation which naturally would have been
+performed with down bent head and eyes on the ground.
+
+While she thus stood a strange figure drew near, approaching her
+with step almost as noiseless as that with which she had herself
+made her escape from Miss Horn's house. At a few yards' distance
+from her it stood, and gazed up at her countenance as intently as
+she seemed to be gazing on the sea. It was a man of dwarfish height
+and uncertain age, with a huge hump upon his back, features of great
+refinement, a long thin beard, and a forehead unnaturally large,
+over eyes which, although of a pale blue, mingled with a certain
+mottled milky gleam, had a pathetic, dog-like expression. Decently
+dressed in black, he stood with his hands in the pockets of his
+trowsers, gazing immovably in Mrs Catanach's face.
+
+Becoming suddenly aware of his presence, she glanced downward, gave
+a great start and a half scream, and exclaimed in no gentle tones:
+
+"Preserve 's! Whaur come ye frae?"
+
+It was neither that she did not know the man, nor that she meant
+any offence: her words were the mere embodiment of the annoyance
+of startled surprise; but their effect was peculiar.
+
+Without a single other motion he turned abruptly on one heel, gazed
+seaward with quick flushed cheeks and glowing eyes, but, apparently
+too polite to refuse an answer to the evidently unpleasant question,
+replied in low, almost sullen tones:
+
+"I dinna ken whaur I come frae. Ye ken 'at I dinna ken whaur I come
+frae. I dinna ken whaur ye come frae. I dinna ken whaur onybody
+comes frae."
+
+"Hoot, laird! nae offence!" returned Mrs Catanach. "It was yer ain
+wyte (blame). What gart ye stan' glowerin' at a body that gait,
+ohn telled (without telling) them 'at ye was there?"
+
+"I thocht ye was luikin' whaur ye cam frae," returned the man in
+tones apologetic and hesitating.
+
+"'Deed I fash wi' nae sic freits," said Mrs Catanach.
+
+"Sae lang's ye ken whaur ye're gaein' till," suggested the man
+
+"Toots! I fash as little wi' that either, and ken jist as muckle
+about the tane as the tither," she answered with a low oily guttural
+laugh of contemptuous pity.
+
+"I ken mair nor that mysel', but no muckle," said the man. "I dinna
+ken whaur I cam frae, and I dinna ken whaur  gaun till; but I
+ken 'at  gaun whaur I cam frae. That stan's to rizzon, ye see;
+but they telled me 'at ye kenned a' about whaur we a' cam frae."
+
+"Deil a bit o' 't!" persisted Mrs Catanach, in tones of repudiation.
+"What care I whaur I cam frae, sae lang's--"
+
+"Sae lang's what, gien ye please?" pleaded the man, with a childlike
+entreaty in his voice.
+
+"Weel--gien ye wull hae't--sae lang's I cam frae my mither,"
+said the woman, looking down on the inquirer with a vulgar laugh.
+
+The hunchback uttered a shriek of dismay, and turned and fled; and
+as he turned, long, thin, white hands flashed out of his pockets,
+pressed against his ears, and intertwined their fingers at the back
+of his neck. With a marvellous swiftness he shot down the steep
+descent towards the shore.
+
+"The deil's in't 'at I bude to anger him!" said the woman, and
+walked away, with a short laugh of small satisfaction.
+
+The style she had given the hunchback was no nickname. Stephen Stewart
+was laird of the small property and ancient house of Kirkbyres, of
+which his mother managed the affairs--hardly for her son, seeing
+that, beyond his clothes, and five pounds a year of pocket money,
+he derived no personal advantage from his possessions. He never
+went near his own house, for, from some unknown reason, plentifully
+aimed at in the dark by the neighbours, he had such a dislike to
+his mother that he could not bear to hear the name of mother, or
+even the slightest allusion to the relationship.
+
+Some said he was a fool; others a madman; some both; none, however,
+said he was a rogue; and all would have been willing to allow that
+whatever it might be that caused the difference between him and
+other men, throughout the disturbing element blew ever and anon
+the air of a sweet humanity.
+
+Along the shore, in the direction of the great rocky promontory
+that closed in the bay on the west, with his hands still clasped
+over his ears, as if the awful word were following him, he flew
+rather than fled. It was nearly low water, and the wet sand afforded
+an easy road to his flying feet. Betwixt sea and shore, a sail in
+the offing the sole other moving thing in the solitary landscape,
+like a hunted creature he sped, his footsteps melting and vanishing
+behind him in the half quicksand.
+
+Where the curve of the water line turned northward at the root of
+the promontory, six or eight fishing boats were drawn up on the
+beach in various stages of existence. One was little more than
+half built, the fresh wood shining against the background of dark
+rock. Another was newly tarred; its sides glistened with the rich
+shadowy brown, and filled the air with a comfortable odour. Another
+wore age long neglect on every plank and seam; half its props
+had sunk or decayed, and the huge hollow leaned low on one side,
+disclosing the squalid desolation of its lean ribbed and naked
+interior, producing all the phantasmic effect of a great swampy
+desert; old pools of water overgrown with a green scum, lay in
+the hollows between its rotting timbers, and the upper planks were
+baking and cracking in the sun. Near where they lay a steep path
+ascended the cliff, whence through grass and ploughed land, it led
+across the promontory to the fishing village of Scaurnose, which
+lay on the other side of it. There the mad laird, or Mad Humpy, as
+he was called by the baser sort, often received shelter, chiefly
+from the family of a certain Joseph Mair, one of the most respectable
+inhabitants of the place.
+
+But the way he now pursued lay close under the cliffs of the
+headland, and was rocky and difficult. He passed the boats, going
+between them and the cliffs, at a footpace, with his eyes on the
+ground, and not even a glance at the two men who were at work on
+the unfinished boat. One of them was his friend, Joseph Mair. They
+ceased their work for a moment to look after him.
+
+"That's the puir laird again," said Joseph, the instant he was
+beyond hearing. "Something's wrang wi' him. I wonder what's come
+ower him!"
+
+"I haena seen him for a while noo," returned the other. "They tell
+me 'at his mither made him ower to the deil afore he cam to the
+light; and sae, aye as his birthday comes roun', Sawtan gets the
+pooer ower him. Eh, but he's a fearsome sicht whan he's ta'en that
+gait!" continued the speaker. "I met him ance i' the gloamin',
+jist ower by the toon, wi' his een glowerin' like uily lamps, an'
+the slaver rinnin' doon his lang baird. I jist laup as gien I had
+seen the muckle Sawtan himsel'."
+
+"Ye nott na (needed not) hae dune that," was the reply. "He's jist
+as hairmless, e'en at the warst, as ony lamb. He's but a puir cratur
+wha's tribble's ower strang for him--that's a'. Sawtan has as
+little to du wi' him as wi' ony man I ken."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV: PHEMY MAIR
+
+
+With eyes that stared as if they and not her ears were the organs
+of hearing, this talk was heard by a child of about ten years of
+age, who sat in the bottom of the ruined boat, like a pearl in a
+decaying oyster shell, one hand arrested in the act of dabbling in
+a green pool, the other on its way to her lips with a mouthful of
+the seaweed called dulse. She was the daughter of Joseph Mair just
+mentioned--a fisherman who had been to sea in a man of war (in
+consequence of which his to-name or nickname was Blue Peter), where
+having been found capable, he was employed as carpenter's mate,
+and came to be very handy with his tools: having saved a little
+money by serving in another man's boat, he was now building one
+for himself.
+
+He was a dark complexioned, foreign looking man, with gold rings in
+his ears, which he said enabled him to look through the wind "ohn
+his een watered." Unlike most of his fellows, he was a sober and
+indeed thoughtful man, ready to listen to the voice of reason from
+any quarter; they were, in general, men of hardihood and courage,
+encountering as a mere matter of course such perilous weather as
+the fishers on a great part of our coasts would have declined to
+meet, and during the fishing season were diligent in their calling,
+and made a good deal of money; but when the weather was such that
+they could not go to sea, when their nets were in order, and nothing
+special requiring to be done, they would have bouts of hard drinking,
+and spend a great portion of what ought to have been their provision
+for the winter.
+
+Their women were in general coarse in manners and rude in speech;
+often of great strength and courage, and of strongly marked
+character. They were almost invariably the daughters of fishermen,
+for a wife taken from among the rural population would have been
+all but useless in regard of the peculiar duties required of her.
+If these were less dangerous than those of their husbands, they
+were quite as laborious, and less interesting. The most severe
+consisted in carrying the fish into the country for sale, in
+a huge creel or basket, which when full was sometimes more than a
+man could lift to place on the woman's back. With this burden, kept
+in its place by a band across her chest, she would walk as many as
+twenty miles, arriving at some inland town early in the forenoon,
+in time to dispose of her fish for the requirements of the day. I
+may add that, although her eldest child was probably born within a
+few weeks after her marriage, infidelity was almost unknown amongst
+them.
+
+In some respects, although in none of its good qualities, Mrs. Mair
+was an exception from her class. Her mother had been the daughter
+of a small farmer, and she had well to do relations in an inland
+parish; but how much these facts were concerned in the result it
+would be hard to say: certainly she was one of those elect whom
+Nature sends into the world for the softening and elevation of her
+other children. She was still slight and graceful, with a clear
+complexion, and the prettiest teeth possible; the former two at
+least of which advantages she must have lost long before, had it
+not been that, while her husband's prudence had rendered hard work
+less imperative, he had a singular care over her good looks; and
+that a rough, honest, elder sister of his lived with them, whom it
+would have been no kindness to keep from the hardest work, seeing
+it was only through such that she could have found a sufficiency
+of healthy interest in life. While Janet Mair carried the creel,
+Annie only assisted in making the nets, and in cleaning and drying
+the fish, of which they cured considerable quantities; these, with
+her household and maternal duties, afforded her ample occupation.
+Their children were well trained, and being of necessity, from the
+narrowness of their house accommodation, a great deal with their
+parents, heard enough to make them think after their faculty.
+
+The mad laird was, as I have said, a visitor at their house oftener
+than anywhere else. On such occasions he slept in a garret accessible
+by a ladder from the ground floor, which consisted only of a kitchen
+and a closet. Little Phemy Mair was therefore familiar with his
+appearance, his ways, and his speech; and she was a favourite with
+him, although hitherto his shyness had been sufficient to prevent
+any approach to intimacy with even a child of ten.
+
+When the poor fellow had got some little distance beyond the
+boats, he stopped and withdrew his hands from his ears: in rushed
+the sound of the sea, the louder that the caverns of his brain had
+been so long closed to its entrance. With a moan of dismay he once
+more pressed his palms against them, and thus deafened, shouted
+with a voice of agony into the noise of the rising tide: "I dinna
+ken whaur I come frae!" after which cry, wrung from the grief of
+human ignorance, he once more took to his heels, though with far
+less swiftness than before, and fled stumbling and scrambling over
+the rocks.
+
+Scarcely had he vanished from view of the boats, when Phemy scrambled
+out of her big mussell shell. Its upheaved side being toward the
+boat at which her father was at work, she escaped unperceived, and
+so ran along the base of the promontory, where the rough way was
+perhaps easier to the feet of a child content to take smaller steps
+and climb or descend by the help of more insignificant inequalities.
+She came within sight of the laird just as he turned into the mouth
+of a well known cave and vanished.
+
+Phemy was one of those rare and blessed natures which have endless
+courage because they have no distrust, and she ran straight into
+the cave after him, without even first stopping to look in.
+
+It was not a very interesting cave to look into. The strata of
+which it was composed, upheaved almost to the perpendicular, shaped
+an opening like the half of a Gothic arch divided vertically and
+leaning over a little to one side, which opening rose to the full
+height of the cave, and seemed to lay bare every corner of it to
+a single glance. In length it was only about four or five times
+its width. The floor was smooth and dry, consisting of hard rock.
+The walls and roof were jagged with projections and shadowed with
+recesses, but there was little to rouse any frightful fancies.
+
+When Phemy entered, the laird was nowhere to be seen. But she went
+straight to the back of the cave, to its farthest visible point.
+There she rounded a projection and began an ascent which only
+familiarity with rocky ways could have enabled such a child to
+accomplish. At the top she passed through another opening, and by
+a longer and more gently sloping descent reached the floor of a
+second cave, as level and nearly as smooth as a table. On her left
+hand, what light managed to creep through the tortuous entrance was
+caught and reflected in a dull glimmer from the undefined surface
+of a well of fresh water which lay in a sort of basin in the rock:
+on a bedded stone beside it sat the laird, with his head in his
+hands, his elbows on his knees, and his hump upheaved above his
+head, like Mount Sinai over the head of Christian in the Pilgrim's
+Progress.
+
+As his hands were still pressed on his ears, he heard nothing of
+Phemy's approach, and she stood for a while staring at him in the
+vague glimmer, apparently with no anxiety as to what was to come
+next.
+
+Weary at length--for the forlorn man continued movelessly sunk
+in his own thoughts, or what he had for such--the eyes of the
+child began to wander about the darkness, to which they had already
+got so far accustomed as to make the most of the scanty light.
+Presently she fancied she saw something glitter, away in the
+darkness--two things: they must be eyes!--the eyes of an otter
+or of a polecat, in which creatures the caves along the shore
+abounded. Seized with sudden fright, she ran to the laird and laid
+her hand on his shoulder, crying,
+
+"Leuk, laird, leuk!"
+
+He started to his feet and gazed bewildered at the child, rubbing
+his eyes once and again. She stood between the well and the entrance,
+so that all the light there was, gathered upon her pale face.
+
+"Whaur do ye come frae?" he cried.
+
+"I cam frae the auld boat," she answered.
+
+"What do ye want wi' me?"
+
+"Naething, sir; I only cam to see hoo ye was gettin' on. I wadna
+hae disturbit ye, sir, but I saw the twa een o' a wullcat, or sic
+like, glowerin' awa yonner i' the mirk, an' they fleyt me 'at I
+grippit ye."
+
+"Weel, weel; sit ye doon, bairnie," said the mad laird in a soothing
+voice; "the wullcat sanna touch ye. Ye're no fleyt at me, are ye?"
+
+"Na!" answered the child. "What for sud I be fleyt at you, sir?
+ Phemy Mair."
+
+"Eh, bairnie! it 's you, is't?" he returned in tones of satisfaction,
+for he had not hitherto recognised her. "Sit ye doon, sit ye doon,
+an' we'll see about it a'."
+
+Phemy obeyed, and seated herself on the nearest projection.
+
+The laird placed himself beside her, and once more buried his face,
+but not his ears, in his hands. Nothing entered them, however, but
+the sound of the rising tide, for Phemy sat by him in the faintly
+glimmering dusk, as without fear felt, so without word spoken.
+
+The evening crept on, and the night came down, but all the effect
+of the growing darkness was that the child drew gradually nearer
+to her uncouth companion, until at length her hand stole into his,
+her head sank upon his shoulder, his arm went round her to hold
+her safe, and thus she fell fast asleep. After a while, the laird
+gently roused her and took her home, on their way warning her,
+in strange yet to her comprehensible utterance, to say nothing of
+where she had found him, for if she exposed his place of refuge,
+wicked people would take him, and he should never see her again.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V: LADY FLORIMEL
+
+
+All the coast to the east of the little harbour was rock, bold and
+high, of a grey and brown hard stone, which after a mighty sweep,
+shot out northward, and closed in the bay on that side with a
+second great promontory. The long curved strip of sand on the west,
+reaching to the promontory of Scaurnose, was the only open portion
+of the coast for miles. Here the coasting vessel gliding past gained a
+pleasant peep of open fields, belts of wood and farm houses, with
+now and then a glimpse of a great house amidst its trees. In the
+distance one or two bare solitary hills, imposing in aspect only
+from their desolation, for their form gave no effect to their
+altitude, rose to the height of over a thousand feet.
+
+On this comparatively level part of the shore, parallel with its
+line, and at some distance beyond the usual high water mark, the
+waves of ten thousand northern storms had cast up a long dune or
+bank of sand, terminating towards the west within a few yards of
+a huge solitary rock of the ugly kind called conglomerate, which
+must have been separated from the roots of the promontory by the
+rush of waters at unusually high tides, for in winter they still
+sometimes rounded the rock, and running down behind the dune,
+turned it into a long island. The sand on the inland side of the
+dune, covered with short sweet grass, browsed on by sheep, and with
+the largest and reddest of daisies, was thus occasionally swept by
+wild salt waves, and at times, when the northern wind blew straight
+as an arrow and keen as a sword from the regions of endless snow,
+lay under a sheet of gleaming ice.
+
+The sun had been up for some time in a cloudless sky. The wind had
+changed to the south, and wafted soft country odours to the shore,
+in place of sweeping to inland farms the scents of seaweed and broken
+salt waters, mingled with a suspicion of icebergs. From what was
+called the Seaton, or seatown, of Portlossie, a crowd of cottages
+occupied entirely by fisherfolk, a solitary figure was walking
+westward along this grass at the back of the dune, singing. On his
+left hand the ground rose to the high road; on his right was the
+dune, interlaced and bound together by the long clasping roots of
+the coarse bent, without which its sands would have been but the
+sport of every wind that blew. It shut out from him all sight of
+the sea, but the moan and rush of the rising tide sounded close
+behind it. At his back rose the town of Portlossie, high above the
+harbour and the Seaton, with its houses of grey and brown stone,
+roofed with blue slates and red tiles. It was no highland town
+--scarce one within it could speak the highland tongue, yet down
+from its high streets on the fitful air of the morning now floated
+intermittently the sound of bagpipes--borne winding from street
+to street, and loud blown to wake the sleeping inhabitants and let
+them know that it was now six of the clock.
+
+He was a youth of about twenty, with a long, swinging, heavy footed
+stride, which took in the ground rapidly--a movement unlike that
+of the other men of the place, who always walked slowly, and never
+but on dire compulsion ran. He was rather tall, and large limbed.
+His dress was like that of a fisherman, consisting of blue serge
+trowsers, a shirt striped blue and white, and a Guernsey frock,
+which he carried flung across his shoulder. On his head he wore a
+round blue bonnet, with a tuft of scarlet in the centre.
+
+His face was more than handsome--with large features, not finely
+cut, and a look of mingled nobility and ingenuousness--the latter
+amounting to simplicity, or even innocence; while the clear outlook
+from his full and well opened hazel eyes indicated both courage
+and promptitude. His dark brown hair came in large curling masses
+from under his bonnet. It was such a form and face as would have
+drawn every eye in a crowded thoroughfare.
+
+About the middle of the long sandhill, a sort of wide embrasure was
+cut in its top, in which stood an old fashioned brass swivel gun:
+when the lad reached the place, he sprang up the sloping side of
+the dune, seated himself on the gun, drew from his trowsers a large
+silver watch, regarded it steadily for a few minutes, replaced it,
+and took from his pocket a flint and steel, wherewith he kindled
+a bit of touch paper, which, rising, he applied to the vent of the
+swivel. Followed a great roar.
+
+It echoes had nearly died away, when a startled little cry reached
+his keen ear, and looking along the shore to discover whence it
+came, he spied a woman on a low rock that ran a little way out into
+the water. She had half risen from a sitting posture, and apparently
+her cry was the result of the discovery that the rising tide
+had overreached and surrounded her. There was no danger whatever,
+but the girl might well shrink from plunging into the clear beryl
+depth in which swayed the seaweed clothing the slippery slopes of
+the rock. He rushed from the sandhill, crying, as he approached
+her, "Dinna be in a hurry, mem; bide till I come to ye," and running
+straight into the water struggled through the deepening tide, the
+distance being short and the depth almost too shallow for swimming.
+In a moment he was by her side, scarcely saw the bare feet she had
+been bathing in the water, heeded as little the motion of the hand
+which waved him back, caught her in his arms like a baby, and had
+her safe on the shore ere she could utter a word; nor did he stop
+until he had carried her to the slope of the sandhill, where he
+set her gently down, and without a suspicion of the liberty he was
+taking, and filled only with a passion of service, was proceeding
+to dry her feet with the frock which he had dropped there as he
+ran to her assistance.
+
+"Let me alone, pray," cried the girl with a half amused indignation,
+drawing back her feet and throwing down a book she carried that she
+might the better hide them with her skirt. But although she shrank
+from his devotion, she could neither mistake it nor help being pleased
+with his kindness. Probably she had never before been immediately
+indebted to such an ill clad individual of the human race, but even
+in such a costume she could not fail to see he was a fine fellow.
+Nor was the impression disturbed when he opened his mouth and spoke
+in the broad dialect of the country, for she had no associations
+to cause her to misinterpret its homeliness as vulgarity.
+
+"Whaur's yer stockin's, mem?" he said.
+
+"You gave me no time to bring them away, you caught me up so--
+rudely," answered the girl half querulously, but in such lovely
+speech as had never before greeted his Scotish ears.
+
+Before the words were well beyond her lips he was already on his way
+back to the rock, running, as he walked, with great, heavy footed
+strides. The abandoned shoes and stockings were in imminent danger
+of being floated off by the rising water, but he dashed in, swam a
+few strokes, caught them up, waded back to the shore, and, leaving
+a wet track all the way behind him but carrying the rescued clothing
+at arm's length before him, rejoined their owner. Spreading his
+frock out before her, he laid the shoes and stockings upon it,
+and, observing that she continued to keep her feet hidden under
+the skirts of her dress, turned his back and stood.
+
+"Why don't you go away?" said the girl, venturing one set of toes
+from under their tent, but hesitating to proceed further in the
+business.
+
+Without word or turn of head he walked away.
+
+Either flattered by his absolute obedience, and persuaded that he
+was a true squire, or unwilling to forego what amusement she might
+gain from him, she drew in her half issuing foot, and, certainly
+urged in part by an inherent disposition to tease, spoke again.
+
+"You're not going away without thanking me?" she said.
+
+"What for, mem?" he returned simply, standing stock still again
+with his back towards her.
+
+"You needn't stand so. You don't think I would go on dressing while
+you remained in sight?"
+
+"I was as guid's awa', mem," he said, and turning a glowing face,
+looked at her for a moment, then cast his eyes on the ground.
+
+"Tell me what you mean by not thanking me," she insisted.
+
+"They wad be dull thanks, mem, that war thankit afore I kenned what
+for."
+
+"For allowing you to carry me ashore, of course."
+
+"Be thankit, mem, wi' a' my hert. Will I gang doon o' my knees?"
+
+"No. Why should you go on your knees?"
+
+"'Cause ye're 'maist ower bonny to luik at stan'in', mem, an'
+feared for angerin' ye."
+
+"Don't say ma'am to me."
+
+"What am I to say, than, mem?--I ask yer pardon, mem."
+
+"Say my lady. That's how people speak to me."
+
+"I thocht ye bude (behoved) to be somebody by ordinar', my leddy!
+That'll be hoo ye're so terrible bonny," he returned, with some
+tremulousness in his tone. "But ye maun put on yer hose, my leddy,
+or ye'll get yer feet cauld, and that's no guid for the likes o'
+you."
+
+The form of address she prescribed, conveyed to him no definite
+idea of rank. It but added intensity to the notion of her being a
+lady, as distinguished from one of the women of his own condition
+in life.
+
+"And pray what is to become of you," she returned, "with your
+clothes as wet as water can make them?"
+
+"The saut water kens me ower weel to do me ony ill," returned the
+lad. "I gang weet to the skin mony a day frae mornin' till nicht,
+and mony a nicht frae nicht till mornin'--at the heerin' fishin',
+ye ken, my leddy."
+
+One might well be inclined to ask what could have tempted her to
+talk in such a familiar way to a creature like him--human indeed,
+but separated from her by a gulf more impassable far than that
+which divided her from the thrones, principalities, and powers of
+the upper regions? And how is the fact to be accounted for, that here
+she put out a dainty foot, and reaching for one of her stockings,
+began to draw it gently over the said foot? Either her sense of his
+inferiority was such that she regarded his presence no more than
+that of a dog, or, possibly, she was tempted to put his behaviour
+to the test. He, on his part, stood quietly regarding the operation,
+either that, with the instinct of an inborn refinement, he was
+aware he ought not to manifest more shamefacedness than the lady
+herself, or that he was hardly more accustomed to the sight of
+gleaming fish than the bare feet of maidens.
+
+" thinkin', my leddy," he went on, in absolute simplicity, "that
+sma' fut o' yer ain has danced mony a braw dance on mony a braw
+flure."
+
+"How old do you take me for then?" she rejoined, and went on drawing
+the garment over her foot by the shortest possible stages.
+
+"Ye'll no be muckle ower twenty," he said.
+
+" only sixteen," she returned, laughing merrily.
+
+"What will ye be or ye behaud!" he exclaimed, after a brief pause
+of astonishment.
+
+"Do you ever dance in this part of the country?" she asked, heedless
+of his surprise.
+
+"No that muckle, at least amo' the fisherfowks, excep' it be at a
+weddin'. I was at ane last nicht."
+
+"And did you dance?"
+
+"'Deed did I, my leddy. I danced the maist o' the lasses clean aff
+o' their legs."
+
+"What made you so cruel?"
+
+"Weel, ye see, mem,--I mean my leddy,--fowk said I was ill
+aboot the bride; an' sae I bude to dance 't oot o' their heids."
+
+"And how much truth was there in what they said?" she asked, with
+a sly glance up in the handsome, now glowing face.
+
+"Gien there was ony, there was unco little," he replied. "The
+chield's walcome till her for me. But she was the bonniest lassie
+we had.--It was what we ca' a penny weddin'," he went on, as if
+willing to change the side of the subject.
+
+"And what's a penny wedding?"
+
+"It's a' kin' o' a custom amo' the fishers. There's some gey puir
+fowk amon' 's, ye see, an' when a twa o' them merries, the lave o'
+'s wants to gie them a bit o' a start like. Sae we a' gang to the
+weddin' an' eats an' drinks plenty, an' pays for a' 'at we hae;
+and they mak' a guid profit out o' 't, for the things doesna cost
+them nearhan' sae muckle as we pay. So they hae a guid han'fu' ower
+for the plenishin'."
+
+"And what do they give you to eat and drink?" asked the girl, making
+talk.
+
+"Ow, skate an' mustard to eat, an' whusky to drink," answered the
+lad, laughing. "But it 's mair for the fun. I dinna care muckle
+about whusky an' that kin' o' thing mysel'. It's the fiddles an
+the dancin' 'at I like."
+
+"You have music, then?"
+
+"Ay; jist the fiddles an' the pipes."
+
+"The bagpipes, do you mean?"
+
+"Ay; my gran'father plays them."
+
+"But you're not in the Highlands here: how come you to have bagpipes?"
+
+"It's a stray bag, an' no more. But the fowk here likes the cry
+o' 't well eneuch, an' hae 't to wauk them ilka mornin'. Yon was
+my gran'father ye heard afore I fired the gun. Yon was his pipes
+waukin' them, honest fowk."
+
+"And what made you fire the gun in that reckless way? Don't you
+know it is very dangerous?"
+
+"Dangerous mem--my leddy, I mean! There was naething intill 't
+but a pennyworth o' blastin' pooder. It wadna blaw the froth aff
+o' the tap o' a jaw (billow)."
+
+"It nearly blew me out of my small wits, though."
+
+" verra sorry it frichtit ye. But, gien I had seen ye, I bude
+to fire the gun."
+
+"I don't understand you quite; but I suppose you mean it was your
+business to fire the gun."
+
+"Jist that, my leddy."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"'Cause it 's been decreet i' the toon cooncil that at sax o' the
+clock ilka mornin' that gun's to be fired--at least sae lang's
+my lord, the marquis, is at Portlossie Hoose. Ye see it 's a royal
+brugh, this, an' it costs but aboot a penny, an' it 's gran' like
+to hae a sma' cannon to fire. An' gien I was to neglec' it, my
+gran'father wad gang on skirlin'--what's the English for skirlin',
+my leddy--skirlin' o' the pipes?"
+
+"I don't know. But from the sound of the word I should suppose it
+stands for screaming."
+
+"Aye, that's it; only screamin's no sae guid as skirlin'.
+My gran'father's an auld man, as I was gaein' on to say, an' has
+hardly breath eneuch to fill the bag; but he wad be efter dirkin'
+onybody 'at said sic a thing, and till he heard that gun he wad
+gang on blawin' though he sud burst himsel.' There's naebody kens
+the smeddum in an auld hielan' man!"
+
+By the time the conversation had reached this point, the lady had
+got her shoes on, had taken up her book from the sand, and was now
+sitting with it in her lap. No sound reached them but that of the
+tide, for the scream of the bagpipes had ceased the moment the
+swivel was fired. The sun was growing hot, and the sea, although so
+far in the cold north, was gorgeous in purple and green, suffused
+as with the overpowering pomp of a peacock's plumage in the sun.
+Away to the left the solid promontory trembled against the horizon,
+as if ready to dissolve and vanish between the bright air and the
+lucid sea that fringed its base with white. The glow of a young
+summer morning pervaded earth and sea and sky, and swelled the
+heart of the youth as he stood in unconscious bewilderment before
+the self possession of the girl. She was younger than he, and knew
+far less that was worth knowing, yet had a world of advantage over
+him--not merely from the effect of her presence on one who had
+never seen anything half so beautiful, but from a certain readiness
+of surface thought, combined with the sweet polish of her speech,
+and an assurance of superiority which appeared to them both to lift
+her, like one of the old immortals, far above the level of the man
+whom she favoured with her passing converse. What in her words,
+as here presented only to the eye, may seem brusqueness or even
+forwardness, was so tempered, so toned, so fashioned by the naivete
+with which she spoke, that it sounded in his ears as the utterance
+of absolute condescension. As to her personal appearance, the lad
+might well have taken her for twenty, for she looked more of a
+woman than, tall and strongly built as he was, he looked of a man.
+She was rather tall, rather slender, finely formed, with small hands
+and feet, and full throat. Her hair was of a dark brown; her eyes
+of such a blue that no one could have suggested grey; her complexion
+fair--a little freckled, which gave it the warmest tint it had;
+her nose nearly straight, her mouth rather large but well formed;
+and her forehead, as much of it as was to be seen under a garden
+hat, rose with promise above a pair of dark and finely pencilled
+eyebrows.
+
+The description I have here given may be regarded as occupying the
+space of a brief silence, during which the lad stood motionless,
+like one awaiting further command.
+
+"Why don't you go?" said the lady. "I want to read my book."
+
+He gave a great sigh, as if waking from a pleasant dream, took
+off his bonnet with a clumsy movement which yet had in it a grace
+worthy of a Stuart court, and descending the dune walked away along
+the sands towards the sea town.
+
+When he had gone about a couple of hundred yards, he looked back
+involuntarily. The lady had vanished. He concluded that she had
+crossed to the other side of the dune; but when he had gone so far
+on his way to the village as to clear the eastern end of the sandhill,
+and there turned and looked up its southern slope, she was still
+nowhere to be seen. The old highland stories of his grandfather
+came crowding to mind, and, altogether human as she had appeared,
+he almost doubted whether the sea, from which he had thought he
+rescued her, were not her native element. The book, however, not
+to mention the shoes and stockings, was against the supposition.
+Anyhow, he had seen a vision of some order or other, as certainly
+as if an angel from heaven had appeared to him, for the waters of
+his mind had been troubled with a new sense of grace and beauty,
+giving an altogether fresh glory to existence.
+
+Of course no one would dream of falling in love with an unearthly
+creature, even an angel; at least, something homely must mingle
+with the glory ere that become possible; and as to this girl, the
+youth could scarcely have regarded her with a greater sense of
+far offness had he known her for the daughter of a king of the sea
+--one whose very element was essentially death to him as life to
+her. Still he walked home as if the heavy boots he wore were wings
+at his heels, like those of the little Eurus or Boreas that stood
+blowing his trumpet for ever in the round open temple which from
+the top of a grassy hill in the park overlooked the Seaton.
+
+"Sic een!" he kept saying to himself; "an' sic sma' white han's!
+an' sic a bonny flit! Eh hoo she wad glitter throu' the water in
+a bag net! Faith! gien she war to sing 'come doon' to me, I wad
+gang. Wad that be to lowse baith sowl an' body, I wonner? I'll see
+what Maister Graham says to that. It's a fine question to put till
+'im: 'Gien a body was to gang wi' a mermaid, wha they say has nae
+sowl to be saved, wad that be the loss o' his sowl, as weel's o'
+the bodily life o' 'im?"'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI: DUNCAN MACPHAIL
+
+
+The sea town of Portlossie was as irregular a gathering of small
+cottages as could be found on the surface of the globe. They faced
+every way, turned their backs and gables every way--only of the
+roofs could you predict the position; were divided from each other
+by every sort of small, irregular space and passage, and looked
+like a national assembly debating a constitution. Close behind the
+Seaton, as it was called, ran a highway, climbing far above the
+chimneys of the village to the level of the town above. Behind this
+road, and separated from it by a high wall of stone, lay a succession
+of heights and hollows covered with grass. In front of the cottages
+lay sand and sea. The place was cleaner than most fishing villages,
+but so closely built, so thickly inhabited, and so pervaded with
+"a very ancient and fishlike smell," that but for the besom of the
+salt north wind it must have been unhealthy. Eastward the houses
+could extend no further for the harbour, and westward no further for
+a small river that crossed the sands to find the sea--discursively
+and merrily at low water, but with sullen, submissive mingling when
+banked back by the tide.
+
+Avoiding the many nets extended long and wide on the grassy sands,
+the youth walked through the tide swollen mouth of the river, and
+passed along the front of the village until he arrived at a house,
+the small window in the seaward gable of which was filled with a
+curious collection of things for sale--dusty looking sweets in
+a glass bottle; gingerbread cakes in the shape of large hearts,
+thickly studded with sugar plums of rainbow colours, invitingly
+poisonous; strings of tin covers for tobacco pipes, overlapping each
+other like fish scales; toys, and tapes, and needles, and twenty
+other kinds of things, all huddled together.
+
+Turning the corner of this house, he went down the narrow passage
+between it and the next, and in at its open door. But the moment
+it was entered it lost all appearance of a shop, and the room with
+the tempting window showed itself only as a poor kitchen with an
+earthen floor.
+
+"Weel, hoo did the pipes behave themsels the day, daddy?" said the
+youth as he strode in.
+
+"Och, she'll pe peing a coot poy today," returned the tremulous
+voice of a grey headed old man, who was leaning over a small peat
+fire on the hearth, sifting oatmeal through the fingers of his left
+hand into a pot, while he stirred the boiling mess with a short
+stick held in his right.
+
+It had grown to be understood between them that the pulmonary
+conditions of the old piper should be attributed not to his internal,
+but his external lungs--namely, the bag of his pipes. Both sets
+had of late years manifested strong symptoms of decay, and decided
+measures had had to be again and again resorted to in the case of
+the latter to put off its evil day, and keep within it the breath
+of its musical existence. The youth's question, then, as to
+the behaviour of the pipes, was in reality an inquiry after the
+condition of his grandfather's lungs, which, for their part, grew
+yearly more and more asthmatic: notwithstanding which Duncan MacPhail
+would not hear of resigning the dignity of town piper.
+
+"That's fine, daddy," returned the youth. "Wull I mak oot the
+parritch?  thinkin ye've had eneuch o' hingin' ower the fire
+this het mornin'."
+
+"No, sir," answered Duncan. "She'll pe perfectly able to make ta
+parritch herself, my poy Malcolm. Ta tay will tawn when her poy
+must make his own parritch, an' she'll be wantin' no more parritch,
+but haf to trink ta rainwater, and no trop of ta uisgebeatha to
+put into it, my poy Malcolm."
+
+His grandson was quite accustomed to the old man's heathenish
+mode of regarding his immediate existence after death as a long
+confinement in the grave, and generally had a word or two ready
+wherewith to combat the frightful notion; but, as he spoke, Duncan
+lifted the pot from the fire, and set it on its three legs on the
+deal table in the middle of the room, adding:
+
+"Tere, my man--tere's ta parritch! And was it ta putter, or ta
+traicle, or ta pottle o' peer, she would be havin' for kitchie tis
+fine mornin'?"
+
+This point settled, the two sat down to eat their breakfast; and
+no one would have discovered, from the manner in which the old
+man helped himself, nor yet from the look of his eyes, that he was
+stone blind. It came neither of old age nor disease--he had been
+born blind. His eyes, although large and wide, looked like those
+of a sleep walker--open with shut sense; the shine in them was
+all reflected light--glitter, no glow; and their colour was so
+pale that they suggested some horrible sight as having driven from
+them hue and vision together.
+
+"Haf you eated enough, my son?" he said, when he heard Malcolm lay
+down his spoon.
+
+"Ay, plenty, thank ye, daddy, and they were richt weel made,"
+replied the lad, whose mode of speech was entirely different from
+his grandfather's: the latter had learned English as a foreign
+language, but could not speak Scotch, his mother tongue being
+Gaelic.
+
+As they rose from the table, a small girl, with hair wildly
+suggestive of insurrection and conflagration, entered, and said,
+in a loud screetch--"Maister MacPhail, my mither wants a pot o'
+bleckin', an' ye're to be sure an' gie her't gweed, she says."
+
+"Fery coot, my chilt, Jeannie; but young Malcolm and old Tuncan
+hasn't made teir prayers yet, and you know fery well tat she won't
+sell pefore she's made her prayers. Tell your mother tat she'll pe
+bringin' ta blackin' when she comes to look to ta lamp."
+
+The child ran off without response. Malcolm lifted the pot from
+the table and set it on the hearth; put the plates together and the
+spoons, and set them on a chair, for there was no dresser; tilted
+the table, and wiped it hearthward--then from a shelf took down
+and laid upon it a bible, before which he seated himself with an air
+of reverence. The old man sat down on a low chair by the chimney
+corner, took off his bonnet, closed his eyes and murmured some
+almost inaudible words; then repeated in Gaelic the first line of
+the hundred and third psalm--
+
+O m' anam, beannuich thus' a nis
+
+--and raised a tune of marvellous wail. Arrived at the end of the
+line, he repeated the process with the next, and so went on, giving
+every line first in the voice of speech and then in the voice
+of song, through three stanzas of eight lines each. And no less
+strange was the singing than the tune--wild and wailful as the
+wind of his native desolations, or as the sound of his own pipes
+borne thereon; and apparently all but lawless, for the multitude
+of so called grace notes, hovering and fluttering endlessly around
+the centre tone like the comments on a text, rendered it nearly
+impossible to unravel from them the air even of a known tune.
+It had in its kind the same liquid uncertainty of confluent sound
+which had hitherto rendered it impossible for Malcolm to learn more
+than a few of the common phrases of his grandfather's mother tongue.
+
+The psalm over, during which the sightless eyeballs of the singer
+had been turned up towards the rafters of the cottage--a sign
+surely that the germ of light, "the sunny seed," as Henry Vaughan
+calls it, must be in him, else why should he lift his eyes when
+he thought upward?--Malcolm read a chapter of the Bible, plainly
+the next in an ordered succession, for it could never have been
+chosen or culled; after which they kneeled together, and the old
+man poured out a prayer, beginning in a low, scarcely audible voice,
+which rose at length to a loud, modulated chant. Not a sentence,
+hardly a phrase, of the utterance, did his grandson lay hold
+of; but there were a few inhabitants of the place who could have
+interpreted it, and it was commonly believed that one part of his
+devotions was invariably a prolonged petition for vengeance on
+Campbell of Glenlyon, the main instrument in the massacre of Glenco.
+
+He could have prayed in English, and then his grandson might have
+joined in his petitions, but the thought of such a thing would
+never have presented itself to him. Nay, although, understanding
+both languages, he used that which was unintelligible to the lad,
+he yet regarded himself as the party who had the right to resent
+the consequent schism. Such a conversation as now followed was no
+new thing after prayers.
+
+"I could fery well wish, Malcolm, my son," said the old man, "tat
+you would be learnin' to speak your own lancuach. It is all fery
+well for ta Sassenach (Saxon, i.e., non-Celtic) podies to read ta
+Piple in English, for it will be pleasing ta Maker not to make tem
+cawpable of ta Gaelic, no more tan monkeys; but for all tat it 's
+not ta vord of God. Ta Gaelic is ta lancuach of ta carden of Aiden,
+and no doubt but it pe ta lancuach in which ta Shepherd calls his
+sheep on ta everlastin' hills. You see, Malcolm, it must be so,
+for how can a mortal man speak to his God in anything put Gaelic?
+When Mr Craham--no, not Mr Craham, ta coot man; it was ta new
+Minister--he speak an' say to her: 'Mr MacPhail, you ought to
+make your prayers in Enclish,' I was fery wrathful, and I answered
+and said: 'Mr Downey, do you tare to suppose tat God doesn't prefer ta
+Gaelic to ta Sassenach tongue!'--'Mr MacPhail,' says he, 'it'll
+pe for your poy I mean it How's ta lad to learn ta way of salvation
+if you speak to your God in his presence in a strange tongue? So I
+was opedient to his vord, and ta next efening I tid kneel town in
+Sassenach and I tid make begin. But, ochone! she wouldn't go; her
+tongue would be cleafing to ta roof of her mouth; ta claymore would
+be sticking rusty in ta scappard; for her heart she was ashamed to
+speak to ta Hielan'man's Maker in ta Sassenach tongue. You must pe
+learning ta Gaelic, or you'll not pe peing worthy to pe her nain
+son, Malcolm."
+
+"But daddy, wha's to learn me?" asked his grandson, gayly.
+
+"Learn you, Malcolm! Ta Gaelic is ta lancuach of Nature, and wants
+no learning. I nefer did pe learning it, yat I nefer haf to say to
+myself 'What is it she would be saying?' when I speak ta Gaelic;
+put she always has to set ta tead men--that is ta vords--on
+their feet, and put tem in pattle array, when she would pe speaking
+ta dull mechanic English. When she opens her mouth to it, ta Gaelic
+comes like a spring of pure water, Malcolm. Ta plenty of it must
+run out. Try it now, Malcolm. Shust oppen your mouth in ta Gaelic
+shape, and see if ta Gaelic will not pe falling from it."
+
+Seized with a merry fit, Malcolm did open his mouth in the Gaelic
+shape, and sent from it a strange gabble, imitative of the most
+frequently recurring sounds of his grandfather's speech.
+
+"Hoo will that du, daddy?" he asked, after jabbering gibberish for
+the space of a minute.
+
+"It will not be paad for a peginning, Malcolm. She cannot say
+it shust pe vorts, or tat tere pe much of ta sense in it; but it
+pe fery like what ta pabes will say pefore tey pekin to speak it
+properly. So it 's all fery well, and if you will only pe putting
+your mouth in ta Gaelic shape often enough, ta sounds will soon
+pe taking ta shape of it, and ta vorts will be coming trough ta
+mists, and pefore you know, you'll pe peing a creat credit to your
+cranfather, my boy, Malcolm."
+
+A silence followed, for Malcolm's attempt had not had the result
+he anticipated: he had thought only to make his grandfather laugh.
+Presently the old man resumed, in the kindest voice:
+
+"And tere's another thing, Malcolm, tat's much wanting to you: you'll
+never pe a man--not to speak of a pard like your cranfather--
+if you'll not pe learning to play on ta bagpipes."
+
+Malcolm, who had been leaning against the chimney lug while his
+grandfather spoke, moved gently round behind his chair, reached
+out for the pipes where they lay in a corner at the old man's side,
+and catching them up softly, put the mouthpiece to his lips. With
+a few vigorous blasts he filled the bag, and out burst the double
+droning bass, while the youth's fingers, clutching the chanter
+as by the throat, at once compelled its screeches into shape far
+better, at least, than his lips had been able to give to the crude
+material of Gaelic. He played the only reel he knew, but that with
+vigour and effect.
+
+At the first sound of its notes the old man sprung to his feet and
+began capering to the reel--partly in delight with the music, but
+far more in delight with the musician, while, ever and anon, with
+feeble yell, he uttered the unspellable Hoogh of the Highlander, and
+jumped, as he thought, high in the air, though his failing limbs,
+alas! lifted his feet scarce an inch from the floor.
+
+"Aigh! aigh!" he sighed at length, yielding the contest between
+his legs and the lungs of the lad--"aigh! aigh! she'll die happy!
+she'll die happy! Hear till her poy, how he makes ta pipes speak
+ta true Gaelic! Ta pest o' Gaelic, tat! Old Tuncan's pipes 'll not
+know how to be talking Sassenach. See to it! see to it! He had put
+to blow in at ta one end, and out came ta reel at the other. Hoogh!
+hoogh! Play us ta Righil Thulachan, Malcolm, my chief!"
+
+"I kenna reel, strathspey, nor lilt, but jist that burd alane,
+daddy."
+
+"Give tem to me, my poy!" cried the old piper, reaching out a hand
+as eager to clutch the uncouth instrument as the miser's to finger
+his gold; "hear well to me as I play, and you'll soon be able to
+play pibroch or coronach with the best piper between Cape Wrath
+and ta Mull o' Cantyre."
+
+He played tune after tune until his breath failed him, and an exhausted
+grunt of the drone--in the middle of a coronach, followed by an
+abrupt pause, revealed the emptiness of both lungs and bag. Then
+first he remembered his object, forgotten the moment he had filled
+his bag.
+
+"Now, Malcolm," he said, offering the pipes to his grandson; "you
+play tat after."
+
+He had himself of course, learned all by the ear, but could hardly
+have been serious in requesting Malcolm to follow him through such
+a succession of tortuous mazes.
+
+"I haena a memory up to that, daddy; but I s' get a hand o' Mr
+Graham's flute music, and maybe that'll help me a bit.--Wadna ye
+be takin' hame Meg Partan's blackin' 'at ye promised her?"
+
+"Surely, my son. She should always be keeping her promises." He
+rose, and getting a small stone bottle and his stick from the corner
+between the projecting inglecheek and the window, left the house,
+to walk with unerring steps through the labyrinth of the village,
+threading his way from passage to passage, and avoiding pools and
+projecting stones, not to say houses, and human beings. His eyes,
+or indeed perhaps rather his whole face, appeared to possess an
+ethereal sense as of touch, for, without the slightest contact in
+the ordinary sense of the word, he was aware of the neighbourhood
+of material objects, as if through the pulsations of some medium
+to others imperceptible. He could, with perfect accuracy, tell the
+height of any wall or fence within a few feet of him; could perceive
+at once whether it was high or low or half tide, and that merely
+by going out in front of the houses and turning his face with its
+sightless eyeballs towards the sea; knew whether a woman who spoke
+to him had a child in her arms or not; and, indeed, was believed
+to know sooner than ordinary mortals that one was about to become
+a mother.
+
+He was a strange figure to look upon in that lowland village,
+for he invariably wore the highland dress: in truth, he had never
+had a pair of trowsers on his legs, and was far from pleased that
+his grandson clothed himself in such contemptible garments. But,
+contrasted with the showy style of his costume, there was something
+most pathetic in the blended pallor of hue into which the originally
+gorgeous colours of his kilt had faded--noticeable chiefly on
+weekdays, when he wore no sporran; for the kilt, encountering, from
+its loose construction, comparatively little strain or friction,
+may reach an antiquity unknown to the garments of the low country,
+and, while perfectly decent, yet look ancient exceedingly. On
+Sundays, however, he made the best of himself, and came out like
+a belated and aged butterfly--with his father's sporran, or
+tasselled goatskin purse, in front of him, his grandfather's dirk
+at his side, his great grandfather's skene dhu, or little black
+hafted knife, stuck in the stocking of his right leg, and a huge
+round brooch of brass--nearly half a foot in diameter, and, Mr
+Graham said, as old as the battle of Harlaw--on his left shoulder.
+In these adornments he would walk proudly to church, leaning on
+the arm of his grandson.
+
+"The piper's gey (considerably) brokken-like the day," said one of
+the fishermen's wives to a neighbour as he passed them--the fact
+being that he had not yet recovered from his second revel in the
+pipes so soon after the exhaustion of his morning's duty, and was,
+in consequence, more asthmatic than usual.
+
+"I doobt he'll be slippin' awa some cauld nicht," said the other:
+"his leevin' breath's ill to get."
+
+"Ay; he has to warstle for't, puir man! Weel, he'll be missed, the
+blin' body! It's exterordinor hoo he's managed to live, and bring
+up sic a fine lad as that Malcolm o' his."
+
+"Weel, ye see, Providence has been kin' till him as weel 's ither
+blin' craturs. The toon's pipin' 's no to be despised; an' there's
+the cryin', an' the chop, an' the lamps. 'Deed he's been an eident
+(diligent) cratur--an' for a blin' man, as ye say, it 's jist
+exterordinar."
+
+"Div ye min' whan first he cam' to the toon, lass?"
+
+"Ay; what wad hinner me min'in' that? It's nae sae lang."
+
+"Ma'colm 'at's sic a fine laad noo, they tell me wasna muckle bigger
+nor a gey haddie (tolerable haddock)."
+
+"But the auld man was an auld man than, though nae doobt he's unco'
+failed sin syne."
+
+"A dochter's bairn, they say, the laad."
+
+"Ay, they say, but wha kens? Duncan could never be gotten to open
+his mou' as to the father or mither o' 'im, an' sae it weel may be
+as they say. It's nigh twenty year noo,  thinkin' sin he made's
+appearance. Ye wasna come frae Scaurnose er' than."
+
+"Some fowk says the auld man's name's no MacPhail, an' he maun
+hae come here in hidin' for some rouch job or ither 'at he's been
+mixed up wi'.
+
+"I s' believe nae ill o' sic a puir, hairmless body. Fowk 'at maks
+their ain livin', wantin' the een to guide them, canna be that far
+aff the straucht. Guid guide 's! we hae eneuch to answer for, oor
+ainsels, ohn passed (without passing) jeedgment upo ane anither."
+
+"I was but tellin' ye what fowk telled me," returned the younger
+woman.
+
+"Ay, ay, lass; I ken that, for I ken there was fowk to tell ye."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII: ALEXANDER GRAHAM
+
+
+As soon as his grandfather left the house, Malcolm went out also,
+closing the door behind him, and turning the key, but leaving it
+in the lock. He ascended to the upper town, only, however, to pass
+through its main street, at the top of which he turned and looked
+back for a few moments, apparently in contemplation. The descent to
+the shore was so sudden that he could see nothing of the harbour
+or of the village he had left--nothing but the blue bay and
+the filmy mountains of Sutherlandshire, molten by distance into
+cloudy questions, and looking, betwixt blue sea and blue sky, less
+substantial than either. After gazing for a moment, he turned again,
+and held on his way, through fields which no fence parted from the
+road. The morning was still glorious, the larks right jubilant,
+and the air filled with the sweet scents of cottage flowers. Across
+the fields came the occasional low of an ox, and the distant sounds
+of children at play. But Malcolm saw without noting, and heard
+without seeding, for his mind was full of speculation concerning
+the lovely girl, whose vision appeared already far off:--who might
+she be? whence had she come? whither could she have vanished? That
+she did not belong to the neighbourhood was certain, he thought; but
+there was a farm house near the sea town where they let lodgings;
+and, although it was early in the season, she might belong to some
+family which had come to spend a few of the summer weeks there;
+possibly his appearance had prevented her from having her bath
+that morning. If he should have the good fortune to see her again,
+he would show her a place far fitter for the purpose--a perfect
+arbour of rocks, utterly secluded, with a floor of deep sand, and
+without a hole for crab or lobster.
+
+His road led him in the direction of a few cottages lying in
+a hollow. Beside them rose a vision of trees, bordered by an ivy
+grown wall, from amidst whose summits shot the spire of the church;
+and from beyond the spire, through the trees, came golden glimmers
+as of vane and crescent and pinnacled ball, that hinted at some
+shadowy abode of enchantment within; but as he descended the slope
+towards the cottages the trees gradually rose and shut in everything.
+
+These cottages were far more ancient than the houses of the town,
+were covered with green thatch, were buried in ivy, and would
+soon be radiant with roses and honeysuckles. They were gathered
+irregularly about a gate of curious old ironwork, opening on the
+churchyard, but more like an entrance to the grounds behind the
+church, for it told of ancient state, bearing on each of its pillars
+a great stone heron with a fish in its beak.
+
+This was the quarter whence had come the noises of children, but
+they had now ceased, or rather sunk into a gentle murmur, which
+oozed, like the sound of bees from a straw covered beehive, out
+of a cottage rather larger than the rest, which stood close by the
+churchyard gate. It was the parish school, and these cottages were
+all that remained of the old town of Portlossie, which had at one
+time stretched in a long irregular street almost to the shore.
+The town cross yet stood, but away solitary on a green hill that
+overlooked the sands.
+
+During the summer the long walk from the new town to the school
+and to the church was anything but a hardship: in winter it was
+otherwise, for then there were days in which few would venture the
+single mile that separated them.
+
+The door of the school, bisected longitudinally, had one of its
+halves open, and by it outflowed the gentle hum of the honeybees
+of learning. Malcolm walked in, and had the whole of the busy scene
+at once before him. The place was like a barn, open from wall to
+wall, and from floor to rafters and thatch, browned with the peat
+smoke of vanished winters. Two thirds of the space were filled
+with long desks and forms; the other had only the master's desk,
+and thus afforded room for standing classes. At the present moment
+it was vacant, for the prayer was but just over, and the Bible class
+had not been called up: there Alexander Graham, the schoolmaster,
+descending from his desk, met and welcomed Malcolm with a kind
+shake of the hand. He was a man of middle height, but very thin;
+and about five and forty years of age, but looked older, because
+of his thin grey hair and a stoop in the shoulders. He was dressed
+in a shabby black tailcoat, and clean white neckcloth; the rest of
+his clothes were of parson grey, noticeably shabby also. The quiet
+sweetness of his smile, and a composed look of submission were
+suggestive of the purification of sorrow, but were attributed by the
+townsfolk to disappointment; for he was still but a schoolmaster,
+whose aim they thought must be a pulpit and a parish. But Mr Graham
+had been early released from such an ambition, if it had ever
+possessed him, and had for many years been more than content to
+give himself to the hopefuller work of training children for the
+true ends of life: he lived the quietest of studious lives, with
+an old housekeeper.
+
+Malcolm had been a favourite pupil, and the relation of master
+and scholar did not cease when the latter saw that he ought to do
+something to lighten the burden of his grandfather, and so left
+the school and betook himself to the life of a fisherman--with
+the slow leave of Duncan, who had set his heart on making a scholar
+of him, and would never, indeed, had Gaelic been amongst his studies,
+have been won by the most laboursome petition. He asserted himself
+perfectly able to provide for both for ten years to come at least,
+in proof of which he roused the inhabitants of Portlossie, during
+the space of a whole month, a full hour earlier than usual, with
+the most terrific blasts of the bagpipes, and this notwithstanding
+complaint and expostulation on all sides, so that at length the
+provost had to interfere; after which outburst of defiance to time,
+however, his energy had begun to decay so visibly that Malcolm gave
+himself to the pipes in secret, that he might be ready, in case
+of sudden emergency, to take his grandfather's place; for Duncan
+lived in constant dread of the hour when his office might be taken
+from him and conferred on a mere drummer, or, still worse, on a
+certain ne'er do weel cousin of the provost, so devoid of music as
+to be capable only of ringing a bell.
+
+"I've had an invitation to Miss Campbell's funeral--Miss Horn's
+cousin, you know," said Mr Graham, in a hesitating and subdued
+voice: "could you manage to take the school for me, Malcolm?"
+
+"Yes, sir. There's naething to hinner me. What day is 't upo'?"
+
+"Saturday."
+
+"Verra weel, sir. I s' be here in guid time."
+
+This matter settled, the business of the school, in which, as he
+did often, Malcolm had come to assist, began. Only a pupil of his
+own could have worked with Mr Graham, for his mode was very peculiar.
+But the strangest fact in it would have been the last to reveal
+itself to an ordinary observer. This was, that he rarely contradicted
+anything: he would call up the opposing truth, set it face to face
+with the error, and leave the two to fight it out. The human mind
+and conscience were, he said, the plains of Armageddon, where the
+battle of good and evil was for ever raging; and the one business
+of a teacher was to rouse and urge this battle by leading fresh
+forces of the truth into the field--forces composed as little
+as might be of the hireling troops of the intellect, and as much
+as possible of the native energies of the heart, imagination, and
+conscience. In a word, he would oppose error only by teaching the
+truth.
+
+In early life he had come under the influence of the writings of
+William Law, which he read as one who pondered every doctrine in
+that light which only obedience to the truth can open upon it. With
+a keen eye for the discovery of universal law in the individual
+fact, he read even the marvels of the New Testament practically.
+Hence, in training his soldiers, every lesson he gave them was a
+missile; every admonishment of youth or maiden was as the mounting
+of an armed champion, and the launching of him with a Godspeed into
+the thick of the fight.
+
+He now called up the Bible class, and Malcolm sat beside and
+listened. That morning they had to read one of the chapters in the
+history of Jacob.
+
+"Was Jacob a good man?" he asked, as soon as the reading, each of
+the scholars in turn taking a verse, was over.
+
+An apparently universal expression of assent followed; halting its
+wake, however, came the voice of a boy near the bottom of the class:
+
+"Wasna he some dooble, sir?"
+
+"You are right, Sheltie," said the master; "he was double. I must,
+I find, put the question in another shape:--Was Jacob a bad man?"
+
+Again came such a burst of yesses that it might have been taken
+for a general hiss. But limping in the rear came again the half
+dissentient voice of Jamie Joss, whom the master had just addressed
+as Sheltie:
+
+"Pairtly, sir."
+
+"You think, then, Sheltie, that a man may be both bad and good?"
+
+"I dinna ken, sir. I think he may be whiles ane an' whiles the
+ither, an' whiles maybe it wad be ill to say whilk. Oor collie's
+whiles in twa min's whether he'll du what he's telled or no."
+
+"That's the battle of Armageddon, Sheltie, my man. It's aye ragin',
+ohn gun roared or bayonet clashed. Ye maun up an' do yer best in't,
+my man. Gien ye dee fechtin' like a man, ye'll flee up wi' a quaiet
+face an' wide open een; an' there's a great Ane 'at 'll say to ye,
+'Weel dune, laddie!' But gien ye gie in to the enemy, he'll turn ye
+intill a creepin' thing 'at eats dirt; an' there 'll no be a hole
+in a' the crystal wa' o' the New Jerusalem near eneuch to the grun'
+to lat ye creep throu'."
+
+As soon as ever Alexander Graham, the polished thinker and sweet
+mannered gentleman, opened his mouth concerning the things he
+loved best, that moment the most poetic forms came pouring out in
+the most rugged speech.
+
+"I reckon, sir," said Sheltie, "Jacob hadna fouchten oot his battle."
+
+"That's jist it, my boy. And because he wouldna get up and fecht
+manfully, God had to tak him in han'. Ye've heard tell o' generals,
+when their troops war rinnin' awa', haein' to cut this man doon,
+shute that ane, and lick anither, till he turned them a' richt face
+aboot and drave them on to the foe like a spate! And the trouble
+God took wi' Jacob wasna lost upon him at last."
+
+"An' what cam o' Esau, sir?" asked a pale faced maiden with blue
+eyes. "He wasna an ill kin' o' a chield--was he, sir?"
+
+"No, Mappy," answered the master; "he was a fine chield, as you
+say; but he nott (needed) mair time and gentler treatment to mak
+onything o' him. Ye see he had a guid hert, but was a duller kin'
+o' cratur a'thegither, and cared for naething he could na see or
+hanle. He never thoucht muckle aboot God at a'. Jacob was anither
+sort--a poet kin' o' a man, but a sneck drawin' cratur for a'
+that. It was easier, hooever, to get the slyness oot o' Jacob, than
+the dulness oot o' Esau. Punishment tellt upo' Jacob like upon a
+thin skinned horse, whauras Esau was mair like the minister's powny,
+that can hardly be made to unnerstan' that ye want him to gang on.
+But o' the ither han', dullness is a thing that can be borne wi':
+there's nay hurry aboot that; but the deceitfu' tricks o' Jacob war
+na to be endured, and sae the tawse (leather strap) cam doon upo'
+him."
+
+"An' what for didna God mak Esau as clever as Jacob?" asked a
+wizened faced boy near the top of the class.
+
+"Ah, my Peery!" said Mr Graham, "I canna tell ye that. A' that I can
+tell is, that God hadna dune makin' at him, an' some kin' o' fowk
+tak langer to mak oot than ithers. An' ye canna tell what they're
+to be till they're made oot. But whether what I tell ye be richt
+or no, God maun hae the verra best o' rizzons for 't, ower guid
+maybe for us to unnerstan'---the best o' rizzons for Esau himsel', I
+mean, for the Creator luiks efter his cratur first ava' (of all).
+--And now," concluded Mr Graham, resuming his English, "go to your
+lessons; and be diligent, that God may think it worth while to get
+on faster with the making of you."
+
+In a moment the class was dispersed and all were seated. In another,
+the sound of scuffling arose, and fists were seen storming across
+a desk.
+
+"Andrew Jamieson and Poochy, come up here," said the master in a
+loud voice.
+
+"He hittit me first," cried Andrew, the moment they were within a
+respectful distance of the master, whereupon Mr Graham turned to
+the other with inquiry in his eyes.
+
+"He had nae business to ca' me Poochy."
+
+"No more he had; but you had just as little right to punish him
+for it. The offence was against me: he had no right to use my name
+for you, and the quarrel was mine. For the present you are Poochy
+no more: go to your place, William Wilson."
+
+The boy burst out sobbing, and crept back to his seat with his
+knuckles in his eyes.
+
+"Andrew Jamieson," the master went on, "I had almost got a name
+for you, but you have sent it away. You are not ready for it yet,
+I see. Go to your place."
+
+With downcast looks Andrew followed William, and the watchful eyes
+of the master saw that, instead of quarrelling any more during
+the day, they seemed to catch at every opportunity of showing each
+other a kindness.
+
+Mr Graham never used bodily punishment: he ruled chiefly by the
+aid of a system of individual titles, of the mingled characters of
+pet name and nickname. As soon as the individuality of a boy had
+attained to signs of blossoming--that is, had become such that
+he could predict not only an upright but a characteristic behaviour
+in given circumstances, he would take him aside and whisper in his
+ear that henceforth, so long as he deserved it, he would call him
+by a certain name--one generally derived from some object in the
+animal or vegetable world, and pointing to a resemblance which was
+not often patent to any eye but the master's own. He had given the
+name of Peachy, for instance to William Wilson, because, like the
+kangaroo, he sought his object in a succession of awkward, yet not
+the less availing leaps--gulping his knowledge and pocketing his
+conquered marble after a like fashion. Mappy, the name which thus
+belonged to a certain flaxen haired, soft eyed girl, corresponds
+to the English bunny. Sheltie is the small Scotch mountain pony,
+active and strong. Peery means pegtop. But not above a quarter of
+the children had pet names. To gain one was to reach the highest
+honour of the school; the withdrawal of it was the severest of
+punishments, and the restoring of it the sign of perfect reconciliation.
+The master permitted no one else to use it, and was seldom known
+to forget himself so far as to utter it while its owner was in
+disgrace. The hope of gaining such a name, or the fear of losing
+it, was in the pupil the strongest ally of the master, the most
+powerful enforcement of his influences. It was a scheme of government
+by aspiration. But it owed all its operative power to the character
+of the man who had adopted rather than invented it--for the scheme
+had been suggested by a certain passage in the book of the Revelation.
+
+Without having read a word of Swedenborg, he was a believer in the
+absolute correspondence of the inward and outward; and, thus long
+before the younger Darwin arose, had suspected a close relationship
+--remote identity, indeed, in nature and history, between the
+animal and human worlds. But photographs from a good many different
+points would be necessary to afford anything like a complete notion
+of the character of this country schoolmaster.
+
+Towards noon, while he was busy with an astronomical class,
+explaining, by means partly of the blackboard, partly of two boys
+representing the relation of the earth and the moon, how it comes
+that we see but one half of the latter, the door gently opened
+and the troubled face of the mad laird peeped slowly in. His body
+followed as gently, and at last--sad symbol of his weight of care
+--his hump appeared, with a slow half revolution as he turned to
+shut the door behind him. Taking off his hat, he walked up to Mr
+Graham, who, busy with his astronomy, had not perceived his entrance,
+touched him on the arm, and, standing on tiptoe, whispered softly
+in his ear, as if it were a painful secret that must be respected,
+"I dinna ken whaur I cam frae. I want to come to the school."
+
+Mr Graham turned and shook hands with him, respectfully addressing
+him as Mr Stewart, and got down for him the armchair which stood
+behind his desk. But, with the politest bow, the laird declined
+it, and mournfully repeating the words, "I dinna ken whaur I cam
+frae," took a place readily yielded him in the astronomical circle
+surrounding the symbolic boys.
+
+This was not by any means his first appearance there; for every
+now and then he was seized with a desire to go to school, plainly
+with the object of finding out where he came from. This always
+fell in his quieter times, and for days together he would attend
+regularly; in one instance he was not absent an hour for a whole
+month. He spoke so little, however, that it was impossible to tell
+how much he understood, although he seemed to enjoy all that went
+on. He was so quiet, so sadly gentle, that he gave no trouble of
+any sort, and after the first few minutes of a fresh appearance,
+the attention of the scholars was rarely distracted by his presence.
+
+The way in which the master treated him awoke like respect in his
+pupils. Boys and girls were equally ready t. make room for him on
+their forms, and any one of the latter who had by some kind attention
+awakened the watery glint of a smile on the melancholy features of
+the troubled man, would boast of her success. Hence it came that
+the neighbourhood of Portlossie was the one spot in the county
+where a person of weak intellect or peculiar appearance might go
+about free of insult.
+
+The peculiar sentence the laird so often uttered was the only one
+he invariably spoke with definite clearness. In every other attempt
+at speech he was liable to be assailed by an often recurring
+impediment, during the continuance of which he could compass
+but a word here and there, often betaking himself in the agony of
+suppressed utterance, to the most extravagant gestures, with which
+he would sometimes succeed in so supplementing his words as to
+render his meaning intelligible.
+
+The two boys representing the earth and the moon, had returned
+to their places in the class, and Mr Graham had gone on to give
+a description of the moon, in which he had necessarily mentioned
+the enormous height of her mountains as compared with those of
+the earth. But in the course of asking some questions, he found a
+need of further explanation, and therefore once more required the
+services of the boy sun and boy moon. The moment the latter, however,
+began to describe his circle around the former, Mr Stewart stepped
+gravely up to him, and, laying hold of his hand, led him back to
+his station in the class: then, turning first one shoulder, then
+the other to the company, so as to attract attention to his hump,
+uttered the single word Mountain, and took on himself the part of
+the moon, proceeding to revolve in the circle which represented her
+orbit. Several of the boys and girls smiled, but no one laughed,
+for Mr Graham's gravity maintained theirs. Without remark, he used
+the mad laird for a moon to the end of his explanation.
+
+Mr Stewart remained in the school all the morning, stood up with
+every class Mr Graham taught, and in the intervals sat, with book
+or slate before him, still as a Brahmin on the fancied verge of
+his re-absorption, save that he murmured to himself now and then,
+
+"I dinna ken whaur I cam frae."
+
+When his pupils dispersed for dinner, Mr Graham invited him to go
+to his house and share his homely meal, but with polished gesture
+and broken speech, Mr Stewart declined, walked away towards the
+town, and was seen no more that afternoon.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII: THE SWIVEL
+
+
+Mrs Courthope, the housekeeper at Lossie House, was a good woman,
+who did not stand upon her dignities, as small rulers are apt to
+do, but cultivated friendly relations with the people of the Sea
+Town. Some of the rougher of the women despised the sweet outlandish
+speech she had brought with her from her native England, and accused
+her of mim mou'dness, or an affected modesty in the use of words;
+but not the less was she in their eyes a great lady,--whence
+indeed came the special pleasure in finding flaws in her--for to
+them she was the representative of the noble family on whose skirts
+they and their ancestors had been settled for ages, the last marquis
+not having visited the place for many years, and the present having
+but lately succeeded.
+
+Duncan MacPhail was a favourite with her; for the English woman
+will generally prefer the highland to the lowland Scotsman; and
+she seldom visited the Seaton without looking in upon him so that
+when Malcolm returned from the Alton, or Old Town, where the school
+was, it did not in the least surprise him to find her seated with
+his grandfather.
+
+Apparently, however, there had been some dissension between them;
+for the old man sat in his corner strangely wrathful, his face in
+a glow, his head thrown back, his nostrils distended, and his eyelids
+working, as if his eyes were "poor dumb mouths," like Caesar's
+wounds, trying to speak.
+
+"We are told in the New Testament to forgive our enemies, you know,"
+said Mrs Courthope, heedless of his entrance, but in a voice that
+seemed rather to plead than oppose.
+
+"Inteet she will not be false to her shief and her clan," retorted
+Duncan persistently. "She will not forgife Cawmil of Glenlyon."
+
+"But he's dead long since, and we may at least hope he repented
+and was forgiven."
+
+"She'll be hoping nothing of the kind, Mistress Kertope," replied
+Duncan. "But if, as you say, God will be forgifing him, which I do
+not belief;--let that pe enough for ta greedy blackguard. Sure,
+it matters but small whether poor Tuncan MacPhail will be forgifing
+him or not. Anyhow, he must do without it, for he shall not haf
+it. He is a tamn fillain and scounrel, and so she says, with her
+respecs to you, Mistress Kertope."
+
+His sightless eyes flashed with indignation; and perceiving it was
+time to change the subject, the housekeeper turned to Malcolm.
+
+"Could you bring me a nice mackerel or whiting for my lord's
+breakfast tomorrow morning, Malcolm?" she said.
+
+"Certaintly, mem. I s' be wi ye in guid time wi' the best the sea
+'ll gie me," he answered.
+
+"If I have the fish by nine o'clock, that will be early enough,"
+she returned.
+
+"I wad na like to wait sae lang for my brakfast," remarked Malcolm.
+
+"You wouldn't mind it much, if you waited asleep," said Mrs Courthope.
+
+"Can onybody sleep till sic a time o' day as that?" exclaimed the
+youth.
+
+"You must remember my lord doesn't go to bed for hours after you,
+Malcolm."
+
+"An' what can keep him up a' that time? It's no as gien he war
+efter the herrin', an' had the win' an' the watter an' the netfu's
+o' waumlin craturs to baud him waukin'."
+
+"Oh! he reads and writes, and sometimes goes walking about the
+grounds after everybody else is in bed," said Mrs Courthope, "he
+and his dog."
+
+"Well, I wad rather be up ear'," said Malcolm; "a heap raither. I
+like fine to be oot i' the quaiet o' the mornin' afore the sun's
+up to set the din gaun; whan it 's a' clear but no bricht--like
+the back o' a bonny sawmon; an' air an' watter an' a' luiks as
+gien they war waitin' for something--quaiet, verra quaiet, but
+no content."
+
+Malcolm uttered this long speech, and went on with more like it,
+in the hope of affording time for the stormy waters of Duncan's
+spirit to assuage. Nor was he disappointed; for, if there was a
+sound on the earth Duncan loved to hear, it was the voice of his
+boy; and by degrees the tempest sank to repose, the gathered glooms
+melted from his countenance, and the sunlight of a smile broke out.
+
+"Hear to him!" he cried. "Her poy will be a creat pard some tay,
+and sing pefore ta Stuart kings, when they come pack to Holyrood!"
+
+Mrs Courthope had enough of poetry in her to be pleased with
+Malcolm's quiet enthusiasm, and spoke a kind word of sympathy with
+the old man's delight as she rose to take her leave. Duncan rose
+also, and followed her to the door, making her a courtly bow, and
+that just as she turned away.
+
+"It 'll pe a coot 'oman, Mistress Kertope," he said as he came back;
+"and it 'll no pe to plame her for forgifing Glenlyon, for he did
+not kill her creat crandmother. Put it'll pe fery paad preeding to
+request her nainsel, Tuncan MacPhail, to be forgifing ta rascal.
+Only she'll pe put a voman, and it'll not pe knowing no petter to
+her.--You'll be minding you'll be firing ta cun at six o'clock
+exackly, Malcolm, for all she says; for my lord peing put shust
+come home to his property, it might be a fex to him if tere was
+any mistake so soon. Put inteed, I yonder he hasn't been sending
+for old Tuncan to be gifing him a song or two on ta peeps; for he'll
+pe hafing ta oceans of fery coot highland plood in his own feins;
+and his friend, ta Prince of Wales, who has no more rights to it
+than a maackerel fish, will pe wearing ta kilts at Holyrood. So
+mind you pe firing ta cun at sax, my son."
+
+For some years, young as he was, Malcolm had hired himself to one
+or other of the boat proprietors of the Seaton or of Scaurnose, for
+the herring fishing--only, however, in the immediate neighbourhood,
+refusing to go to the western islands, or any station whence
+he could not return to sleep at his grandfather's cottage. He had
+thus on every occasion earned enough to provide for the following
+winter, so that his grandfather's little income as piper, and other
+small returns, were accumulating in various concealments about the
+cottage; for, in his care for the future, Duncan dreaded lest Malcolm
+should buy things for him, without which, in his own sightless
+judgment, he could do well enough.
+
+Until the herring season should arrive, however, Malcolm made a little
+money by line fishing; for he had bargained, the year before, with
+the captain of a schooner for an old ship's boat, and had patched
+and caulked it into a sufficiently serviceable condition. He sold
+his fish in the town and immediate neighbourhood, where a good many
+housekeepers favoured the handsome and cheery young fisherman.
+
+He would now be often out in the bay long before it was time to call
+his grandfather, in his turn to rouse the sleepers of Portlossie.
+But the old man had as yet always waked about the right time, and
+the inhabitants had never had any ground of complaint--a few
+minutes one way or the other being of little consequence. He was
+the cock which woke the whole yard: morning after morning his pipes
+went crowing through the streets of the upper region, his music
+ending always with his round. But after the institution of the
+gun signal, his custom was to go on playing where he stood until
+he heard it, or to stop short in the midst of his round and his
+liveliest reveille the moment it reached his ear. Loath as he might
+be to give over, that sense of good manners which was supreme in
+every highlander of the old time, interdicted the fingering of a
+note after the marquis's gun had called aloud.
+
+When Malcolm meant to go fishing, he always loaded the swivel the
+night before, and about sunset the same evening he set out for that
+purpose. Not a creature was visible on the border of the curving
+bay except a few boys far off on the gleaming sands whence the tide
+had just receded: they were digging for sand eels--lovely little
+silvery fishes--which, as every now and then the spade turned one
+or two up, they threw into a tin pail for bait. But on the summit
+of the long sandhill, the lonely figure of a man was walking to
+and fro in the level light of the rosy west; and as Malcolm climbed
+the near end of the dune, it was turning far off at the other:
+halfway between them was the embrasure with the brass swivel, and
+there they met. Although he had never seen him before, Malcolm
+perceived at once it must be Lord Lossie, and lifted his bonnet.
+The marquis nodded and passed on, but the next moment, hearing the
+noise of Malcolm's proceedings with the swivel, turned and said--
+"What are you about there with that gun, my lad?"
+
+" jist ga'in' to dicht her oot an' lod her, my lord," answered
+Malcolm.
+
+"And what next? You're not going to fire the thing?"
+
+"Ay--the morn's mornin', my lord."
+
+"What will that be for?"
+
+"Ow, jist to wauk yer lordship."
+
+"Hm!" said his lordship, with more expression than articulation.
+
+"Will I no lod her?" asked Malcolm, throwing down the ramrod, and
+approaching the swivel, as if to turn the muzzle of it again into
+the embrasure.
+
+"Oh, yes! load her by all means. I don't want to interfere with
+any of your customs. But if that is your object, the means, I fear,
+are inadequate."
+
+"It's a comfort to hear that, my lord; for I canna aye be sure o'
+my auld watch, an' may weel be oot a five minutes or twa whiles.
+Sae, in future, seem' it 's o' sic sma' consequence to yer lordship,
+I s' jist let her aff whan it 's convenient. A feow minutes winna
+maitter muckle to the bailie bodies."
+
+There was something in Malcolm's address that pleased Lord Lossie
+--the mingling of respect and humour, probably--the frankness
+and composure, perhaps. He was not self conscious enough to be shy,
+and was so free from design of any sort that he doubted the good
+will of no one.
+
+"What's your name?" asked the marquis abruptly.
+
+"Malcolm MacPhail, my lord."
+
+"MacPhail? I heard the name this very day! Let me see."
+
+"My gran'father's the blin' piper, my lord."
+
+"Yes, yes. Tell him I shall want him at the House. I left my own
+piper at Ceanglas."
+
+"I'll fess him wi' me the morn, gien ye like, my lord, for I'll
+be ower wi' some fine troot or ither, gien I haena the waur luck,
+the morn's mornin': Mistress Courthope says she'll be aye ready for
+ane to fry to yer lordship's brakfast. But  thinkin' that'll be
+ower ear' for ye to see him."
+
+"I'll send for him when I want him. Go on with your brazen serpent
+there, only mind you don't give her too much supper."
+
+"Jist look at her ribs, my lord! she winna rive!" was the youth's
+response; and the marquis was moving off with a smile, when Malcolm
+called after him.
+
+"Gien yer lordship likes to see yer ain ferlies, I ken whaur some
+o' them lie," he said.
+
+"What do you mean by ferlies?" asked the marquis.
+
+"Ow! keeriosities, ye ken. For enstance, there's some queer
+caves alang the cost--twa or three o' them afore ye come to the
+Scaurnose. They say the water bude till ha' howkit them ance upon
+a time, an' they maun hae been fu' o' partans, an' lobsters, an'
+their frien's an' neebours; but they're heigh an' dreigh noo, as the
+fule said o' his minister, an' naething intill them but foumarts,
+an' otters, an' sic like."
+
+"Well, well, my lad, we'll see," said his lordship kindly and
+turning once more, he resumed his walk.
+
+"At yer lordship's will," answered Malcolm in a low voice as he
+lifted his bonnet and again bent to the swivel.
+
+The next morning, he was rowing slowly along in the bay, when he
+was startled by the sound of his grandfather's pipes, wafted clear
+and shrill on a breath of southern wind, from the top of the town.
+He looked at his watch: it was not yet five o'clock. The expectation
+of a summons to play at Lossie House, had so excited the old man's
+brain that he had waked long before his usual time, and Portlossie
+must wake also. The worst of it was, that he had already, as Malcolm
+knew from the direction of the sound, almost reached the end of
+his beat, and must even now be expecting the report of the swivel,
+until he heard which he would not cease playing, so long as there
+was a breath in his body. Pulling, therefore, with all his might,
+Malcolm soon ran his boat ashore, and in another instant the sharp
+yell of the swivel rang among the rocks of the promontory. He was
+still standing, lapped in a light reverie as he watched the smoke
+flying seaward, when a voice, already well known to him said,
+close at his side:
+
+"What are you about with that horrid cannon?"
+
+Malcolm started.
+
+"Ye garred me loup, my leddy!" he returned with a smile and an
+obeisance.
+
+"You told me," the girl went on emphatically, and as she spoke she
+disengaged her watch from her girdle, "that you fired it at six
+o'clock. It is not nearly six."
+
+"Didna ye hear the pipes, my leddy?" he rejoined.
+
+"Yes, well enough; but a whole regiment of pipes can't make it six
+o'clock when my watch says ten minutes past five."
+
+"Eh, sic a braw watch!" exclaimed Malcolm. "What's a' thae bonny
+white k-nots about the face o' 't?"
+
+"Pearls," she answered, in a tone that implied pity of his ignorance.
+
+"Jist look at it aside mine!" he exclaimed in admiration, pulling
+out his great old turnip.
+
+"There!" cried the girl; "your own watch says only a quarter past
+five."
+
+"Ow, ay! my leddy; I set it by the toon clock 'at hings i' the window
+o' the Lossie Airms last nicht. But I maun awa' an' luik efter my
+lines, or atween the deil an' the dogfish my lord'll fare ill."
+
+"You haven't told me why you fired the gun," she persisted.
+
+Thus compelled, Malcolm had to explain that the motive lay in his
+anxiety lest his grandfather should over exert himself, seeing he
+was subject to severe attacks of asthma.
+
+"He could stop when he was tired," she objected.
+
+"Ay, gien his pride wad lat him," answered Malcolm, and turned away
+again, eager to draw his line.
+
+"Have you a boat of your own?" asked the lady.
+
+"Ay; yon's her, doon on the shore yonner. Wad ye like a row? She's
+fine an' quaiet."
+
+"Who? The boat?"
+
+"The sea, my leddy."
+
+"Is your boat clean?"
+
+"O' a' thing but fish. But na, it 's no fit for sic a bonny goon as
+that. I winna lat ye gang the day, my leddy; but gien ye like to
+be here the morn's mornin', I s' be here at this same hoor, an'
+hae my boat as clean's a Sunday sark."
+
+"You think more of my gown than of myself," she returned.
+
+"There's no fear o' yersel', my leddy. Ye're ower weel made to bland
+(spoil). But wae's me for the goon or (before) it had been an hoor
+i' the boat the day!--no to mention the fish comin' walopin' ower
+the gunnel ane efter the ither. But 'deed I maun say good mornin',
+mem!"
+
+"By all means. I don't want to keep you a moment from your precious
+fish."
+
+Feeling rebuked, without well knowing why, Malcolm accepted the
+dismissal, and ran to his boat. By the time he had taken his oars,
+the girl had vanished.
+
+His line was a short one; but twice the number of fish he wanted
+were already hanging from the hooks. It was still very early when
+he reached the harbour. At home he found his grandfather waiting
+for him, and his breakfast ready.
+
+It was hard to convince Duncan that he had waked the royal burgh
+a whole hour too soon. He insisted that, as he had never made such
+a blunder before, he could not have made it now.
+
+"It's ta watch 'at 'll pe telling ta lies, Malcolm, my poy," he said
+thoughtfully. "She was once pefore."
+
+"But the sun says the same 's the watch, daddy," persisted Malcolm.
+
+Duncan understood the position of the sun and what it signified,
+as well as the clearest eyed man in Port Lossie, but he could not
+afford to yield.
+
+"It was peing some conspeeracy of ta cursit Cawmills, to make her
+loss her poor pension," he said. "Put never you mind, Malcolm;
+I'll pe making up for ta plunder ta morrow mornin'. Ta coot peoples
+shall haf teir sleeps a whole hour after tey ought to be at teir
+works."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX: THE SALMON TROUT
+
+
+Malcolm walked up through the town with his fish, hoping to part
+with some of the less desirable of them, and so lighten his basket,
+before entering the grounds of Lossie House. But he had met with
+little success, and was now approaching the town gate, as they called
+it, which closed a short street at right angles to the principal
+one, when he came upon Mrs Catanach--on her knees, cleaning her
+doorstep.
+
+"Weel, Malcolm, what fish hae ye?" she said, without looking up.
+
+"Hoo kent ye it was me, Mistress Catanach?" asked the lad.
+
+"Kent it was you!" she repeated. "Gien there be but twa feet at
+ance in ony street o' Portlossie, I'll tell ye whase heid's abune
+them, an' my een steekit (closed)."
+
+"Hoot! ye're a witch, Mistress Catanach!" said Malcolm merrily.
+
+"That's as may be," she returned, rising, and nodding mysteriously;
+"I hae tauld ye nae mair nor the trowth. But what garred ye whup's
+a' oot o' oor nakit beds by five o'clock i' the mornin', this
+mornin', man! That's no what ye're paid for."
+
+"Deed, mem, it was jist a mistak' o' my puir daddy's. He had been
+feart o' sleepin' ower lang, ye see, an' sae had waukit ower sune.
+I was oot efter the fish mysel."
+
+"But ye fired the gun 'gen the chap (before the stroke) o' five."
+
+"Ow, ay! I fired the gun. The puir man wod hae bursten himsel' gien
+I hadna."
+
+"Deil gien he had bursten himsel'--the auld heelan' sholt!"
+exclaimed Mrs Catanach spitefully.
+
+"Ye sanna even sic words to my gran'father, Mrs Catanach," said
+Malcolm with rebuke.
+
+She laughed a strange laugh.
+
+"Sanna!" she repeated contemptuously. "An' wha's your gran'father,
+that I sud tak tent (heed) hoo I wag my tongue ower his richtousness?"
+
+Then, with a sudden change of her tone to one of would be friendliness
+--"But what'll ye be seekin' for that bit sawmon trooty, man?"
+she said.
+
+As she spoke she approached his basket, and would have taken the
+fish in her hands, but Malcolm involuntarily drew back.
+
+"It's gauin' to the Hoose to my lord's brakfast," he said.
+
+"Hoots! ye'll jist lea' the troot wi' me.--Ye'll be seekin' a
+saxpence for 't, I reckon," she persisted, again approaching the
+basket.
+
+"I tell ye, Mistress Catanach," said Malcolm, drawing back now
+in the fear that if she once had it she would not yield it again,
+"it 's gauin' up to the Hoose!"
+
+"Hoots! there's naebody there seen 't yet. It's new oot o' the
+watter."
+
+"But Mistress Courthope was doon last nicht, an' wantit the best
+I cud heuk."
+
+"Mistress Courthope! Wha cares for her? A mim, cantin' auld body!
+Gie me the trootie, Ma'colm. Ye're a bonny laad, an 'it s' be the
+better for ye."
+
+"Deed I cudna du 't, Mistress Catanach--though  sorry to
+disobleege ye. It's bespoken, ye see. But there's a fine haddie,
+an' a bonny sma' coddie, an' a goukmey (gray gurnard)."
+
+"Gae 'wa' wi' yer haddies, an' yer goukmeys! Ye sanna gowk me wi'
+them."
+
+"Weel, I wadna wonner," said Malcolm, "gien Mrs Courthope wad like
+the haddie tu, an' maybe the lave o' them as weel. Hers is a muckle
+faimily to haud eatin.' I'll jist gang to the Hoose first afore I
+mak ony mair offers frae my creel."
+
+"Ye'll lea' the troot wi' me," said Mrs Catanach imperiously.
+
+"Na; I canna du that. Ye maun see yersel' 'at I canna."
+
+The woman's face grew dark with anger. "It s' be the waur for ye,"
+she cried.
+
+" no gauin' to be fleyt (frightened) at ye. Ye're no sic a witch
+as that comes till, though ye div ken a body's fit upo' the flags!
+My blin' luckie deddy can du mair nor that!" said Malcolm, irritated
+by her persistency, threats and evil looks.
+
+"Daur ye me?"' she returned, her pasty cheeks now red as fire, and
+her wicked eyes flashing as she shook her clenched fist at him.
+
+"What for no?" he answered coolly, turning his head back over his
+shoulder, for he was already on his way to the gate.
+
+"Ye s' ken that, ye misbegotten funlin'!" shrieked the woman, and
+waddled hastily into the house.
+
+"What ails her?" said Malcolm to himself. "She micht ha' seen 'at
+I bude to gie Mrs Courthope the first offer."
+
+By a winding carriage drive, through trees whose growth was stunted
+by the sea winds, which had cut off their tops as with a keen razor,
+Malcolm made a slow descent, yet was soon shadowed by timber of
+a more prosperous growth, rising as from a lake of the loveliest
+green, spangled with starry daisies. The air was full of sweet
+odours uplifted with the ascending dew, and trembled with a hundred
+songs at once, for here was a very paradise for birds. At length
+he came in sight of a long low wing of the house, and went to the
+door that led to the kitchen. There a maid informed him that Mrs
+Courthope was in the hall, and he had better take his basket there,
+for she wanted to see him. He obeyed, and sought the main entrance.
+
+The house was an ancient pile, mainly of two sides at right angles,
+but with many gables, mostly having corbel steps--a genuine old
+Scottish dwelling, small windowed and gray, with steep slated roofs,
+and many turrets, each with a conical top. Some of these turrets
+rose from the ground, encasing spiral stone stairs; others were
+but bartizans, their interiors forming recesses in rooms. They gave
+the house something of the air of a French chateau, only it looked
+stronger and far grimmer. Carved around some of the windows,
+in ancient characters, were Scripture texts and antique proverbs.
+Two time worn specimens of heraldic zoology, in a state of fearful
+and everlasting excitement, stood rampant and gaping, one on each
+side of the hall door, contrasting strangely with the repose of
+the ancient house, which looked very like what the oldest part of
+it was said to have been--a monastery. It had at the same time,
+however, a somewhat warlike expression, wherein consisting it would
+have been difficult to say; nor could it ever have been capable of
+much defence, although its position in that regard was splendid. In
+front was a great gravel space, in the centre of which lay a huge
+block of serpentine, from a quarry on the estate, filling the office
+of goal, being the pivot, as it were, around which all carriages
+turned.
+
+On one side of the house was a great stone bridge, of lofty span,
+stretching across a little glen, in which ran a brown stream spotted
+with foam--the same that entered the frith beside the Seaton; not
+muddy, however, for though dark it was clear--its brown being a
+rich transparent hue, almost red, gathered from the peat bogs of
+the great moorland hill behind. Only a very narrow terrace walk,
+with battlemented parapet, lay between the back of the house, and
+a precipitous descent of a hundred feet to this rivulet. Up its
+banks, lovely with flowers and rich with shrubs and trees below,
+you might ascend until by slow gradations you left the woods and
+all culture behind, and found yourself, though still within the
+precincts of Lossie House, on the lonely side of the waste hill,
+a thousand feet above the sea.
+
+The hall door stood open, and just within hovered Mrs Courthope,
+dusting certain precious things not to be handled by a housemaid.
+This portion of the building was so narrow that the hall occupied
+its entire width, and on the opposite side of it another door,
+standing also open, gave a glimpse of the glen.
+
+"Good morning, Malcolm," said Mrs Courthope, when she turned and
+saw whose shadow fell on the marble floor. "What have you brought
+me?"
+
+"A fine salmon troot, mem. But gien ye had hard boo Mistress
+Catanach flytit (scolded) at me 'cause I wadna gie't to her! You
+wad hae thocht, mem, she was something no canny--the w'y 'at she
+first beggit, an' syne fleecht (flattered), an syne a' but banned
+an' swore."
+
+"She's a peculiar person, that, Malcolm. Those are nice whitings.
+I don't care about the trout. Just take it to her as you go back."
+
+"I doobt gien she'll take it, mem. She's an awfu' vengefu' cratur,
+fowk says."
+
+"You remind me, Malcolm," returned Mrs Courthope, "that  not at
+ease about your grandfather. He is not in a Christian frame of mind
+at all--and he is an old man too. If we don't forgive our enemies,
+you know, the Bible plainly tells us we shall not be forgiven
+ourselves."
+
+" thinkin' it was a greater nor the Bible said that, mem,"
+returned Malcolm, who was an apt pupil of Mr Graham. "But ye'll be
+meanin' Cawmill o' Glenlyon," he went on with a smile. "It canna
+maitter muckle to him whether my gran'father forgie him or no,
+seein' he's been deid this hunner year."
+
+"It's not Campbell of Glenlyon, it 's your grandfather I am anxious
+about," said Mrs Courthope. "Nor is it only Campbell of Glenlyon
+he's so fierce against, but all his posterity as well."
+
+"They dinna exist, mem. There's no sic a bein' o' the face o' the
+yearth, as a descendant o' that Glenlyon."
+
+"It makes little difference, I fear," said Mrs Courthope, who was
+no bad logician. "The question isn't whether or not there's anybody
+to forgive, but whether Duncan MacPhail is willing to forgive."
+
+"That I do believe he is, mem; though he wad be as sair astonished
+to hear 't as ye are yersel'."
+
+"I don't know what you mean by that, Malcolm."
+
+"I mean, mem, 'at a blin' man, like my gran'father, canna ken himsel'
+richt, seein' he canna ken ither fowk richt. It's by kennin' ither
+fowk 'at ye come to ken yersel, mem--isna't noo?"
+
+"Blindness surely doesn't prevent a man from knowing other people.
+He hears them, and he feels them, and indeed has generally more
+kindness from them because of his affliction."
+
+"Frae some o' them, mem; but it 's little kin'ness my gran'father
+has expairienced frae Cawmill o' Glenlyon, mem."
+
+"And just as little injury, I should suppose," said Mrs Courthope.
+
+"Ye're wrang there, mem: a murdered mither maun be an unco skaith
+to oye's oye (grandson's grandson). But supposin' ye to be richt,
+what I say's to the pint for a' that I maun jist explain a wee.--
+When I was a laddie at the schule, I was ance tell't that ane o'
+the loons was i' the wye o' mockin' my gran'father. Whan I hard it,
+I thocht I cud jist rive the hert o' 'im, an' set my teeth in't,
+as the Dutch sodger did to the Spainiard. But whan I got a grip o'
+'im, an' the rascal turned up a frichtit kin' o' a dog-like face
+to me, I jist could not drive my steikit neive (clenched fist)
+intil't. Mem, a face is an awfu' thing! There's aye something luikin'
+oot o' 't 'at ye canna do as ye like wi'. But my gran'father never
+saw a face in's life--lat alane Glenlyon's 'at's been dirt for
+sae mony a year. Gien he war luikin' intil the face o' that Glenlyon
+even, I do believe he wad no more drive his durk intill him."
+
+"Drive his dirk into him!" echoed Mrs Courthope, in horror at the
+very disclaimer.
+
+"No,  sure he wad not," persisted Malcolm, innocently. "He micht
+not tak him oot o' a pot (hole in a riverbed), but he wad neither
+durk him nor fling him in.  no that sure he wadna even ran
+(reach) him a han'. Ae thing I am certain o',--that by the time
+he meets Glenlyon in haven, he'll be no that far frae lattin'
+byganes be byganes."
+
+"Meets Glenlyon in heaven!" again echoed Mrs Courthope, who knew
+enough of the story to be startled at the taken for granted way
+in which Malcolm spoke. "Is it probable that a wretch such as your
+legends describe him should ever get there?"
+
+"Ye dinna think God's forgien him, than, mem?"
+
+"I have no right to judge Glenlyon, or any other man; but, as you
+ask me, I must say I see no likelihood of it."
+
+"Hoo can ye compleen o' my puir blin' grandfather for no forgiein'
+him, than?--I hae ye there, mem!"
+
+"He may have repented, you know," said Mrs Courthope feebly, finding
+herself in less room than was comfortable.
+
+"In sic case," returned Malcolm, "the auld man 'ill hear a' aboot
+it the meenit he wins there; an' I mak nae doobt he'll du his best
+to perswaud himsel'."
+
+"But what if he shouldn't get there?" persisted Mrs Courthope, in
+pure benevolence.
+
+"Hoot toot, mem! I wonner to hear ye! A Cawmill latten in, and my
+gran'father hauden oot! That wad be jist yallow faced Willie ower
+again!*--Na, na; things gang anither gait up there. My gran'father's
+a rale guid man, for a' 'at he has a wye o' luikin' at things 'at's
+mair efter the law nor the gospel."
+
+*[Lord Stair, the prime mover in the Massacre of Glenco.]
+
+Apparently Mrs Courthope had come at length to the conclusion that
+Malcolm was as much of a heathen as his grandfather, for in silence
+she chose her fish, in silence paid him his price, and then with
+only a sad Good day, turned and left him.
+
+He would have gone back by the river side to the sea gate, but
+Mrs Courthope having waived her right to the fish in favour of Mrs
+Catanach, he felt bound to give her another chance, and so returned
+the way he had come.
+
+"Here's yer troot, Mistress Cat'nach," he called aloud at her door,
+which generally stood a little ajar. "Ye s' hae't for the saxpence
+--an' a guid bargain tu, for ane o' sic dimensions!"
+
+As he spoke, he held the fish in at the door, but his eyes were
+turned to the main street, whence the factor's gig was at the moment
+rounding the corner into that in which he stood; when suddenly the
+salmon trout was snatched from his hand, and flung so violently in
+his face, that he staggered back into the road: the factor had to
+pull sharply up to avoid driving over him. His rout rather than
+retreat was followed by a burst of insulting laughter, and at the
+same moment, out of the house rushed a large vile looking mongrel,
+with hair like an ill used doormat and an abbreviated nose, fresh
+from the ashpit, caught up the trout, and rushed with it towards
+the gate.
+
+"That's richt, my bairn!" shouted Mrs Catanach to the brute as he
+ran: "tak it to Mrs Courthope. Tak it back wi' my compliments."
+
+Amidst a burst of malign laughter she slammed her door, and from
+a window sideways watched the young fisherman.
+
+As he stood looking after the dog in wrath and bewilderment, the
+factor, having recovered from the fit of merriment into which the
+sudden explosion of events had cast him, and succeeded in quieting
+his scared horse, said, slackening his reins to move on,
+
+"You sell your fish too cheap, Malcolm."
+
+"The deil's i' the tyke," rejoined Malcolm, and, seized at last
+by a sense of the ludicrousness of the whole affair, burst
+out laughing, and turned for the High Street. .
+
+"Na, na, laddie; the deil's no awa' in sic a hurry: he bed (remained),"
+said a voice behind him.
+
+Malcolm turned again and lifted his bonnet. It was Miss Horn, who
+had come up from the Seaton.
+
+"Did ye see yon, mem?" he asked.
+
+"Ay, weel that, as I cam up the brae. Dinna stan' there, laddie.
+The jaud 'll be watchin' ye like a cat watchin' a mouse. I ken her!
+She's a cat wuman, an' I canna bide her. She's no mowse (safe to
+touch). She's in secrets mair nor guid, I s' wad (wager). Come awa'
+wi' me; I want a bit fish. I can ill eat an' her lyin' deid I' the
+hoose--it winna gang ower; but I maun get some strength pitten
+intil me afore the berial. It's a God's mercy I wasna made wi'
+feelin's, or what wad hae come o' me! Whaur's the gude o' greetin?
+It's no worth the saut i' the watter o' 't, Ma'colm. It's an ill
+wardle, an micht be a bonny ane--gien't warna for ill men."
+
+"'Deed, mem!  thinkin' mair aboot ill women, at this prasent,"
+said Malcolm. "Maybe there's no sic a thing, but yon's unco like ane.
+As bonny a sawmon troot 's ever ye saw, mem! It's a'  cawpable
+o' to haud ohn cursed that foul tyke o' hers."
+
+"Hoot, laddie! haud yer tongue."
+
+"Ay will I.  na gaun to du 't, ye ken. But sic a fine troot 's
+that--the verra ane ye wad hae likit, mem!"
+
+"Never ye min' the troot. There's mair whaur that cam frae. What
+anger't her at ye?"
+
+"Naething mair nor that I bude to gie Mistress Courthope the first
+wale (choice) o' my fish."
+
+"The wuman's no worth yer notice, 'cep to haud oot o' her gait,
+laddie; an' that ye had better luik till, for she's no canny. Dinna
+ye anger her again gien ye can help it. She has an ill luik, an' I
+canna bide her.--Hae, there's yer siller. Jean, tak in this fish."
+
+During the latter part of the conversation they had been standing
+at the door, while Miss Horn ferreted the needful pence from a
+pocket under her gown. She now entered, but as Malcolm waited for
+Jean to take the fish, she turned on the threshold, and said:
+
+"Wad ye no like to see her, Ma'colm?--A guid frien' she was to
+you, sae lang's she was here," she added after a short pause.
+
+The youth hesitated.
+
+"I never saw a corp i' my life, mem, an'  jist some feared," he
+said, after another brief silence.
+
+"Hoot, laddie!" returned Miss Horn, in a somewhat offended tone.
+--"That'll be what comes o' haein' feelin's. A bonny corp 's the
+bonniest thing in creation,--an' that quaiet!--Eh! sic a heap
+o' them as there has been sin' Awbel," she went on--"an ilk ane
+them luikin, as gien there never had been anither but itsel'! Ye
+oucht to see a corp, Ma'colm. Ye'll hae't to du afore ye're ane
+yersel', an' ye'll never see a bonnier nor my Grizel."
+
+"Be 't to yer wull, mem," said Malcolm resignedly.
+
+At once she led the way, and he followed her in silence up the
+stair and into the dead chamber.
+
+There on the white bed lay the long, black, misshapen thing she had
+called "the bit boxie:" and with a strange sinking at the heart,
+Malcolm approached it.
+
+Miss Horn's hand came from behind him, and withdrew a covering;
+there lay a vision lovely indeed to behold!--a fixed evanescence
+--a listening stillness,--awful, yet with a look of entreaty,
+at once resigned and unyielding, that strangely drew the heart
+of Malcolm. He saw a low white forehead, large eyeballs upheaving
+closed lids, finely modelled features of which the tightened skin
+showed all the delicacy, and a mouth of suffering whereon the
+vanishing Psyche had left the shadow of the smile with which she
+awoke. The tears gathered in his eyes, and Miss Horn saw them.
+
+"Ye maun lay yer han' upo' her, Ma'colm," she said. "Ye ma' aye
+touch the deid, to hand ye ohn dreamed aboot them."
+
+"I wad be laith," answered Malcolm; "she wad be ower bonny a dream
+to miss.--Are they a' like that?" he added, speaking under his
+breath.
+
+"Na, 'deed no!" replied Miss Horn, with mild indignation. "Wad ye
+expec' Bawby Cat'nach to luik like that, no?--I beg yer pardon for
+mentionin' the wuman, my dear," she added with sudden divergence,
+bending towards the still face, and speaking in a tenderly apologetic
+tone; "I ken weel ye canna bide the verra name o' her; but it s' be
+the last time ye s' hear 't to a' eternity, my doo." Then turning
+again to Malcolm.--"Lay yer han' upon her broo, I tell ye," she
+said.
+
+"I daurna," replied the youth, still under his breath; "my han's
+are no clean. I wadna for the warl' touch her wi' fishy han's."
+
+The same moment, moved by a sudden impulse, whose irresistibleness
+was veiled in his unconsciousness, he bent down, and put his lips
+to the forehead.
+
+As suddenly he started back erect with dismay on every feature.
+
+"Eh, mem!" he cried in an agonised whisper, "she's dooms cauld!"
+
+"What sud she be?" retorted Miss Horn. "Wad ye hae her beeried
+warm?"
+
+He followed her from the room in silence, with the sense of a faint
+sting on his lips. She led him into her parlour, and gave him a
+glass of wine.
+
+"Ye'll come to the beerial upo' Setterday?" she asked, half inviting,
+half enquiring.
+
+" sorry to say, mem, 'at I canna," he answered. "I promised
+Maister Graham to tak the schule for him, an' lat him gang."
+
+"Weel, weel! Mr Graham's obleeged to ye, nae doobt, an' we canna
+help it. Gie my compliments to yer gran'father."
+
+"I'll du that, mem. He'll be sair pleased, for he's unco gratefu'
+for ony sic attention," said Malcolm, and with the words took his
+leave.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X: THE FUNERAL
+
+
+That night the weather changed, and grew cloudy and cold. Saturday
+morning broke drizzly and dismal. A northeast wind tore off the
+tops of the drearily tossing billows. All was gray--enduring,
+hopeless gray. Along the coast the waves kept roaring on the sands,
+persistent and fateful; the Scaurnose was one mass of foaming white:
+and in the caves still haunted by the tide, the bellowing was like
+that of thunder.
+
+Through the drizzle shot wind and the fog blown in shreds from the
+sea, a large number of the most respectable of the male population
+of the burgh, clothed in Sunday gloom deepened by the crape on
+their hats, made their way to Miss Horn's, for, despite her rough
+manners, she was held in high repute. It was only such as had reason
+to dread the secret communication between closet and housetop that
+feared her tongue; if she spoke loud, she never spoke false, or
+backbit in the dark. What chiefly conduced however to the respect
+in which she was held, was that she was one of their own people,
+her father having died minister of the parish some twenty years
+before.
+
+Comparatively little was known of her deceased cousin, who had been
+much of an invalid, and had mostly kept to the house, but all had
+understood that Miss Horn was greatly attached to her; and it was
+for the sake of the living mainly that the dead was thus honoured.
+
+As the prayer drew to a close, the sounds of trampling and scuffling
+feet bore witness that Watty Witherspail and his assistants were
+carrying the coffin down the stair. Soon the company rose to follow
+it, and trooping out, arranged themselves behind the hearse, which,
+horrid with nodding plumes and gold and black panelling, drew away
+from the door to make room for them.
+
+Just as they were about to move off, to the amazement of the company
+and the few onlookers who, notwithstanding the weather, stood
+around to represent the commonalty, Miss Horn herself, solitary,
+in a long black cloak and somewhat awful bonnet, issued, and made
+her way through the mourners until she stood immediately behind
+the hearse, by the side of Mr Cairns, the parish minister. The next
+moment, Watty Witherspail, who had his station at the further side
+of the hearse, arriving somehow at a knowledge of the apparition,
+came round by the horses' heads, and with a look of positive alarm
+at the glaring infringement of time honoured customs, addressed
+her in half whispered tones expostulatory:
+
+"Ye'll never be thinkin' o' gauin' yersel', mem!" he said.
+
+"What for no, Watty, I wad like to ken," growled Miss Horn from
+the vaulted depths of her bonnet.
+
+"The like was never hard tell o'!" returned Watty, with the dismay
+of an orthodox undertaker, righteously jealous of all innovation.
+
+"It'll be to tell o' hencefurth," rejoined Miss Horn, who in her
+risen anger spoke aloud, caring nothing who heard her. "Daur ye
+preshume, Watty Witherspaill," she went on, "for no rizzon but that
+I ga'e you the job, an' unnertook to pay ye for't--an' that far
+abune its market value,--daur ye preshume, I say, to dictate to
+me what  to du an' what  no to du anent the maitter in han'?
+Think ye I hae been a mither to the puir yoong thing for sae mony
+a year to lat her gang awa' her lane at the last wi' the likes o'
+you for company!"
+
+"Hoot, mem! there's the minister at yer elbuck."
+
+"I tell ye, ye're but a wheen rouch men fowk! There's no a wuman
+amon' ye to haud things dacent, 'cep I gang mysel'.  no beggin'
+the minister's pardon ather. I'll gang. I maun see my puir Grizel
+till her last bed."
+
+"I dread it may be too much for your feelings, Miss Horn," said
+the minister, who being an ambitious young man of lowly origin, and
+very shy of the ridiculous, did not in the least wish her company.
+
+"Feelin's!" exclaimed Miss Horn, in a tone of indignant repudiation;
+" gauin' to du what's richt. I s' gang, and gien ye dinna like
+my company, Mr Cairns, ye can gang hame, an' I s' gang withoot ye.
+Gien she sud happen to be luikin doon, she sanna see me wantin'
+at the last o' her. But I s' mak' no wark aboot it. I s' no putt
+mysel' ower forret."
+
+And. ere the minister could utter another syllable, she had left
+her place to go to the rear. The same instant the procession began
+to move, corpse marshalled, towards the grave; and stepping aside,
+she stood erect, sternly eyeing the irregular ranks of two and
+three and four as they passed her, intending to bring up the rear
+alone. But already there was one in that solitary position: with
+bowed head, Alexander Graham walked last and single. The moment he
+caught sight of Miss Horn, he perceived her design, and, lifting
+his hat, offered his arm. She took it almost eagerly, and together
+they followed in silence, through the gusty wind and monotonous
+drizzle.
+
+The school house was close to the churchyard. An instant hush fell
+upon the scholars when the hearse darkened the windows, lasting
+while the horrible thing slowly turned to enter the iron gates,--
+a deep hush, as if a wave of the eternal silence which rounds all
+our noises had broken across its barriers. The mad laird, who had
+been present all the morning, trembled from head to foot; yet rose
+and went to the door with a look of strange, subdued eagerness. When
+Miss Horn and Mr Graham had passed into the churchyard, he followed.
+
+With the bending of uncovered heads, in a final gaze of leave
+taking, over the coffin at rest in the bottom of the grave, all
+that belonged to the ceremony of burial was fulfilled; but the two
+facts that no one left the churchyard, although the wind blew and
+the rain fell, until the mound of sheltering earth was heaped high
+over the dead, and that the hands of many friends assisted with
+spade and shovel, did much to compensate for the lack of a service.
+
+As soon as this labour was ended, Mr Graham again offered his arm
+to Miss Horn, who had stood in perfect calmness watching the whole
+with her eagle's eyes. But although she accepted his offer, instead
+of moving towards the gate, she kept her position in the attitude
+of a hostess who will follow her friends. They were the last to go
+from the churchyard. When they reached the schoolhouse she would
+have had Mr Graham leave her, but he insisted on seeing her home.
+Contrary to her habit she yielded, and they slowly followed the
+retiring company.
+
+"Safe at last!" half sighed Miss Horn, as they entered the town--
+her sole remark on the way.
+
+Rounding a corner, they came upon Mrs Catanach standing at a
+neighbour's door, gazing out upon nothing, as was her wont at times,
+but talking to some one in the house behind her. Miss Horn turned
+her head aside as she passed. A look of low, malicious, half triumphant
+cunning lightened across the puffy face of the howdy. She cocked
+one bushy eyebrow, setting one eye wide open, drew down the other
+eyebrow, nearly closing the eye under it, and stood looking after
+them until they were out of sight. Then turning her head over her
+shoulder, she burst into a laugh, softly husky with the general
+flabbiness of her corporeal conditions.
+
+"What ails ye, Mistress Catanach?" cried a voice from within.
+
+"Sic a couple 's yon twasum wad mak!" she replied, again bursting
+into gelatinous laughter.
+
+"Wha, than? I canna lea' my milk parritch to come an' luik."
+
+"Ow! jist Meg Horn, the auld kail runt, an' Sanny Graham, the
+stickit minister. I wad like weel to be at the beddin' o' them.
+Eh! the twa heids o' them upon ae bowster!"
+
+And chuckling a low chuckle, Mrs Catanach moved for her own door.
+
+As soon as the churchyard was clear of the funeral train, the mad
+laird peeped from behind a tall stone, gazed cautiously around him,
+and then with slow steps came and stood over the new made grave,
+where the sexton was now laying the turf, "to mak a' snod (trim)
+for the Sawbath."
+
+"Whaur is she gane till?" he murmured to himself--He could generally
+speak better when merely uttering his thoughts without attempt at
+communication.--"I dinna ken whaur I cam frae, an' I dinna ken
+whaur she's gane till; but whan I gang mysel', maybe I'll ken baith.
+--I dinna ken, I dinna ken, I dinna ken whaur I cam frae."
+
+Thus muttering, so lost in the thoughts that originated them
+that he spoke the words mechanically, he left the churchyard and
+returned to the school, where, under the superintendence of Malcolm,
+everything had been going on in the usual Saturday fashion--the
+work of the day which closed the week's labours, being to repeat a
+certain number of questions of the Shorter Catechism (which term,
+alas! included the answers), and next to buttress them with a number
+of suffering caryatids, as it were--texts of Scripture, I mean,
+first petrified and then dragged into the service. Before Mr
+Graham returned, every one had done his part except Sheltie, who,
+excellent at asking questions for himself, had a very poor memory
+for the answers to those of other people, and was in consequence
+often a keepie in. He did not generally heed it much, however, for
+the master was not angry with him on such occasions, and they gave
+him an opportunity of asking in his turn a multitude of questions
+of his own.
+
+When he entered, he found Malcolm reading The Tempest and Sheltie
+sitting in the middle of the waste schoolroom, with his elbows on
+the desk before him, and his head and the Shorter Catechism between
+them; while in the farthest corner sat Mr Stewart, with his eyes
+fixed on the ground, murmuring his answerless questions to himself.
+
+"Come up, Sheltie," said Mr Graham, anxious to let the boy go.
+"Which of the questions did you break down in today?"
+
+"Please, sir, I cudna rest i' my grave till the resurrection,"
+answered Sheltie, with but a dim sense of the humour involved in
+the reply.
+
+"'What benefits do believers receive from Christ at death?'" said
+Mr Graham, putting the question with a smile.
+
+"'The souls of believers are at their death made perfect in holiness,
+and do immediately pass into glory; and their bodies, being still
+united to Christ, do rest in their graves till the resurrection,'"
+replied Sheltie, now with perfect accuracy; whereupon the master,
+fearing the outbreak of a torrent of counter questions, made haste
+to dismiss him.
+
+"That'll do, Sheltie," he said. "Run home to your dinner."
+
+Sheltie shot from the room like a shell from a mortar.
+
+He had barely vanished when Mr Stewart rose and came slowly from
+his corner, his legs appearing to tremble under the weight of his
+hump, which moved fitfully up and down in his futile attempts to
+utter the word resurrection. As he advanced, he kept heaving one
+shoulder forward, as if he would fain bring his huge burden to
+the front, and hold it out in mute appeal to his instructor; but
+before reaching him he suddenly stopped, lay down on the floor on
+his back, and commenced rolling from side to side, with moans and
+complaints. Mr Graham interpreted the action into the question--
+How was such a body as his to rest in its grave till the resurrection
+--perched thus on its own back in the coffin? All the answer he
+could think of was to lay hold of his hand, lift him, and point
+upwards. The poor fellow shook his head, glanced over his shoulder
+at his hump, and murmured "Heavy, heavy!" seeming to imply that it
+would be hard for him to rise and ascend at the last day.
+
+He had doubtless a dim notion that all his trouble had to do with
+his hump.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI: THE OLD CHURCH
+
+
+The next day, the day of the Resurrection, rose glorious from its
+sepulchre of sea fog and drizzle. It had poured all night long,
+but at sunrise the clouds had broken and scattered, and the air was
+the purer for the cleansing rain, while the earth shone with that
+peculiar lustre which follows the weeping which has endured its
+appointed night. The larks were at it again, singing as if their
+hearts would break for joy as they hovered in brooding exultation
+over the song of the future; for their nests beneath hoarded a wealth
+of larks for summers to come. Especially about the old church--
+half buried in the ancient trees of Lossie House, the birds that
+day were jubilant; their throats seemed too narrow to let out the
+joyful air that filled all their hollow bones and quills: they sang
+as if they must sing, or choke with too much gladness. Beyond the
+short spire and its shining cock, rose the balls and stars and
+arrowy vanes of the House, glittering in gold and sunshine.
+
+The inward hush of the Resurrection, broken only by the prophetic
+birds, the poets of the groaning and travailing creation, held time
+and space as in a trance; and the centre from which radiated both
+the hush and the carolling expectation seemed to Alexander Graham
+to be the churchyard in which he was now walking in the cool of the
+morning. It was more carefully kept than most Scottish churchyards,
+and yet was not too trim. Nature had a word in the affair--
+was allowed her part of mourning, in long grass and moss and the
+crumbling away of stone. The wholesomeness of decay, which both
+in nature and humanity is but the miry road back to life, was not
+unrecognized here; there was nothing of the hideous attempt to hide
+death in the garments of life. The master walked about gently, now
+stopping to read some well known inscription and ponder for a moment
+over the words; and now wandering across the stoneless mounds,
+content to be forgotten by all but those who loved the departed. At
+length he seated himself on a slab by the side of the mound that
+rose but yesterday: it was sculptured with symbols of decay--
+needless surely where the originals lay about the mouth of every
+newly opened grave, and as surely ill befitting the precincts of
+a church whose indwelling gospel is of life victorious over death!
+
+"What are these stones," he said to himself, "but monuments to
+oblivion? They are not memorials of the dead, but memorials of the
+forgetfulness of the living. How vain it is to send a poor forsaken
+name, like the title page of a lost book, down the careless stream
+of time! Let me serve my generation, and let God remember me!"
+
+The morning wore on; the sun rose higher and higher. He drew from
+his pocket the Nosce Teipsum. of Sir John Davies, and was still
+reading, in quiet enjoyment of the fine logic of the lawyer poet,
+when he heard the church key, in the trembling hand of Jonathan Auld,
+the sexton, jar feebly battling with the reluctant lock. Soon the
+people began to gather, mostly in groups and couples. At length
+came solitary Miss Horn, whom the neighbours, from respect to her
+sorrow, had left to walk alone. But Mr Graham went to meet her,
+and accompanied her into the church.
+
+It was a cruciform building, as old as the vanished monastery, and
+the burial place of generations of noble blood; the dust of royalty
+even lay under its floor. A knight of stone reclined cross legged
+in a niche with an arched Norman canopy in one of the walls, the
+rest of which was nearly encased in large tablets of white marble,
+for at his foot lay the ashes of barons and earls whose title was
+extinct, and whose lands had been inherited by the family of Lossie.
+Inside as well as outside of the church the ground had risen with
+the dust of generations, so that the walls were low; and heavy
+galleries having been erected in parts, the place was filled with
+shadowy recesses and haunted with glooms. From a window in the
+square pew where he sat, so small and low that he had to bend his
+head to look out of it, the schoolmaster could see a rivulet of
+sunshine, streaming through between two upright gravestones, and
+glorifying the long grass of a neglected mound that lay close to
+the wall under the wintry drip from the eaves: when he raised his
+head, the church looked very dark. The best way there to preach
+the Resurrection, he thought, would be to contrast the sepulchral
+gloom of the church, its dreary psalms and drearier sermons, with
+the sunlight on the graves, the lark filled sky, and the wind blowing
+where it listed. But although the minister was a young man of the
+commonest order, educated to the church that he might eat bread,
+hence a mere willing slave to the beck of his lord and master, the
+patron, and but a parrot in the pulpit, the schoolmaster not only
+endeavoured to pour his feelings and desires into the mould of his
+prayers, but listened to the sermon with a countenance that revealed
+no distaste for the weak and unsavoury broth ladled out him to
+nourish his soul withal. When however the service--though whose
+purposes the affair could be supposed to serve except those of Mr
+Cairns himself, would have been a curious question--was over,
+he did breathe a sigh of relief; and when he stepped out into the
+sun and wind which had been shining and blowing all the time of
+the dreary ceremony, he wondered whether the larks might not have
+had the best of it in the God praising that had been going on for
+two slow paced hours. Yet, having been so long used to the sort of
+thing, he did not mind it half so much as his friend Malcolm, who
+found the Sunday observances an unspeakable weariness to both flesh
+and spirit.
+
+On the present occasion, however, Malcolm did not find the said
+observances dreary, for he observed nothing but the vision which
+radiated from the dusk of the small gallery forming Lossie pew,
+directly opposite the Norman canopy and stone crusader. Unconventional,
+careless girl as Lady Florimel had hitherto shown herself to him,
+he saw her sit that morning like the proudest of her race, alone,
+and, to all appearance, unaware of a single other person's being
+in the church besides herself. She manifested no interest in what
+was going on, nor indeed felt any--how could she? never parted
+her lips to sing; sat during the prayer; and throughout the
+sermon seemed to Malcolm not once to move her eyes from the carved
+crusader. When all was over, she still sat motionless--sat until
+the last old woman had hobbled out. Then she rose, walked slowly from
+the gloom of the church, flashed into the glow of the churchyard,
+gleamed across it to a private door in the wall, which a servant
+held for her, and vanished. If a moment after, the notes of a merry
+song invaded the ears of those who yet lingered, who could dare
+suspect that proudly sedate damsel thus suddenly breaking the ice
+of her public behaviour?
+
+For a mere school girl she had certainly done the lady's part well.
+What she wore I do not exactly know; nor would it perhaps be well
+to describe what might seem grotesque to such prejudiced readers
+as have no judgment beyond the fashions of the day. But I will not
+let pass the opportunity of reminding them how sadly old fashioned
+we of the present hour also look in the eyes of those equally
+infallible judges who have been in dread procession towards us ever
+since we began to be--our posterity--judges who perhaps will
+doubt with a smile whether we even knew what love was, or ever had
+a dream of the grandeur they are on the point of grasping. But at
+least bethink yourselves, dear posterity: we have not ceased because
+you have begun.
+
+Out of the church the blind Duncan strode with long, confident
+strides. He had no staff to aid him, for he never carried one when
+in his best clothes; but he leaned proudly on Malcolm's arm, if
+one who walked so erect could be said to lean. He had adorned his
+bonnet the autumn before with a sprig of the large purple heather,
+but every bell had fallen from it, leaving only the naked spray,
+pitiful analogue of the whole withered exterior of which it formed
+part. His sporran, however, hid the stained front of his kilt,
+and his Sunday coat had been new within ten years--the gift of
+certain ladies of Portlossie, some of whom, to whose lowland eyes
+the kilt was obnoxious, would have added a pair of trowsers, had
+not Miss Horn stoutly opposed them, confident that Duncan would
+regard the present as an insult. And she was right; for rather than
+wear anything instead of the philibeg, Duncan would have plaited
+himself one with his own blind fingers out of an old sack. Indeed,
+although the trews were never at any time unknown in the Highlands,
+Duncan had always regarded them as effeminate, and especially in
+his lowland exile would have looked upon the wearing of them as a
+disgrace to his highland birth.
+
+"Tat wass a fery coot sairmon today, Malcolm," he said, as they
+stepped from the churchyard upon the road.
+
+Malcolm, knowing well whither conversation on the subject would
+lead, made no reply. His grandfather, finding him silent, iterated
+his remark, with the addition--"Put how could it pe a paad one,
+you'll pe thinking, my poy, when he'd pe hafing such a text to keep
+him straight."
+
+Malcolm continued silent, for a good many people were within hearing,
+whom he did not wish to see amused with the remarks certain to follow
+any he could make. But Mr Graham, who happened to be walking near
+the old man on the other side, out of pure politeness made a partial
+response.
+
+"Yes, Mr MacPhail," he said, "it was a grand text."
+
+"Yes, and it wass'll pe a cran' sairmon," persisted Duncan.
+"'Fenchence is mine--I will repay.' Ta Lord loves fenchence.
+It's a fine thing, fenchence. To make ta wicked know tat tey'll pe
+peing put men! Yes; ta Lord will slay ta wicked. Ta Lord will gif
+ta honest man fenchence upon his enemies. It wass a cran' sairmon!"
+
+"Don't you think vengeance a very dreadful thing, Mr MacPhail?"
+said the schoolmaster.
+
+"Yes, for ta von tat'll pe in ta wrong--I wish ta fenchence was
+mine!" he added with a loud sigh.
+
+"But the Lord doesn't think any of us fit to be trusted with it,
+and so keeps it to himself, you see."
+
+"Yes, and tat'll pe pecause it 'll pe too coot to be gifing to
+another. And some people would be waik of heart, and be letting
+teir enemies co."
+
+"I suspect it 's for the opposite reason, Mr MacPhail:--we would
+go much too far, making no allowances, causing the innocent to
+suffer along with the guilty, neither giving fair play nor avoiding
+cruelty,--and indeed"
+
+"No fear!" interrupted Duncan eagerly,--"no fear, when ta wrong
+wass as larch as Morven!"
+
+In the sermon there had not been one word as to St Paul's design
+in quoting the text. It had been but a theatrical setting forth
+of the vengeance of God upon sin, illustrated with several common
+tales of the discovery of murder by strange means--a sermon
+after Duncan's own heart; and nothing but the way in which he now
+snuffed the wind with head thrown back and nostrils dilated, could
+have given an adequate idea of how much he enjoyed the recollection
+of it.
+
+Mr Graham had for many years believed that he must have some
+personal wrongs to brood over,--wrongs, probably, to which were
+to be attributed his loneliness and exile; but of such Duncan had
+never spoken, uttering no maledictions except against the real or
+imagined foes of his family.*
+
+*[What added to the likelihood of Mr Graham's conjecture was the
+fact, well enough known to him, though to few lowlanders besides,
+that revenge is not a characteristic of the Gael. Whatever instances
+of it may have appeared, and however strikingly they may have been
+worked up in fiction, such belong to the individual and not to
+the race. A remarkable proof of this occurs in the history of the
+family of Glenco itself. What remained of it after the massacre in
+1689, rose in 1745, and joined the forces of Prince Charles Edward.
+Arriving in the neighbourhood of the residence of Lord Stair, whose
+grandfather had been one of the chief instigators of the massacre,
+the prince took special precautions lest the people of Glenco should
+wreak inherited vengeance on the earl. But they were so indignant
+at being supposed capable of visiting on the innocent the guilt
+of their ancestors, that it was with much difficulty they were
+prevented from forsaking the standard of the prince, and returning
+at once to their homes. Perhaps a yet stronger proof is the fact,
+fully asserted by one Gaelic scholar at least, that their literature
+contains nothing to foster feelings of revenge.]
+
+The master placed so little value on any possible results of
+mere argument, and had indeed so little faith in any words except
+such as came hot from the heart, that he said no more, but, with
+an invitation to Malcolm to visit him in the evening, wished them
+good day, and turned in at his own door.
+
+The two went slowly on towards the sea town. The road was speckled
+with home goers, single and in groups, holding a quiet Sunday pace
+to their dinners. Suddenly Duncan grasped Malcolm's arm with the
+energy of perturbation, almost of fright, and said in a loud whisper:
+
+"Tere'll be something efil not far from her, Malcolm, my son! Look
+apout, look apout, and take care how you'll pe leading her."
+
+Malcolm looked about, and replied, pressing Duncan's arm, and
+speaking in a low voice, far less audible than his whisper,
+
+"There's naebody near, daddy--naebody but the howdie wife."
+
+"What howdie wife do you mean, Malcolm?"
+
+"Hoot! Mistress Catanach, ye ken. Dinna lat her hear ye."
+
+"I had a feeshion, Malcolm--one moment, and no more; ta darkness
+closed arount it: I saw a ped, Malcolm, and--"
+
+"Wheesht, wheesht; daddy!" pleaded Malcolm importunately. "She hears
+ilka word ye're sayin'. She's awfu' gleg, and she's as poozhonous
+as an edder. Haud yer tongue, daddy; for guid sake haud yer tongue."
+
+The old man yielded, grasping Malcolm's arm, and quickening his
+pace, though his breath came hard, as through the gathering folds
+of asthma. Mrs. Catanach also quickened her pace, and came gliding
+along the grass by the side of the road, noiseless as the adder
+to which Malcolm had likened her, and going much faster than she
+seemed. Her great round body looked a persistent type of her calling,
+and her arms seemed to rest in front of her as upon a ledge. In one
+hand she carried a small bible, round which was folded her pocket
+handkerchief, and in the other a bunch of southernwood and rosemary.
+She wore a black silk gown, a white shawl, and a great straw bonnet
+with yellow ribbons in huge bows, and looked the very pattern of
+Sunday respectability; but her black eyebrows gloomed ominous, and
+an evil smile shadowed about the corners of her mouth as she passed
+without turning her head or taking the least notice of them. Duncan
+shuddered, and breathed yet harder, but seemed to recover as she
+increased the distance between them. They walked the rest of the
+way in silence, however; and even after they reached home, Duncan
+made no allusion to his late discomposure.
+
+"What was't ye thocht ye saw, as we cam frae the kirk, daddy?" asked
+Malcolm when they were seated at their dinner of broiled mackerel
+and boiled potatoes.
+
+"In other times she'll pe hafing such feeshions often, Malcolm,
+my son," he returned, avoiding an answer. "Like other pards of her
+race she would pe seeing--in the speerit, where old Tuncan can
+see. And she'll pe telling you, Malcolm--peware of tat voman;
+for ta voman was thinking pad thoughts; and tat will pe what make
+her shutter and shake, my son, as she'll pe coing py."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII: THE CHURCHYARD
+
+
+On Sundays, Malcolm was always more or less annoyed by the obtrusive
+presence of his arms and legs, accompanied by a vague feeling that,
+at any moment, and no warning given, they might, with some insane
+and irrepressible flourish, break the Sabbath on their own account,
+and degrade him in the eyes of his fellow townsmen, who seemed all
+silently watching how he bore the restraints of the holy day. It
+must be conceded, however, that the discomfort had quite as much
+to do with his Sunday clothes as with the Sabbath day, and that
+it interfered but little with an altogether peculiar calm which
+appeared to him to belong in its own right to the Sunday, whether
+its light flowed in the sunny cataracts of June, or oozed through
+the spongy clouds of November. As he walked again to the Alton,
+or Old Town in the evening, the filmy floats of white in the lofty
+blue, the droop of the long dark grass by the side of the short
+brown corn, the shadows pointing like all lengthening shadows
+towards the quarter of hope, the yellow glory filling the air and
+paling the green below, the unseen larks hanging aloft--like
+air pitcher plants that overflowed in song--like electric jars
+emptying themselves of the sweet thunder of bliss in the flashing
+of wings and the trembling of melodious throats; these were indeed
+of the summer but the cup of rest had been poured out upon them;
+the Sabbath brooded like an embodied peace over the earth, and
+under its wings they grew sevenfold peaceful--with a peace that
+might be felt, like the hand of a mother pressed upon the half
+sleeping child. The rusted iron cross on the eastern gable of the
+old church stood glowing lustreless in the westering sun; while the
+gilded vane, whose business was the wind, creaked radiantly this
+way and that, in the flaws from the region of the sunset: its shadow
+flickered soft on the new grave, where the grass of the wounded
+sod was drooping. Again seated on a neighbour stone, Malcolm found
+his friend.
+
+"See," said the schoolmaster as the fisherman sat down beside him,
+"how the shadow from one grave stretches like an arm to embrace
+another! In this light the churchyard seems the very birthplace of
+shadows: see them flowing out of the tombs as from fountains, to
+overflow the world! Does the morning or the evening light suit such
+a place best, Malcolm?"
+
+The pupil thought for a while.
+
+"The evenin' licht, sir," he answered at length; "for ye see the
+sun's deem' like, an' deith's like a fa'in asleep, an' the grave's
+the bed, an' the sod's the bedclaes, an' there's a lang nicht to
+the fore."
+
+"Are ye sure o' that, Malcolm?"
+
+"It's the wye folk thinks an' says aboot it, sir."
+
+"Or maybe doesna think, an' only says?"
+
+"Maybe, sir; I dinna ken."
+
+"Come here, Malcolm," said Mr Graham, and took him by the arm, and
+led him towards the east end of the church, where a few tombstones
+were crowded against the wall, as if they would press close to a
+place they might not enter.
+
+"Read that," he said, pointing to a flat stone, where every hollow
+letter was shown in high relief by the growth in it of a lovely
+moss. The rest of the stone was rich in gray and green and brown
+lichens, but only in the letters grew the bright moss; the inscription
+stood as it were in the hand of nature herself--"He is not here;
+he is risen."
+
+While Malcolm gazed, trying to think what his master would have
+him think, the latter resumed.
+
+"If he is risen--if the sun is up, Malcolm--then the morning and
+not the evening is the season for the place of tombs; the morning
+when the shadows are shortening and separating, not the evening
+when they are growing all into one. I used to love the churchyard
+best in the evening, when the past was more to me than the future;
+now I visit it almost every bright summer morning, and only
+occasionally at night."
+
+"But, sir, isna deith a dreidfu' thing?" said Malcolm.
+
+"That depends on whether a man regards it as his fate, or as the
+will of a perfect God. Its obscurity is its dread; but if God be
+light, then death itself must be full of splendour--a splendour
+probably too keen for our eyes to receive."
+
+"But there's the deein' itsel': isna that fearsome? It's that I
+wad be fleyed at."
+
+"I don't see why it should be. It's the want of a God that makes
+it dreadful, and you will be greatly to blame, Malcolm, if you
+haven't found your God by the time you have to die."
+
+They were startled by a gruff voice near them. The speaker was.
+hidden by a corner of the church.
+
+"Ay, she's weel happit (covered)," it said. "But a grave never
+luiks richt wantin' a stane, an' her auld cousin wad hear o' nane
+bein' laid ower her. I said it micht be set up at her heid, whaur
+she wad never fin' the weicht o' 't; but na, na! nane o' 't for
+her! She's ane 'at maun tak her ain gait, say the ither thing wha
+likes."
+
+It was Wattie Witherspail who spoke--a thin shaving of a man,
+with a deep, harsh, indeed startling voice.
+
+"An' what ailed her at a stane?" returned the voice of Jonathan
+Auldbuird, the sexton. "--Nae doobt it wad be the expense?"
+
+"Amna I tellin' ye what it was? Deil a bit o' the expense cam intil
+the calcalation! The auld maiden's nane sae close as fowk 'at disna
+ken her wad mak her oot. I ken her weel. She wadna hae a stane
+laid upon her as gien she wanted to hand her doon, puir thing! She
+said, says she, 'The yerd's eneuch upo' the tap o' her, wantin'
+that!'"
+
+"It micht be some sair, she wad be thinkin' doobtless, for sic a
+waik worn cratur to lift whan the trump was blawn," said the sexton,
+with the feeble laugh of one who doubts the reception of his wit.
+
+"Weel, I div whiles think," responded Wattie,--but it was impossible
+from his tone to tell whether or not he spoke in earnest,--"'at
+maybe my boxies is a wheen ower weel made for the use they're
+pitten till. They sudna be that ill to rive--gien a' be true 'at
+the minister says. Ye see, we dinna ken whan that day may come,
+an' there may na be time for the wat an' the worm to ca (drive)
+the boords apairt."
+
+"Hoots, man! it 's no your lang nails nor yet yer heidit screws 'll
+haud doon the redeemt, gien the jeedgement war the morn's mornin',"
+said the sexton; "an' for the lave, they wad be glaid eneuch to
+bide whaur they are; but they'll a' be howkit oot,--fear na ye
+that."
+
+"The Lord grant a blessed uprisin' to you an' me, Jonathan, at that
+day!" said Wattie, in the tone of one who felt himself uttering a
+more than ordinarily religious sentiment and on the word followed
+the sound of their retreating footsteps.
+
+"How closely together may come the solemn and the grotesque! the
+ludicrous and the majestic!" said the schoolmaster. "Here, to us
+lingering in awe about the doors beyond which lie the gulfs of the
+unknown--to our very side come the wright and the grave digger
+with their talk of the strength of coffins and the judgment of the
+living God!"
+
+"I hae whiles thoucht mysel', sir," said Malcolm, "it was gey strange
+like to hae a wuman o' the mak o' Mistress Catanach sittin' at the
+receipt o' bairns, like the gatekeeper o' the ither wan', wi' the
+hasp o' 't in her han': it doesna promise ower weel for them 'at
+she lats in. An' noo ye hae pitten't intil my heid that there's
+Wattie Witherspail an' Jonathan Auldbuird for the porters to open
+an' lat a' that's left o' 's oot again! Think o' sic like haein'
+sic a han' in sic solemn maitters!"
+
+"Indeed some of us have strange porters," said Mr Graham, with a
+smile, "both to open to us and to close behind us! yet even in them
+lies the human nature, which, itself the embodiment of the unknown,
+wanders out through the gates of mystery, to wander back, it may
+be, in a manner not altogether unlike that by which it came."
+
+In contemplative moods, the schoolmaster spoke in a calm and
+loftily sustained style of book English--quite another language
+from that he used when he sought to rouse the consciences of his
+pupils, and strangely contrasted with that in which Malcolm kept
+up his side of the dialogue.
+
+"I houp, sir," said the latter, "it'll be nae sort o' a celestial
+Mistress Catanach 'at 'll be waiting for me o' the ither side; nor
+yet for my puir daddy, wha cud ill bide bein' wamled aboot upo'
+her knee."
+
+Mr Graham laughed outright.
+
+"If there be one to act the nurse," he answered, "I presume there
+will be one to take the mother's part too."
+
+"But speakin' o' the grave, sir," pursued Malcolm, "I wiss ye cud
+drop a word 'at micht be o' some comfort to my daddy. It's plain to
+me, frae words he lats fa' noo an' than, that, instead o' lea'in'
+the warl' ahint him whan he dees, he thinks to lie smorin' an'
+smocherin' i' the mools, clammy an' weet, but a' there, an' trimlin'
+at the thocht o' the suddent awfu' roar an' din o' the brazen
+trumpet o' the archangel. I wiss ye wad luik in an' say something
+till him some nicht. It's nae guid mentionin' 't to the minister;
+he wad only gie a lauch an' gang awa'. An' gien ye cud jist slide
+in a word aboot forgiein' his enemies, sir! I made licht o' the
+maitter to Mistress Courthope, 'cause she only maks him waur. She
+does weel wi' what the minister pits intill her, but she has little
+o' her ain to mix't up wi', an' sae has but sma' weicht wi' the
+likes o' my gran'father. Only ye winna lat him think ye called on
+purpose."
+
+They walked about the churchyard until the sun went down in what Mr
+Graham called the grave of his endless resurrection--the clouds
+on the one side bearing all the pomp of his funeral, the clouds on
+the other all the glory of his uprising; and when now the twilight
+trembled filmy on the borders of the dark, the master once more
+seated himself beside the new grave, and motioned to Malcolm to
+take his place beside him: there they talked and dreamed together
+of the life to come, with many wanderings and returns; and little
+as the boy knew of the ocean depths of sorrowful experience in the
+bosom of his companion whence floated up the breaking bubbles of
+rainbow hued thought, his words fell upon his heart--not to be
+provender for the birds of flitting fancy and airy speculation,
+but the seed--it might be decades ere it ripened--of a coming
+harvest of hope. At length the master rose and said, "Malcolm,
+going in: I should like you to stay here half an hour alone, and
+then go straight home to bed."
+
+For the master believed in solitude and silence. Say rather, he
+believed in God. What the youth might think, feel, or judge, he
+could not tell; but he believed that when the Human is still, the
+Divine speaks to it, because it is its own.
+
+Malcolm consented willingly. The darkness had deepened, the graves
+all but vanished; an old setting moon appeared, boatlike over
+a great cloudy chasm, into which it slowly sank; blocks of cloud,
+with stars between, possessed the sky; all nature seemed thinking
+about death; a listless wind began to blow, and Malcolm began to
+feel as if he were awake too long, and ought to be asleep--as
+if he were out in a dream--a dead man that had risen too soon or
+lingered too late--so lonely, so forsaken! The wind, soft as it
+was, seemed to blow through his very soul. Yet something held him,
+and his half hour was long over when he left the churchyard.
+
+As he walked home, the words of a German poem, a version of which
+Mr Graham had often repeated to him, and once more that same night,
+kept ringing in his heart:
+
+Uplifted is the stone,
+And all mankind arisen!
+We men remain thine own,
+And vanished is our prison!
+What bitterest grief can stay
+Before thy golden cup,
+When earth and life give way,
+And with our Lord we sup.
+
+To the marriage Death doth call.
+The maidens are not slack;
+The lamps are burning all--
+Of oil there is no lack.
+Afar I hear the walking
+Of thy great marriage throng
+And hark! the stars are talking
+With human tone and tongue!
+
+Courage! for life is hasting
+To endless life away;
+The inner fire, unwasting,
+Transfigures our dull clay
+See the stars melting, sinking,
+In life wine, golden bright
+We, of the splendour drinking,
+Shall grow to stars of light.
+
+Lost, lost are all our losses;
+Love set for ever free;
+The full life heaves and tosses
+Like an eternal sea!
+One endless living story!
+One poem spread abroad!
+And the sun of all our glory
+Is the countenance of God.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII: THE MARQUIS OF LOSSIE
+
+
+The next morning rose as lovely as if the mantle of the departing
+Resurrection day had fallen upon it. Malcolm rose with it, hastened
+to his boat, and pulled out into the bay for an hour or two's
+fishing. Nearly opposite the great conglomerate rock at the western
+end of the dune, called the Bored Craig (Perforated Crag) because
+of a large hole that went right through it, he began to draw in his
+line. Glancing shoreward as he leaned over the gunwale, he spied
+at the foot .of the rock, near the opening, a figure in white,
+seated, with bowed head. It was of course the mysterious lady,
+whom he had twice before seen thereabout at this unlikely if not
+untimely hour; but with yesterday fresh in his mind, how could
+he fail to see in her an angel of the resurrection waiting at the
+sepulchre to tell the glad news that the Lord was risen?
+
+Many were the glances he cast shoreward as he rebaited his line,
+and, having thrown it again into the water, sat waiting until it
+should be time to fire the swivel. Still the lady sat on, in her
+whiteness a creature of the dawn, without even lifting her head.
+At length, having added a few more fishes to the little heap in
+the bottom of his boat, and finding his watch bear witness that
+the hour was at hand, he seated himself on his thwart, and rowed
+lustily to the shore, his bosom filled with the hope of yet another
+sight of the lovely face, and another hearing of the sweet English
+voice and speech. But the very first time he turned his head to
+look, he saw but the sloping foot of the rock sink bare into the
+shore. No white robed angel sat at the gate of the resurrection; no
+moving thing was visible on the far vacant sands. When he reached
+the top of the dune, there was no living creature beyond but a few
+sheep feeding on the thin grass. He fired the gun, rowed back to
+the Seaton, ate his breakfast, and set out to carry the best of
+his fish to the House.
+
+The moment he turned the corner of her street, he saw Mrs Catanach
+standing on her threshold with her arms akimbo; although she was
+always tidy, and her house spotlessly trim, she yet seemed forever
+about the door, on the outlook at least, if not on the watch.
+
+"What hae ye in yer bit basket the day, Ma'colm?" she said, with
+a peculiar smile, which was not sweet enough to restore vanished
+confidence.
+
+"Naething guid for dogs," answered Malcolm, and was walking past.
+
+But she made a step forward, and, with a laugh meant to indicate
+friendly amusement, said,
+
+"Let's see what's intill't, ony gait (anyhow).--The doggie's awa
+on 's traivels the day."
+
+"'Deed, Mistress Catanach," persisted Malcolm, "I canna say I like
+to hae my ain fish flung i' my face, nor yet to see ill-faured
+tykes rin awa' wi' 't afore my verra een."
+
+After the warning given him by Miss Horn, and the strange influence
+her presence had had on his grandfather, Malcolm preferred keeping
+up a negative quarrel with the woman.
+
+"Dinna ca' ill names," she returned: "my dog wad tak it waur to be
+ca'd an ill faured tyke, nor to hae fish flung in his face.  Lat's
+see what's i' yer basket, I say."
+
+As she spoke, she laid her hand on the basket, but Malcolm drew
+back, and turned away towards the gate.
+
+"Lord safe us!" she cried, with a yelling laugh; "ye're no feared
+at an auld wife like me?"
+
+"I dinna ken; maybe ay an' maybe no--I wadna say. But I dinna
+want to hae onything to du wi' ye, mem."
+
+"Ma'colm MacPhail," said Mrs Catanach, lowering her voice to
+a hoarse whisper, while every trace of laughter vanished from her
+countenance, "ye hae had mair to du wi' me nor ye ken, an' aiblins
+ye'll hae mair yet nor ye can weel help. Sae caw canny, my man."
+
+"Ye may hae the layin' o' me oot," said Malcolm, "but it sanna be
+wi' my wull; an' gien I hae ony life left i' me, I s' gie ye a fleg
+(fright)."
+
+"Ye may get a war yersel': I hae frichtit the deid afore noo. Sae
+gang yer wa's to Mistress Coorthoup, wi' a flech (flea) i' yer lug
+(ear). I wuss ye luck--sic luck as I wad wuss ye I--"
+
+Her last words sounded so like a curse, that to overcome a cold
+creep, Malcolm had to force a laugh.
+
+The cook at the House bought all his fish, for they had had none
+for the last few days, because of the storm; and he was turning
+to go home by the river side, when he heard a tap on a window, and
+saw Mrs Courthope beckoning him to another door.
+
+"His lordship desired me to send you to him, Malcolm, the next time
+you called," she said.
+
+"Weel, mem, here I am," answered the youth.
+
+"You'll find him in the flower garden," she said. "He's up early
+today for a wonder."
+
+He left his basket at the top of the stairs that led down the rock
+to the level of the burn, and walked up the valley of the stream.
+
+The garden was a curious old fashioned place, with high hedges, and
+close alleys of trees, where two might have wandered long without
+meeting, and it was some time before he found any hint of the
+presence of the marquis. At length, however, he heard voices, and
+following the sound, walked along one of the alleys till he came
+to a little arbour, where he discovered the marquis seated, and,
+to his surprise, the white robed lady of the sands beside him. A
+great deer hound at his master's feet was bristling his mane, and
+baring his eye teeth with a growl, but the girl had a hold of his
+collar.
+
+"Who are you?" asked the marquis rather gruffly, as if he had never
+seen him before.
+
+"I beg yer lordship's pardon," said Malcolm, "but they telled me
+yer lordship wantit to see me, and sent me to the flooer garden.
+Will I gang, or will I bide?"
+
+The marquis looked at him for a moment, frowningly, and made
+no reply. But the frown gradually relaxed before Malcolm's modest
+but unflinching gaze, and the shadow of a smile slowly usurped its
+place. He still kept silent, however.
+
+"Am I to gang or bide, my lord?" repeated Malcolm.
+
+"Can't you wait for an answer?"
+
+"As lang's yer lordship likes--Will I gang an' walk aboot, mem
+--my leddy, till his lordship's made up his min'? Wad that please
+him, duv ye think?" he said, in the tone of one who seeks advice.
+
+But the girl only smiled, and the marquis said, "Go to the devil."
+
+"I maun luik to yer lordship for the necessar' directions," rejoined
+Malcolm.
+
+"Your tongue's long enough to inquire as you go," said the marquis.
+
+A reply in the same strain rushed to Malcolm's lips, but he checked
+himself in time, and stood silent, with his bonnet in his band,
+fronting the two. The marquis sat gazing as if he had nothing to say
+to him, but after a few moments the lady spoke--not to Malcolm,
+however.
+
+"Is there any danger in boating here, papa?" she said.
+
+"Not more, I daresay, than there ought to be," replied the marquis
+listlessly. "Why do you ask?"
+
+"Because I should so like a row! I want to see how the shore looks
+to the mermaids."
+
+"Well, I will take you some day, if we can find a proper boat."
+
+"Is yours a proper boat?" she asked, turning to Malcolm with a
+sparkle of fun in her eyes.
+
+"That depen's on my lord's definition o' proper."
+
+"Definition!" repeated the marquis.
+
+"Is 't ower lang a word, my lord?" asked Malcolm.
+
+The marquis only smiled.
+
+
+"I ken what ye mean. It's a strange word in a fisher lad's mou',
+ye think. But what for should na a fisher lad hae a smatterin' o'
+loagic, my lord? For Greek or Laitin there's but sma' opportunity
+o' exerceese in oor pairts; but for loagic, a fisher body may aye
+haud his ban' in i' that. He can aye be tryin' 't upo' 's wife, or
+'s guid mother, or upo' 's boat, or upo' the fish whan they winna
+tak. Loagic wad save a heap o' cursin' an' ill words--amo' the
+fisher fowk, I mean, my lord."
+
+"Have you been to college?"
+
+"Na, my lord--the mair's the pity! But I've been to the school
+sin' ever I can min'."
+
+"Do they teach logic there?"
+
+"A kin' o' 't. Mr Graham sets us to try oor ban' whiles--jist to
+mak 's a bit gleg (quick and keen), ye ken."
+
+"You don't mean you go to school still?"
+
+"I dinna gang reg'lar; but I gang as aften as Mr Graham wants me
+to help him, an' I aye gether something."
+
+"So it 's schoolmaster you are as well as fisherman? Two strings to
+your bow!--Who pays you for teaching?"
+
+"Ow! naebody. Wha wad pay me for that?"
+
+"Why, the schoolmaster."
+
+"Na, but that wad be an affront, my lord!"
+
+"How can you afford the time for nothing?"
+
+"The time comes to little, compairt wi' what Mr Graham gies me i'
+the lang forenichts--i' the winter time, ye ken, my lord, whan
+the sea's whiles ower contumahcious to be meddlet muckle wi'."
+
+"But you have to support your grandfather."
+
+"My gran'father wad be ill pleased to hear ye say 't, my lord.
+He's terrible independent; an' what wi' his pipes, an' his lamps,
+an' his shop, he could keep's baith. It's no muckle the likes o'
+us wants. He winna lat me gang far to the fishin', so that I hae
+the mair time to read an' gang to Mr Graham."
+
+As the youth spoke, the marquis eyed him with apparently growing
+interest.
+
+"But you haven't told me whether your boat is a proper one," said
+the lady.
+
+"Proper eneuch, mem, for what's required o' her. She taks guid
+fish."
+
+"But is it a proper boat for me to have a row in?"
+
+"No wi' that goon on, mem, as I telled ye afore."
+
+"The water won't get in, will it?"
+
+"No more than's easy gotten oot again."
+
+"Do you ever put up a sail?"
+
+"Whiles--a wee bit o' a lug sail."
+
+
+
+"Nonsense, Flow!" said the marquis. "I'll see about it."
+
+
+Then turning to Malcolm,--"You may go," he said. "When I want
+you I will send for you."
+
+Malcolm thought with himself that he had sent for him this time
+before he wanted him; but he made his bow, and departed--not
+without disappointment, for he had expected the marquis to say
+something about his grandfather going to the House with his pipes,
+a request he would fain have carried to the old man to gladden his
+heart withal.
+
+Lord Lossie had been one of the boon companions of the Prince of
+Wales--considerably higher in type, it is true, yet low enough
+to accept usage for law, and measure his obligation by the custom
+of his peers: duty merely amounted to what was expected of him, and
+honour, the flitting shadow of the garment of truth, was his sole
+divinity. Still he had a heart, and it would speak,--so long at
+least, as the object affecting it was present. But, alas! it had no
+memory. Like the unjust judge, he might redress a wrong that cried
+to him, but out of sight and hearing it had for him no existence.
+To a man he would not have told a deliberate lie--except, indeed,
+a woman was in the case; but to women he had lied enough to sink the
+whole ship of fools. Nevertheless, had the accusing angel himself
+called him a liar, he would have instantly offered him his choice
+of weapons.
+
+There was in him by nature, however, a certain generosity which
+all the vice he had shared in had not quenched. Overbearing, he
+was not yet too overbearing to appreciate a manly carriage, and had
+been pleased with what some would have considered the boorishness
+of Malcolm's behaviour--such not perceiving that it had the
+same source as the true aristocratic bearing--namely, a certain
+unselfish confidence which is the mother of dignity.
+
+He had, of course, been a spendthrift--and so much the better,
+being otherwise what he was; for a cautious and frugal voluptuary
+is about the lowest style of man. Hence he had never been out of
+difficulties, and when, a year or so agone, he succeeded to his
+brother's marquisate, he was, notwithstanding his enlarged income,
+far too much involved to hope any immediate rescue from them. His
+new property, however, would afford him a refuge from troublesome
+creditors; there he might also avoid expenditure for a season, and
+perhaps rally the forces of a dissolute life; the place was not
+new to him, having, some twenty years before, spent nearly twelve
+months there, of which time the recollections were not altogether
+unpleasant: weighing all these things he had made up his mind, and
+here he was at Lossie House.
+
+The marquis was about fifty years of age, more worn than his years
+would account for, yet younger than his years in expression, for
+his conscience had never bitten him very deep. He was middle sized,
+broad shouldered but rather thin, with fine features of the aquiline
+Greek type, light blue hazy eyes, and fair hair, slightly curling
+and streaked with gray. His manners were those of one polite for
+his own sake. To his remote inferiors he was kind--would even
+encourage them to liberties, but might in turn take greater with
+them than they might find agreeable. He was fond of animals--
+would sit for an hour stroking the head of Demon, his great Irish
+deerhound; but at other times would tease him to a wrath which
+touched the verge of dangerous. He was fond of practical jokes,
+and would not hesitate to indulge himself even in such as were
+incompatible with any genuine refinement: the sort had been in vogue
+in his merrier days, and Lord Lossie had ever been one of the most
+fertile in inventing, and loudest in enjoying them. For the rest,
+if he was easily enraged, he was readily appeased; could drink a
+great deal, but was no drunkard; and held as his creed that a God
+had probably made the world and set it going, but that he did not
+care a brass farthing, as he phrased it, how it went on, or what
+such an insignificant being as a man did or left undone in it.
+Perhaps he might amuse himself with it, he said, but he doubted
+it. As to men, he believed every man loved himself supremely, and
+therefore was in natural warfare with every other man. Concerning
+women he professed himself unable to give a definite utterance of
+any sort--and yet, he would add, he had had opportunities.
+
+The mother of Florimel had died when she was a mere child, and from
+that time she had been at school until her father brought her away
+to share his fresh honours. She knew little, that little was not
+correct, and had it been, would have yet been of small value. At
+school she had been under many laws, and had felt their slavery:
+she was now in the third heaven of delight with her liberty. But
+the worst of foolish laws is, that when the insurgent spirit casts
+them off, it is but too ready to cast away with them the genial
+self-restraint which these fretting trammels have smothered beneath
+them.
+
+Her father regarded her as a child, of whom it was enough to require
+that she should keep out of mischief. He said to himself now and
+then that he must find a governess for her; but as yet he had not
+begun to look for one. Meantime he neither exercised the needful
+authority over her, nor treated her as a companion. His was a
+shallow nature, never very pleasantly conscious of itself except in
+the whirl of excitement, and the glitter of crossing lights: with
+a lovely daughter by his side, he neither sought to search into
+her being, nor to aid its unfolding, but sat brooding over past
+pleasures, or fancying others yet in store for him--lost in
+the dull flow of life along the lazy reach to whose mire its once
+tumultuous torrent had now descended. But, indeed, what could such
+a man have done for the education of a young girl? How many of the
+qualities he understood and enjoyed in women could he desire to
+see developed in his daughter? There was yet enough of the father
+in him to expect those qualities in her to which in other women he
+had been an insidious foe; but had he not done what in him lay to
+destroy his right of claiming such from her?
+
+So Lady Florimel was running wild, and enjoying it. As long as she
+made her appearance at meals, and looked happy, her father would
+give himself no trouble about her. How he himself managed to live
+in those first days without company--what he thought about or
+speculated upon, it were hard to say. All he could be said to do
+was to ride here and there over the estate with his steward, Mr
+Crathie, knowing little and caring less about farming, or crops,
+or cattle. He had by this time, however, invited a few friends to
+visit him, and expected their arrival before long.
+
+"How do you like this dull life, Flory?" he said, as they walked
+up the garden to breakfast.
+
+"Dull, papa!" she returned. "You never were at a girls' school, or
+you wouldn't call this dull. It is the merriest life in the world.
+To go where you like, and have miles of room! And such room! It's
+the loveliest place in the world, papa!"
+
+He smiled a small, satisfied smile, and stooping stroked his Demon.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV: MEG PARTAN'S LAMP
+
+
+Malcolm went down the riverside, not over pleased with the marquis;
+for, although unconscious of it as such, he had a strong feeling
+of personal dignity.
+
+As he threaded the tortuous ways of the Seaton towards his own
+door, he met sounds of mingled abuse and apology. Such were not
+infrequent in that quarter, for one of the women who lived there
+was a termagant, and the door of her cottage was generally open. She
+was known as Meg Partan. Her husband's real name was of as little
+consequence in life as it is in my history, for almost everybody
+in the fishing villages of that coast was and is known by his
+to-name, or nickname, a device for distinction rendered absolutely
+necessary by the paucity of surnames occasioned by the persistent
+intermarriage of the fisher folk. Partan is the Scotch for crab,
+but the immediate recipient of the name was one of the gentlest
+creatures in the place, and hence it had been surmised by some that,
+the grey mare being the better horse, the man was thus designated
+from the crabbedness of his wife; but the probability is he brought
+the agnomen with him from school, where many such apparently
+misfitting names are unaccountably generated.
+
+In the present case, however, the apologies were not issuing as
+usual from the mouth of Davy Partan, but from that of the blind
+piper. Malcolm stood for a moment at the door to understand the
+matter of contention, and prepare him to interfere judiciously.
+
+"Gien ye suppose, piper, 'at ye're peyed to drive fowk oot o' their
+beds at sic hoors as yon, it 's time the toon cooncil was informed
+o' yer mistak," said Meg Partan, with emphasis on the last syllable.
+
+"Ta coot peoples up in ta town are not half so hart upon her as you,
+Mistress Partan," insinuated poor Duncan, who, knowing himself in
+fault, was humble; "and it 's tere tat she's paid," he added, with
+a bridling motion, "and not town here pelow."
+
+"Dinna ye glorifee yersel' to suppose there's a fisher, lat alane
+a fisher's wife, in a' the haill Seaton 'at wad lippen (trust) till
+an auld haiveril like you to hae them up i' the mornin'! Haith! I
+was oot o' my bed hoors or I hard the skirlin' o' your pipes. Troth
+I ken weel hoo muckle ower ear' ye was! But what fowk taks in han',
+fowk sud put oot o' han' in a proper mainner, and no misguggle 't
+a'thegither like yon. An' for what they say i' the toon, there's
+Mistress Catanach--"
+
+"Mistress Catanach is a paad 'oman," said Duncan.
+
+"I wad advise you, piper, to haud a quaiet sough about her. She's
+no to be meddlet wi', Mistress Catanach, I can tell ye. Gien ye
+anger her, it'll be the waur for ye. The neist time ye hae a lyin'
+in, she'll be raxin' (reaching) ye a hairless pup, or, deed, maybe
+a stan' o' bagpipes, as the produck."
+
+"Her nain sel' will not pe requiring her sairvices, Mistress Partan;
+she'll pe leafing tat to you, if you'll excuse me," said Duncan.
+
+"Deed, ye're richt there! An auld speldin' (dried haddock) like
+you! Ha! ha! ha!"
+
+Malcolm judged it time to interfere, and stepped into the cottage.
+Duncan was seated in the darkest corner of the room, with an apron
+over his knees, occupied with a tin lamp. He had taken out the wick
+and laid its flat tube on the hearth, had emptied the oil into a
+saucer, and was now rubbing the lamp vigorously: cleanliness rather
+than brightness must have been what he sought to produce.
+
+Malcolm's instinct taught him to side so far with the dame concerning
+Mrs Catanach, and thereby turn the torrent away from his grandfather.
+
+"'Deed ye're richt there, Mistress Findlay!" he said. "She's no to
+be meddlet wi'. She's no mowse (safe)."
+
+Malcolm was a favourite with Meg, as with all the women of the
+place; hence she did not even start in resentment at his sudden
+appearance, but, turning to Duncan, exclaimed victoriously,--
+"Hear till her ain oye! He's a laad o' sense!"
+
+"Ay, hear to him!" rejoined the old man with pride. "My Malcolm
+will always pe speaking tat which will pe worth ta hearing with
+ta ears. Poth of you and me will be knowing ta Mistress Catanach
+pretty well--eh, Malcolm, my son? We'll not be trusting her fery
+too much--will we, my son?"
+
+"No a hair, daddy," returned Malcolm.
+
+"She's a dooms clever wife, though; an' ane 'at ye may lippen
+till i' the w'y o' her ain callin'," said Meg Partan, whose temper
+had improved a little under the influence of the handsome youth's
+presence and cheery speech.
+
+"She'll not pe toubting it," responded Duncan; "put, ach! ta voman
+'ll be hafing a crim feesage and a fearsome eye!"
+
+Like all the blind, he spoke as if he saw perfectly.
+
+"Weel, I hae hard fowk say 'at ye bude (behoved) to hae the second
+sicht," said Mrs Findlay, laughing rudely; "but wow! it stan's ye
+in sma' service gien that be a' it comes till. She's a guid natur'd,
+sonsy luikin' wife as ye wad see; an' for her een, they're jist
+sic likes mine ain.--Haena ye near dune wi' that lamp yet?"
+
+"The week of it 'll pe shust a lettle out of orter," answered the
+old man. "Ta pairns has been' pulling it up with a peen from ta
+top, and not putting it in at ta hole for ta purpose. And she'll pe
+thinking you'll be cleaning off ta purnt part with a peen yourself,
+rna'am, and not with ta pair of scissors she tolt you of, Mistress
+Partan."
+
+"Gae 'wa' wi' yer nonsense!" cried Meg. "Daur ye say 1 dinna ken
+hoo to trim an uilyie lamp wi' the best blin' piper that ever cam
+frae the bare leggit Heelans?"
+
+"A choke's a choke, ma'am," said Duncan, rising with dignity; "put
+for a laty to make a choke of a man's pare leks is not ta propriety!"
+
+"Oot o' my hoose wi' ye!" screamed the she Partan. "Wad ye threep
+(insist) upo' me onything I said was less nor proaper. 'At I sud
+say what wadna stan' the licht as weels the bare houghs o' ony
+heelan' rascal 'at ever lap a lawlan' dyke!"
+
+"Hoot toot, Mistress Findlay," interposed Malcolm, as his grandfather
+strode from the door; "ye maunna forget 'at he's auld an' blin';
+an' a' heelan' fowk's some kittle (touchy) about their legs."
+
+"Deil shochle them!" exclaimed the Partaness; "what care I for 's
+legs!"
+
+Duncan had brought the germ of this ministry of light from his
+native Highlands, where he had practised it in his own house, no
+one but himself being permitted to clean, or fill, or, indeed, trim
+the lamp. How first this came about, I do not believe the old man
+himself knew. But he must have had some feeling of a call to the
+work; for he had not been a month in Portlossie, before he had
+installed himself in several families as the genius of their lamps,
+and he gradually extended the relation until it comprehended almost
+all the houses in the village.
+
+It was strange and touching to see the sightless man thus busy about
+light for others. A marvellous symbol of faith he was--not only
+believing in sight, but in the mysterious, and to him altogether
+unintelligible means by which others saw! In thus lending his aid
+to a faculty in which he had no share, he himself followed the trail
+of the garments of Light, stooping ever and anon to lift and bear
+her skirts. He haunted the steps of the unknown Power, and flitted
+about the walls of her temple as we mortals haunt the borders of
+the immortal land, knowing nothing of what lies behind the unseen
+veil, yet believing in an unrevealed grandeur. Or shall we say he
+stood like the forsaken merman, who, having no soul to be saved,
+yet lingered and listened outside the prayer echoing church? Only
+old Duncan had got farther: though he saw not a glimmer of the
+glory, he yet asserted his part and lot in it, by the aiding of his
+fellows to that of which he lacked the very conception himself. He
+was a doorkeeper in the house, yea, by faith the blind man became
+even a priest in the temple of Light.
+
+Even when his grandchild was the merest baby, he would never allow
+the gloaming to deepen into night without kindling for his behoof
+the brightest and cleanest of train oil lamps. The women who at
+first looked in to offer their services, would marvel at the trio
+of blind man, babe, and burning lamp, and some would expostulate
+with him on the needless waste. But neither would he listen to
+their words, nor accept their offered assistance in dressing or
+undressing the child. The sole manner in which he would consent to
+avail himself of their willingness to help him, was to leave the
+baby in charge of this or that neighbour while he went his rounds
+with the bagpipes: when he went lamp cleaning he always took him
+along with him.
+
+By this change of guardians Malcolm was a great gainer, for thus
+he came to be surreptitiously nursed by a baker's dozen of mothers,
+who had a fund of not very wicked amusement in the lamentations of
+the old man over his baby's refusal of nourishment, and his fears
+that he was pining away. But while they honestly declared that
+a healthier child had never been seen in Portlossie, they were
+compelled to conceal the too satisfactory reasons of the child's
+fastidiousness; for they were persuaded that the truth would only
+make Duncan terribly jealous, and set him on contriving how at once
+to play his pipes and carry his baby.
+
+He had certain days for visiting certain houses, and cleaning the
+lamps in them. The housewives had at first granted him as a privilege
+the indulgence of his whim, and as such alone had Duncan regarded
+it; but by and by, when they found their lamps burn so much better
+from being properly attended to, they began to make him some small
+return; and at length it became the custom with every housewife
+who accepted his services, to pay him a halfpenny a week during
+the winter months for cleaning her lamp. He never asked for it;
+if payment was omitted, never even hinted at it; received what was
+given him thankfully; and was regarded with kindness, and, indeed,
+respect, by all. Even Mrs Partan, as he alone called her, was his
+true friend: no intensity of friendship could have kept her from
+scolding. I believe if we could thoroughly dissect the natures
+of scolding women, we should find them in general not at all so
+unfriendly as they are unpleasant.
+
+A small trade in oil arose from his connection with the lamps, and
+was added to the list of his general dealings. The fisher folk made
+their own oil, but sometimes it would run short, and then recourse
+was had to Duncan's little store, prepared by himself of the best;
+chiefly, now, from the livers of fish caught by his grandson. With
+so many sources of income, no one wondered at his getting on. Indeed
+no one would have been surprised to hear, long before Malcolm had
+begun to earn anything, that the old man had already laid by a
+trifle.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV: THE SLOPE OF THE DUNE
+
+
+Looking at Malcolm's life from the point of his own consciousness,
+and not from that of the so called world, it was surely pleasant
+enough. Innocence, devotion to another, health, pleasant labour
+with an occasional shadow of danger to arouse the energies, leisure,
+love of reading, a lofty minded friend, and, above all, a supreme
+presence, visible to his heart in the meeting of vaulted sky and
+outspread sea, and felt at moments in any waking wind that cooled
+his glowing cheek and breathed into him anew of the breath of life,
+--lapped in such conditions, bathed in such influences, the youth's
+heart was swelling like a rosebud ready to burst into blossom.
+
+But he had never yet felt the immediate presence of woman in any
+of her closer relations. He had never known mother or sister; and,
+although his voice always assumed a different tone and his manner
+grew more gentle in the presence, of a woman, old or young, he
+had found little individually attractive amongst the fisher girls.
+There was not much in their circumstances to bring out the finer
+influences of womankind in them: they had rough usage, hard work
+at the curing and carrying of fish and the drying of nets, little
+education, and but poor religious instruction. At the same time
+any failure in what has come to be specially called virtue, was
+all but unknown amongst them; and the profound faith in women, and
+corresponding worship of everything essential to womanhood which
+essentially belonged to a nature touched to fine issues, had as yet
+met with no check. It had never come into Malcolm's thoughts that
+there were live women capable of impurity. Mrs. Catanach was the
+only woman he had ever looked upon with dislike--and that dislike
+had generated no more than the vaguest suspicion. Let a woman's
+faults be all that he had ever known in woman; he yet could look
+on her with reverence--and the very heart of reverence is love,
+whence it may be plainly seen that Malcolm's nature was at once
+prepared for much delight, and exposed to much suffering. It followed
+that all the women of his class loved and trusted him; and hence
+in part it came that, absolutely free of arrogance, he was yet
+confident in the presence of women. The tradesmen's daughters in
+the upper town took pains to show him how high above him they were,
+and women of better position spoke to him with a kind condescension
+that made him feel the gulf that separated them; but to one and
+all he spoke with the frankness of manly freedom.
+
+But he had now arrived at that season when, in the order of things,
+a man is compelled to have at least a glimmer of the life which
+consists in sharing life with another. When once, through the thousand
+unknown paths of creation, the human being is so far divided from
+God that his individuality is secured, it has become yet more
+needful that the crust gathered around him in the process should be
+broken; and the love between man and woman arising from a difference
+deep in the heart of God, and essential to the very being of each
+--for by no words can I express my scorn of the evil fancy that
+the distinction between them is solely or even primarily physical
+--is one of his most powerful forces for blasting the wall of
+separation, and first step towards the universal harmony of twain
+making one. That love should be capable of ending in such vermiculate
+results as too often appear, is no more against the loveliness of
+the divine idea, than that the forms of man and woman, the spirit
+gone from them, should degenerate to such things as may not be
+looked upon. There is no plainer sign of the need of a God, than
+the possible fate of love. The celestial Cupido may soar aloft on
+seraph wings that assert his origin, or fall down on the belly of
+a snake and creep to hell.
+
+But Malcolm was not of the stuff of which coxcombs are made, and had
+not begun to think even of the abyss that separated Lady Florimel
+and himself--an abyss like that between star and star, across
+which stretches no mediating air--a blank and blind space. He
+felt her presence only as that of a being to be worshipped, to be
+heard with rapture, and yet addressed without fear.
+
+Though not greatly prejudiced in favour of books, Lady Florimel
+had burrowed a little in the old library at Lossie House, and had
+chanced on the Faerie Queene. She had often come upon the name of
+the author in books of extracts, and now, turning over its leaves,
+she found her own. Indeed, where else could her mother have found
+the name Florimel? Her curiosity was roused, and she resolved--
+no light undertaking--to read the poem through, and see who and
+what the lady, Florimel, was. Notwithstanding the difficulty she met
+with at first, she had persevered, and by this time it had become
+easy enough. The copy she had found was in small volumes, of which
+she now carried one about with her wherever she wandered; and
+making her first acquaintance with the sea and the poem together,
+she soon came to fancy that she could not fix her attention on the
+book without the sound of the waves for an accompaniment to the
+verse--although the gentler noise of an ever flowing stream would
+have better suited the nature of Spenser's rhythm; for indeed,
+he had composed the greater part of the poem with such a sound
+in his ears, and there are indications in the poem itself that he
+consciously took the river as his chosen analogue after which to
+model the flow of his verse.
+
+It was a sultry afternoon, and Florimel lay on the seaward side
+of the dune, buried in her book. The sky was foggy with heat, and
+the sea lay dull, as if oppressed by the superincumbent air, and
+leaden in hue, as if its colour had been destroyed by the sun. The
+tide was rising slowly, with a muffled and sleepy murmur on the
+sand; for here were no pebbles to impart a hiss to the wave as it
+rushed up the bank, or to go softly hurtling down the slope with
+it as it sank. As she read, Malcolm was walking towards her along
+the top of the dune, but not until he came almost above where she
+lay, did she hear his step in the soft quenching sand.
+
+She nodded kindly, and he descended approaching her.
+
+"Did ye want me, my leddy?" he asked.
+
+"No," she answered.
+
+"I wasna sure whether ye noddit 'cause ye wantit me or no," said
+Malcolm, and turned to reascend the dune.
+
+"Where are you going now?" she asked.
+
+"Ow! nae gait in particlar. I jist cam oot to see hoo things war
+luikin."
+
+"What things?"
+
+"Ow! jist the lift (sky), an' the sea, an' sic generals."
+
+That Malcolm's delight in the presences of Nature--I say presences,
+as distinguished from forms and colours and all analyzed sources
+of her influences--should have already become a conscious thing
+to himself requires to account for it the fact that his master,
+Graham, was already under the influences of Wordsworth, whom he had
+hailed as a Crabbe that had burst his shell and spread the wings
+of an eagle the virtue passed from him to his pupil.
+
+"I won't detain you from such important business," said Lady
+Florimel, and dropped her eyes on her book.
+
+"Gien ye want my company, my leddy, I can luik aboot me jist as
+weel here as ony ither gait," said Malcolm.
+
+And as he spoke, he gently stretched himself on the dune, about
+three yards aside and lower down. Florimel looked half amused and
+half annoyed, but she had brought it on herself, and would punish
+him only by dropping her eyes again on her book, and keeping silent.
+She had come to the Florimel of snow.
+
+Malcolm lay and looked at her for a few moments pondering; then
+fancying he had found the cause of her offence, rose, and, passing
+to the other side of her, again lay down, but at a still more
+respectful distance.
+
+"Why do you move?" she asked, without looking up.
+
+"'Cause there's jist a possible air o' win' frae the nor'east."
+
+"And you want me to shelter you from it?" said Lady Florimel.
+
+"Na, na, my leddy," returned Malcolm, laughing; "for as bonny's ye
+are, ye wad be but sma' scoug (shelter)."
+
+"Why did you move, then?" persisted the girl, who understood what
+he said just about half.
+
+"Weel, my leddy, ye see it 's het, an'  aye amang the fish mair
+or less, an' I didna ken 'at I was to hae the honour o' sittin'
+doon aside ye; sae I thocht ye was maybe smellin' the fish. It's
+healthy eneuch, but some fowk disna like it; an' for a' that I ken,
+you gran' fowk's senses may be mair ready to scunner (take offence)
+than oors. 'Deed, my leddy, we wadna need to be particlar, whiles,
+or it wad be the waur for 's."
+
+Simple as it was, the explanation served to restore her equanimity,
+disturbed by what had seemed his presumption in lying down in her
+presence: she saw that she had mistaken the action. The fact was,
+that, concluding from her behaviour she had something to say to him,
+but was not yet at leisure for him, he had lain down, as a loving
+dog might, to await her time. It was devotion, not coolness. To remain
+standing before her would have seemed a demand on her attention; to
+lie down was to withdraw and wait. But Florimel, although pleased,
+was only the more inclined to torment--a peculiarity of disposition
+which she inherited from her father: she bowed her face once more
+over her book, and read though three whole stanzas, without however
+understanding a single phrase in them, before she spoke. Then
+looking up, and regarding for a moment the youth who lay watching
+her with the eyes of the servants in the psalm, she said,--"Well?
+What are you waiting for?"
+
+"I thocht ye wantit me, my leddy! I beg yer pardon," answered
+Malcolm, springing to his feet, and turning to go.
+
+"Do you ever read?" she asked.
+
+"Aften that," replied Malcolm, turning again, and standing stock
+still. "An' I like best to read jist as yer leddyship's readin'
+the noo, lyin' o' the san' hill, wi' the haill sea afore me, an
+naething atween me an' the icebergs but the watter an' the stars
+an' a wheen islands. It's like readin' wi' fower een, that!"
+
+"And what do you read on such occasions?" carelessly drawled his
+persecutor.
+
+"Whiles ae thing an' whiles anither--whiles onything I can lay my
+han's upo'. I like traivels an' sic like weel eneuch; an' history,
+gien it be na ower dry like. I div not like sermons, an' there's
+mair o' them in Portlossie than onything ither. Mr Graham--that's
+the schoolmaister--has a gran' libbrary, but it 's maist Laitin an'
+Greek, an' though I like the Laitin weel, it 's no what I wad read
+i' the face o' the sea. When ye're in dreid o' wantin' a dictionar',
+that spiles a'."
+
+"Can you read Latin then?"
+
+"Ay: what for no, my leddy? I can read Virgil middlin'; an' Horace's
+Ars Poetica, the whilk Mr Graham says is no its richt name ava, but
+jist Epistola ad Pisones; for gien they bude to gie 't anither it
+sud ha' been Ars Dramatica. But leddies dinna care aboot sic things."
+
+"You gentlemen give us no chance. You won't teach us."
+
+"Noo, my leddy, dinna begin to mak' ghem o' me, like my lord. I
+cud ill bide it frae him, an' gien ye tak till 't as weel, 1 maun
+jist haud oot o' yer gait.  nae gentleman, an' hae ower muckle
+respeck for what becomes a gentleman to be pleased at bein' ca'd
+ane. But as for the Laitin, I'll be prood to instruck yer leddyship
+whan ye please."
+
+" afraid I've no great wish to learn," said Florimel.
+
+"I daur say no," said Malcolm quietly, and again addressed himself
+to go.
+
+"Do you like novels?" asked the girl.
+
+"I never saw a novelle. There's no ane amo' a' Mr Graham's buiks,
+an' I s' warran' there's full twa hunner o' them. I dinna believe
+there's a single novelle in a' Portlossie."
+
+"Don't be too sure: there are a good many in our library."
+
+"I hadna the presumption, my leddy, to coont the Hoose in Portlossie
+--Ye'll hae a sicht o' buiks up there, no?"
+
+"Have you never been in the library?"
+
+"I never set fut i' the hoose--'cep' i' the kitchie, an' ance
+or twise steppin' across the ha' frae the ae door to the tither.
+I wad fain see what kin' o' a place great fowk like you bides in,
+an' what kin' o' things, buiks an' a', ye hae aboot ye. It's no
+easy for the like o' huz 'at has but a but an' a ben (outer and
+inner room), to unnerstan' hoo ye fill sic a muckle place as yon.
+I wad be aye i' the libbrary, I think. But," he went on, glancing
+involuntarily at the dainty little foot that peered from under her
+dress, "yer leddyship's sae licht fittit, ye'll be ower the haill
+dwallin', like a wee bird in a muckle cage. Whan I want room, I
+like it wantin' wa's."
+
+Once more he was on the point of going, but once more a word detained
+him.
+
+"Do you ever read poetry?"
+
+"Ay, sometimes--whan it 's auld."
+
+"One would think you were talking about wine! Does age improve
+poetry as well?"
+
+"I ken naething aboot wine, my leddy. Miss Horn gae me a glaiss the
+ither day, an' it tastit weel, but whether it was merum or mixtum,
+I couldna tell mair nor a haddick. Doobtless age does gar poetry
+smack a wee better; but I said auld only 'cause there's sae little
+new poetry that I care aboot comes my gait. Mr Graham's unco ta'en
+wi' Maister Wordsworth--no an ill name for a poet; do ye ken
+onything aboot him, my leddy?"
+
+"I never heard of him."
+
+"I wadna gie an auld Scots ballant for a barrowfu' o' his. There's
+gran' bits here an' there, nae doobt, but it 's ower mim mou'ed
+for me."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"It's ower saft an' sliddery like i' yer mou', my leddy."
+
+"What sort do you like then?"
+
+"I like Milton weel. Ye get a fine mou'fu' o' him. I dinna like
+the verse 'at ye can murle (crumble) oot atween yer lips an' yer
+teeth. I like the verse 'at ye maun open yer mou' weel to lat gang.
+Syne it 's worth yer while, whether ye unnerstan' 't or no."
+
+"I don't see how you can say that."
+
+"Jist hear, my leddy! Here's a bit I cam upo' last nicht:
+
+His volant touch,
+Instinct through all proportions, low and high,
+Fled and pursued transverse the resonant fugue.
+
+Hear till 't! It's gran'--even though ye dinna ken what it means
+a bit."
+
+"I do know what it means," said Florimel. "Let me see: volant means
+--what does volant mean?"
+
+"It means fleein', I suppose."
+
+"Well, he means some musician or other."
+
+"Of coorse: it maun be Jubal--I ken a' the words but fugue; though
+I canna tell what business instinct an' proportions hae there."
+
+"It's describing how the man's fingers, playing a fugue--on the
+organ, I suppose,--"
+
+"A fugue 'll be some kin' o' a tune, than? That casts a heap o'
+licht on't, my leddy--I never saw an organ: what is 't like?"
+
+"Something like a pianoforte."
+
+"But I never saw ane o' them either. It's ill makin' things
+a'thegither oot o' yer ain heid."
+
+"Well, it 's played with the fingers--like this," said Florimel.
+"And the fugue is a kind of piece where one part pursues the other,
+--"
+
+"An' syne," cried Malcolm eagerly, "that ane turns roon' an' rins
+efter the first;--that 'll be 'fled and pursued transverse.'
+I hae't! I hae't! See, my leddy, what it is to hae sic schoolin',
+wi' music an' a'! The proportions--that's the relation o' the
+notes to ane anither; an' fugue--that comes frae fugere to flee
+--'fled and pursued transverse the resonant fugue '--the tane
+rinnin' efter the tither, roon' an' roon'. Ay, I hae't noo!--
+Resonant--that's echoing or resounding. But what's instinct my
+leddy? It maun be an adjective,  thinkin'."
+
+Although the modesty of Malcolm had led him to conclude the girl
+immeasurably his superior in learning because she could tell him
+what a fugue was, he soon found she could help him no further, for
+she understood scarcely anything about grammar, and her vocabulary
+was limited enough. Not a doubt interfered, however, with her
+acceptance of the imputed superiority; for it is as easy for some
+to assume as it is for others to yield.
+
+"I hae't! It is an adjective," cried Malcolm, after a short pause
+of thought. "It's the touch that's instinct. But I fancy there sud
+be a comma efter instinct.--His fingers were sae used till 't
+that they could 'maist do the thing o' themsel's--Isna 't lucky,
+my leddy, that I thocht o' sayin' 't ower to you! I'll read the buik
+frae the beginnin',--it 's the neist to the last, I think,--jist
+to come upo' the twa lines i' their ain place, ohn their expeckin'
+me like, an' see hoo gran' they soon' whan a body unnerstan's them.
+Thank ye, my leddy."
+
+"I suppose you read Milton to your grandfather?"
+
+"Ay, sometimes--i' the lang forenights."
+
+"What do you mean by the forenights?"
+
+"I mean efter it 's dark an' afore ye gang to yer bed.--He likes
+the battles o' the angels best. As sune 's it comes to ony fechtin',
+up he gets, an' gangs stridin' aboot the flure; an' whiles he maks
+a claucht at 's claymore; an' faith! ance he maist cawed aff my
+heid wi' 't, for he had made a mistak aboot whaur I was sittin'."
+
+"What's a claymore?"
+
+"A muckle heelan' braidswoord, my leddy. Clay frae gladius verra
+likly; an' more 's the Gaelic for great: claymore, great sword.
+Blin' as my gran'father is, ye wad sweer he had fochten in 's day,
+gien ye hard hoo he'll gar't whurr an' whustle aboot 's heid as
+gien 't war a bit lath o' wud."
+
+"But that's very dangerous," said Florimel, something aghast at
+the recital.
+
+"Ow, ay!" assented Malcolm, indifferently,--"Gien ye wad luik
+in, my leddy, I wad lat ye see his claymore, an' his dirk, an' his
+skene dhu, an' a'."
+
+"I don't think I could venture. He's too dreadful! I should be
+terrified at him."
+
+"Dreidfu' my leddy? He's the quaietest, kin'liest auld man I that
+is, providit ye say naething for a Cawmill, or agen ony ither
+hielanman. Ye see he comes o' Glenco, an' the Cawmills are jist a
+hate till him--specially Cawmill o' Glenlyon, wha was the warst
+o' them a'. Ye sud hear him tell the story till 's pipes, my leddy!
+It's gran' to hear him! An' the poetry a' his ain!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI: THE STORM
+
+
+There came a blinding flash, and a roar through the leaden air,
+followed by heavy drops mixed with huge hailstones. At the flash,
+Florimel gave a cry and half rose to her feet, but at the thunder,
+fell as if stunned by the noise, on the sand. As if with a bound,
+Malcolm was by her side, but when she perceived his terror, she
+smiled, and laying hold of his hand, sprung to her feet.
+
+"Come, come," she cried; and still holding his hand, hurried up the
+dune, and down the other side of it. Malcolm accompanied her step
+for step, strongly tempted, however, to snatch her up, and run for
+the bored craig: he could not think why she made for the road--
+high on an unscalable embankment, with the park wall on the other
+side. But she ran straight for a door in the embankment itself,
+dark between two buttresses, which, never having seen it open, he
+had not thought of. For a moment she stood panting before it, while
+with trembling hand she put a key in the lock; the next she pushed
+open the creaking door and entered. As she turned to take out the
+key, she saw Malcolm yards away in the middle of the road and in
+a cataract of rain, which seemed to have with difficulty suspended
+itself only until the lady should be under cover. He stood with
+his bonnet in his hand, watching for a farewell glance.
+
+"Why don't you come in?" she said impatiently.
+
+He was beside her in a moment.
+
+"I didna ken ye wad lat me in," he said.
+
+"I wouldn't have you drowned," she returned, shutting the door.
+
+"Droont!" he repeated, "It wad tak a hantle (great deal) to droon
+me. I stack to the boddom o' a whumled boat a haill nicht whan I
+was but fifeteen."
+
+They stood in a tunnel which passed under the road, affording
+immediate communication between the park and the shore. The further
+end of it was dark with trees. The upper half of the door by which
+they had entered was a wooden grating, for the admission of light,
+and through it they were now gazing, though they could see little
+but the straight lines of almost perpendicular rain that scratched
+out the colours of the landscape. The sea was troubled, although no
+wind blew; it heaved as with an inward unrest. But suddenly there
+was a great broken sound somewhere in the air; and the next moment
+a storm came tearing over the face of the sea, covering it with
+blackness innumerably rent into spots of white. Presently it struck
+the shore, and a great rude blast came roaring through the grating,
+carrying with it a sheet of rain, and, catching Florimel's hair,
+sent it streaming wildly out behind her.
+
+"Dinna ye think, my leddy," said Malcolm, "ye had better mak for the
+hoose? What wi' the win' an' the weet thegither, ye'll be gettin'
+yer deith o' cauld. I s' gang wi' ye sae far, gien ye'll alloo me,
+jist to baud it ohn blawn ye awa'."
+
+The wind suddenly fell, and his last words echoed loud in the
+vaulted sky. For a moment it grew darker in the silence, and then
+a great flash carried the world away with it, and left nothing but
+blackness behind. A roar of thunder followed, and even while it yet
+bellowed, a white face flitted athwart the grating, and a voice of
+agony shrieked aloud:
+
+"I dinna ken whaur it comes frae!"
+
+Florimel grasped Malcolm's arm: the face had passed close to hers
+--only the grating between, and the cry cut through the thunder
+like a knife.
+
+Instinctively, almost unconsciously, he threw his arm around her,
+to shield her from her own terror.
+
+"Dinna be fleyt, my leddy," he said. "It's naething but the mad
+laird. He's a quaiet cratur eneuch, only he disna ken whaur he comes
+frae--he disna ken whaur onything comes frae--an' he canna bide
+it. But he wadna hurt leevin' cratur, the laird."
+
+"What a dreadful face!" said the girl, shuddering.
+
+"It's no an ill faured face," said Malcolm, "only the storm's
+frichtit him by ord'nar, an' it 's unco ghaistly the noo."
+
+"Is there nothing to be done for him?" she said compassionately.
+
+"No upo' this side the grave, I doobt, my leddy," answered Malcolm.
+
+Here coming to herself the girl became aware of her support, and
+laid her hand on Malcolm's to remove his arm. He obeyed instantly,
+and she said nothing.
+
+"There was some speech," he went on hurriedly, with a quaver in
+his voice, "o' pittin' him intill the asylum at Aberdeen, an' no
+lattin' him scoor the queentry this gait, they said; but it wad
+hae been sheer cruelty, for the cratur likes naething sac weel
+as rinnin' aboot, an' does no' mainner o' hurt. A verra bairn can
+guide him. An' he has jist as guid a richt to the leeberty God gies
+him as ony man alive, an' mair nor a hantle (more than many)."
+
+"Is nothing known about him?"
+
+"A' thing's known aboot him, my leddy, 'at 's known aboot the lave
+(rest) o' 's. His father was the laird o' Gersefell--an' for
+that maitter he's laird himsel' noo. But they say he's taen sic a
+scunner (disgust) at his mither, that he canna bide the verra word
+o' mither; he jist cries oot whan he hears 't."
+
+"It seems clearing," said Florimel.
+
+"I doobt it 's only haudin' up for a wee," returned Malcolm, after
+surveying as much of the sky as was visible through the bars; "but
+I do think ye had better run for the hoose, my leddy. I s' jist
+follow ye, a feow yairds ahin', till I see ye safe. Dinna ye be
+feared--I s' tak guid care: I wadna hae ye seen i' the company
+o' a fisher lad like me."
+
+There was no doubting the perfect simplicity with which this was
+said, and the girl took no exception. They left the tunnel, and
+skirting the bottom of the little hill on which stood the temple
+of the winds, were presently in the midst of a young wood, through
+which a gravelled path led towards the House. But they had not gone
+far ere a blast of wind, more violent than any that had preceded
+it, smote the wood, and the trees, young larches and birches and
+sycamores, bent streaming before it. Lady Florimel turned to see
+where Malcolm was, and her hair went from her like a Maenad's,
+while her garments flew fluttering and straining, as if struggling
+to carry her off. She had never in her life before been out in a
+storm, and she found the battle joyously exciting. The roaring of
+the wind in the trees was grand; and what seemed their terrified
+struggles while they bowed and writhed and rose but to bow again,
+as in mad effort to unfix their earthbound roots and escape, took
+such sympathetic hold of her imagination, that she flung out her
+arms, and began to dance and whirl as if herself the genius of the
+storm. Malcolm, who had been some thirty paces behind, was with
+her in a moment.
+
+"Isn't it splendid?" she cried.
+
+"It blaws weel--verra near as weel 's my daddy," said Malcolm,
+enjoying it quite as much as the girl.
+
+"How dare you make game of such a grand uproar?" said Florimel with
+superiority.
+
+"Mak ghem o' a blast o' win' by comparin' 't to my gran'father!"
+exclaimed Malcolm. "Hoot, my leddy! its a coamplement to the biggest
+blast 'at ever blew to be compairt till an auld man like him.
+ower used to them to min' them muckle mysel', 'cep' to fecht wi'
+them. But whan I watch the seagoos dartin' like arrowheids throu'
+the win', I sometimes think it maun be gran' for the angels to caw
+aboot great flags o' wings in a mortal warstle wi' sic a hurricane
+as this."
+
+"I don't understand you one bit," said Lady Florimel petulantly.
+
+As she spoke, she went on, but, the blast having abated, Malcolm
+lingered, to place a proper distance between them.
+
+"You needn't keep so far behind," said Florimel, looking back.
+
+"As yer leddyship pleases," answered Malcolm, and was at once by
+her side. "I'll gang till ye tell me to stan'.--Eh, sae different
+'s ye look frae the ither mornin'!"
+
+"What morning?"
+
+"Whan ye was sittin' at the fut o' the bored craig."
+
+"Bored craig? What's that?"
+
+"The rock wi' a hole throu' 'it. Ye ken the rock weel eneuch, my
+leddy. Ye was sittin' at the fut o' 't, readin' yer buik, as white
+'s gien ye had been made o' snaw. It cam to me that the rock was
+the sepulchre, the hole the open door o' 't, an' yersel' ane o' the
+angels that had faulded his wings an' was waitin' for somebody to
+tell the guid news till, that he was up an awa'."
+
+"And what do I look like today?" she asked.
+
+"Ow! the day, ye luik like some cratur o' the storm; or the storm
+itsel' takin' a leevin' shape, an' the bonniest it could; or maybe,
+like Ahriel, gaein' afore the win', wi' the blast in 's feathers,
+rufflin' them 'a gaits at ance."
+
+"Who's Ahriel?"
+
+"Ow, the fleein' cratur i' the Tempest! But in your bonny southern
+speech, I daursay ye wad ca' him--or her, I dinna ken whilk the
+cratur was--ye wad ca' 't Ayriel?"
+
+"I don't know anything about him or her or it," said Lady Florimel.
+
+"Ye'll hae a' aboot him up i' the libbrary there though," said
+Malcolm. "The Tempest's the only ane o' Shakspere's plays 'at I hae
+read, but it 's a gran' ane, as Maister Graham has empooered me to
+see."
+
+"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Florimel, "I've lost my book!"
+
+"I'll gang back an' luik for 't this meenute, my leddy," said Malcolm.
+"I ken ilka fit o' the road we've come, an' it 's no possible but
+I fa' in wi' 't.--Ye'll sune be hame noo, an' it'll hardly be on
+again afore ye win in," he added, looking up at the clouds.
+
+"But how am I to get it? I want it very much."
+
+"I'll jest fess 't up to the Hoose, an' say 'at I fan' 't whaur I
+will fin' 't. But I wiss ye wad len' me yer pocket nepkin to row
+'t in, for  feared for blaudin' 't afore I get it back to ye."
+
+Florimel gave him her handkerchief, and Malcolm took his leave,
+saying.--"I'll be up i' the coorse o' a half hoor at farthest."
+
+The humble devotion and absolute service of the youth, resembling
+that of a noble dog, however unlikely to move admiration in Lady
+Florimel's heart, could not fail to give her a quiet and welcome
+pleasure. He was an inferior who could be depended upon, and
+his worship was acceptable. Not a fear of his attentions becoming
+troublesome ever crossed her mind. The wider and more impassable the
+distinctions of rank, the more possible they make it for artificial
+minds to enter into simply human relations; the easier for the oneness
+of the race to assert itself, in the offering and acceptance of a
+devoted service. There is more of the genuine human in the relationship
+between some men and their servants, than between those men and
+their own sons.
+
+With eyes intent, and keen as those of a gazehound, Malcolm retraced
+every step, up to the grated door. But no volume was to be seen.
+Turning from the door of the tunnel, for which he had no Sesame,
+he climbed to the foot of the wall that crossed it above, and with
+a bound, a clutch at the top, a pull and a scramble, was in the
+high road in a moment. From the road to the links was an easy drop,
+where, starting from the grated door, he retraced their path from
+the dune. Lady Florimel had dropped the book when she rose, and
+Malcolm found it lying on the sand, little the worse. He wrapped
+it in its owner's handkerchief, and set out for the gate at the
+mouth of the river.
+
+As he came up to it, the keeper, an ill conditioned snarling fellow,
+who, in the phrase of the Seaton folk, "rade on the riggin (ridge)
+o' 's authority," rushed out of the lodge, and just as Malcolm was
+entering, shoved the gate in his face.
+
+"Ye comena in wi'oot the leave o' me," he cried, with a vengeful
+expression.
+
+"What's that for?" said Malcolm, who had already interposed his
+great boot, so that the spring bolt could not reach its catch.
+
+"There s' nae lan' loupin' rascals come in here," said Bykes,
+setting his shoulder to the gate.
+
+That instant he went staggering back to the wall of the lodge, with
+the gate after him.
+
+"Stick to the wa' there," said Malcolm, as he strode in.
+
+The keeper pursued him with frantic abuse, but he never turned his
+head. Arrived at the House, he committed the volume to the cook,
+with a brief account of where he had picked it up, begging her to
+inquire whether it belonged to the House. The cook sent a maid with
+it to Lady Florimel, and Malcolm waited until she returned--with
+thanks and a half crown. He took the money, and returned by the
+upper gate through the town.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII: THE ACCUSATION
+
+
+The next morning, soon after their early breakfast, the gate keeper
+stood in the door of Duncan MacPhail's cottage, with a verbal
+summons for Malcolm to appear before his lordship.
+
+"An'  no to lowse sicht o' ye till ye hae put in yer appearance,"
+he added; "sae gien ye dinna come peaceable, I maun gar ye."
+
+"Whaur's yer warrant?" asked Malcolm coolly.
+
+"Ye wad hae the impidence to deman' my warrant, ye young sorner!"
+cried Bykes indignantly. "Come yer wa's, my man, or I s' gar ye
+smairt for 't"
+
+"Haud a quaiet sough, an' gang hame for yer warrant," said Malcolm.
+"It's lyin' there, doobtless, or ye wadna hae daured to shaw yer
+face on sic an eeran'."
+
+Duncan, who was dozing in his chair, awoke at the sound of high
+words. His jealous affection perceived at once that Malcolm was
+being insulted. He sprang to his feet, stepped swiftly to the wall,
+caught down his broadsword, and rushed to the door, making the huge
+weapon quiver and whir about his head as if it had been a slip of
+tin plate.
+
+"Where is ta rascal?" he shouted. "She'll cut him town! Show her ta
+lowlan' thief! She'll cut him town! Who'll be insulting her Malcolm?"
+
+But Bykes, at first sight of the weapon, had vanished in dismay.
+
+"Hoot toot, daddy," said Malcolm, taking him by the arm; "there's
+naebody here. The puir cratur couldna bide the sough o' the
+claymore. He fled like the autumn wind over the stubble. There's
+Ossian for't."
+
+"Ta Lord pe praised!" cried Duncan. "She'll be confounded her foes.
+But what would ta rascal pe wanting, my son?"
+
+Leading him back to his chair, Malcolm told him as much as he knew
+of the matter.
+
+"Ton't you co for a warrant," said Duncan. "If my lort marquis
+will pe senting for you as one chentleman sends for another, then
+you co."
+
+Within an hour Bykes reappeared, accompanied by one of the gamekeepers
+--an Englishman. The moment he heard the door open, Duncan caught
+again at his broadsword.
+
+"We want you, my young man," said the gamekeeper, standing on the
+threshold, with Bykes peeping over his shoulder, in an attitude
+indicating one foot already lifted to run.
+
+"What for?"
+
+"That's as may appear."
+
+"Whaur's yer warrant?"
+
+"There."
+
+"Lay 't doon o' the table, an' gang back to the door, till I get
+a sklent at it," said Malcolm. "Ye're an honest man, Wull--but I
+wadna lippen a snuff mull 'at had mair nor ae pinch intill 't wi'
+yon cooard cratur ahin' ye."
+
+He was afraid of the possible consequences of his grandfather's
+indignation.
+
+The gamekeeper did at once as he was requested, evidently both amused
+with the bearing of the two men and admiring it. Having glanced at
+the paper, Malcolm put it in his pocket, and whispering a word to
+his grandfather, walked away with his captors.
+
+As they went to the House, Bykes was full of threats of which he
+sought to enhance the awfulness by the indefiniteness; but Will
+told Malcolm as much as he knew of the matter--namely, that the
+head gamekeeper, having lost some dozen of his sitting pheasants,
+had enjoined a strict watch; and that Bykes having caught sight
+of Malcolm in the very act of getting over the wall, had gone and
+given information against him.
+
+No one about the premises except Bykes would have been capable of
+harbouring suspicion of Malcolm; and the head gamekeeper had not
+the slightest; but, knowing that his lordship found little enough
+to amuse him, and anticipating some laughter from the confronting
+of two such opposite characters, he had gone to the marquis with
+Byke's report,--and this was the result. His lordship was not a
+magistrate, and the so called warrant was merely a somewhat sternly
+worded expression of his desire that Malcolm should appear and
+answer to the charge.
+
+The accused was led into a vaulted chamber opening from the hall
+--a genuine portion, to judge from its deep low arched recesses,
+the emergence of truncated portions of two or three groins, and
+the thickness of its walls, of the old monastery. Close by the door
+ascended a right angled modern staircase.
+
+Lord Lossie entered, and took his seat in a great chair in one of
+the recesses.
+
+"So, you young jackanapes!" he said, half angry, and half amused,
+"you decline to come, when I send for you, without a magistrate's
+warrant, forsooth! It looks bad to begin with, I must say!"
+
+"Yer lordship wad never hae had me come at sic a summons as that
+cankert ted (toad) Johnny Bykes broucht me. Gien ye had but hard
+him! He spak as gien he had been sent to fess me to yer lordship
+by the scruff o' the neck, an' I didna believe yer lordship wad
+do sic a thing. Ony gait, I wasna gauin' to stan' that. Ye wad hae
+thocht him a cornel at the sma'est, an' me a wheen heerin' guts.
+But it wad hae garred ye lauch, my lord, to see hoo the body ran
+whan my blin' gran'father--he canna bide onybody interferin' wi'
+me--made at him wi' his braid swoord!"
+
+"Ye leein' rascal!" cried Bykes; "--me feared at an auld spidder,
+'at hasna breath eneuch to fill the bag o' 's pipes!"
+
+"Caw canny, Johnny Bykes. Gien ye say an ill word o' my gran'father,
+I s' gie your neck a thraw--an' that the meenute we're oot o'
+'s lordship's presence."
+
+"Threits! my lord," said the gatekeeper, appealing.
+
+"And well merited," returned his lordship. "--Well, then," he went
+on, again addressing Malcolm, "What have you to say for yourself
+in regard of stealing my brood pheasants?"
+
+"Maister MacPherson," said Malcolm, with an inclination of his head
+towards the gamekeeper, "micht ha' fun' a fitter neuk to fling that
+dirt intill. 'Deed, my lord, it 's sae ridic'lous, it hardly angers
+me. A man 'at can hae a' the fish i' the haill ocean for the takin'
+o' them, to be sic a sneck drawin' contemptible wratch as tak yer
+lordship's bonny hen craturs frae their chuckies--no to mention
+the sin o't!--it 's past an honest man's denyin', my lord. An'
+Maister MacPherson kens better, for luik at him lauchin' in 's ain
+sleeve."
+
+"Well, we've no proof of it," said the marquis; "but what do you
+say to the charge of trespass?"
+
+"The policies hae aye been open to honest fowk, my lord."
+
+"Then where was the necessity for getting in over the wall!"
+
+"I beg yer pardon, my lord: ye hae nae proof agen me o' that aither."
+
+"Daur ye tell me," cried Bykes, recovering himself, "'at I didna
+see ye wi' my twa een, loup the dyke aneth the temple--ay, an
+something flutterin' unco like bird wings i' yer han'?"
+
+"Oot or in, Johnny Bykes?"
+
+"Ow! oot."
+
+"I did loup the dyke my lord; but it was oot, no in."
+
+"How did you get in then?" asked the marquis.
+
+"I gat in, my lord," began Malcolm, and ceased.
+
+"How did you get in?" repeated the marquis.
+
+"Ow! there's mony w'ys o' winnin' in, my lord. The last time I cam
+in but ane, it was 'maist ower the carcass o' Johnny there, wha wad
+fain hae hauden me oot, only he hadna my blin' daddy ahint him to
+ile 's jints."
+
+"An' dinna ye ca' that brakin' in?" said Bykes.
+
+"Na; there was naething to brak, 'cep it had been your banes, Johnny;
+an' that wad hae been a peety--they're sae guid for rinnin wi'."
+
+"You had no right to enter against the will of my gatekeeper," said
+his lordship. "What is a gatekeeper for?"
+
+"I had a richt, my lord, sae lang 's I was upo' my leddy's business."
+
+"And what was my lady's business, pray?" questioned the marquis.
+
+"I faun' a buik upo' the links, my lord, which was like to be
+hers, wi' the twa beasts 'at stans at yer lordship's door inside
+the brod (board) o' 't. An' sae it turned oot to be whan I took it
+up to the Hoose. There's the half croon she gae me."
+
+Little did Malcolm think where the daintiest of pearly ears
+were listening, and the brightest of blue eyes looking down, half
+in merriment, a quarter in anxiety, and the remaining quarter in
+interest! On a landing half way up the stair, stood Lady Florimel,
+peeping over the balusters, afraid to fix her eyes upon him lest
+she should make him look up.
+
+"Yes, yes, I daresay!" acquiesced the marquis; "but," he persisted,
+"what I want to know is, how you got in that time. You seem to have
+some reluctance to answer the question."
+
+"Weel, I hey, my lord."
+
+"Then I must insist on your doing so."
+
+"Weel, I jist winna, my lord. It was a' straucht foret an' fair;
+an' gien yer lordship war i' my place, ye wadna say mair yersel'."
+
+"He's been after one of the girls about the place," whispered the
+marquis to the gamekeeper.
+
+"Speir at him, my lord, gien 't please yer lordship, what it was
+he hed in 's han' whan he lap the park wa'," said Bykes.
+
+"Gien 't be a' ane till 's lordship," said Malcolm, without looking
+at Bykes, "it wad be better no to speir, for it gangs sair agen me
+to refeese him."
+
+"I should like to know," said the marquis.
+
+"Ye maun trust me, my lord, that I was efter no ill. I gie ye my
+word for that, my lord."
+
+"But how am I to know what your word is worth?" returned Lord
+Lossie, well pleased with the dignity of the youth's behaviour.
+
+"To ken what a body's word 's worth ye maun trust him first, my lord.
+It's no muckle trust I want o' ye: it comes but to this--that I
+hae rizzons, guid to me, an' no ill to you gien ye kent them, for
+not answerin' yer lordship's questions.  no denyin' a word 'at
+Johnny Bykes says. I never hard the cratur ca'd a leear. He's but
+a cantankerous argle barglous body--no fit to be a gatekeeper
+'cep it was up upo' the Binn side, whaur 'maist naebody gangs oot
+or in. He wad maybe be safter hertit till a fellow cratur syne."
+
+"Would you have him let in all the tramps in the country?" said
+the marquis.
+
+"De'il ane o' them, my Lord; but I wad hae him no trouble the likes
+o' me 'at fesses the fish to your lordship's brakwast: sic 's no
+like to be efter mischeef."
+
+"There is some glimmer of sense in what you say," returned his
+lordship. "But you know it won't do to let anybody that pleases
+get over the park walls. Why didn't you go out at the gate?"
+
+"The burn was atween me an' hit, an' it 's a lang road roon'."
+
+"Well, I must lay some penalty upon you, to deter others," said
+the marquis.
+
+"Verra well, my lord. Sae lang 's it 's fair, I s' bide it ohn
+grutten (without weeping)."
+
+"It shan't be too hard. It's just this--to give John Bykes the
+thrashing he deserves, as soon as you're out of sight of the House."
+
+"Na, na, my lord; I canna do that," said Malcolm.
+
+"So you're afraid of him, after all!"
+
+"Feared at Johnnie Bykes, my lord! Ha! ha!"
+
+"You threatened him a minute ago, and now, when I give you leave
+to thrash him, you decline the honour!"
+
+"The disgrace, my lord. He's an aulder man, an' no abune half the
+size. But fegs! gien he says anither word agen my gran'father, I
+will gin 's neck a bit thaw"
+
+"Well, well, be off with you both," said the marquis rising.
+
+No one heard the rustle of Lady Florimel's dress as she sped up the
+stair, thinking with herself how very odd it was to have a secret
+with a fisherman; for a secret it was, seeing the reticence of
+Malcolm had been a relief to her; when she shrunk from what seemed
+the imminent mention of her name in the affair before the servants.
+She had even felt a touch of mingled admiration and gratitude when
+she found what a faithful squire he was--capable of an absolute
+obstinacy indeed, where she was concerned. For her own sake as well
+as his she was glad that he had got off so well, for otherwise she
+would have felt bound to tell her father the whole story, and she
+was not at all so sure as Malcolm that he would have been satisfied
+with his reasons, and would not have been indignant with the fellow
+for presuming even to be silent concerning his daughter. Indeed
+Lady Florimel herself felt somewhat irritated with him, as having
+brought her into the awkward situation of sharing a secret with a
+youth of his position.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII: THE QUARREL
+
+
+For a few days the weather was dull and unsettled, with cold flaws,
+and an occasional sprinkle of rain. But after came a still gray
+morning, warm and hopeful, and ere noon the sun broke out, the
+mists vanished, and the day was glorious in blue and gold. Malcolm
+had been to Scaurnose, to see his friend Joseph Mair, and was
+descending the steep path down the side of the promontory, on his
+way home, when his keen eye caught sight of a form on the slope of
+the dune which could hardly be other than that of Lady Florimel.
+She did not lift her eyes until he came quite near, and then only
+to drop them again with no more recognition than if he had been
+any other of the fishermen. Already more than half inclined to pick
+a quarrel with him, she fancied that, presuming upon their very
+commonplace adventure and its resulting secret, he approached her
+with an assurance he had never manifested before, and her head was
+bent motionless over her book when he stood and addressed her.
+
+"My leddy," he began, with his bonnet by his knee.
+
+"Well?" she returned, without even lifting her eyes, for, with
+the inherited privilege of her rank, she could be insolent with
+coolness, and call it to mind without remorse.
+
+"I houp the bit buikie wasna muckle the waur, my leddy," he said.
+
+"'Tis of no consequence," she replied.
+
+"Gien it war mine, I wadna think sae," he returned, eyeing her
+anxiously. "--Here's yer leddyship's pocket nepkin," he went on.
+"I hae keepit it ready rowed up, ever sin' my daddy washed it oot.
+It's no ill dune for a blin' man, as ye'll see, an' I ironed it
+mysel' as weel's I cud."
+
+As he spoke he unfolded a piece of brown paper, disclosing a little
+parcel in a cover of immaculate post, which he humbly offered her.
+
+Taking it slowly from his hand, she laid it on the ground beside
+her with a stiff "thank you," and a second dropping of her eyes
+that seemed meant to close the interview.
+
+"I doobt my company's no welcome the day, my leddy," said Malcolm
+with trembling voice; "but there's ae thing I maun refar till. Whan
+I took hame yer leddyship's buik the ither day, ye sent me half a
+croon by the han' o' yer servan' lass. Afore her I wasna gaein' to
+disalloo onything ye pleased wi' regaird to me; an' I thocht wi'
+mysel' it was maybe necessar' for yer leddyship's dignity an' the
+luik o' things--"
+
+"How dare you hint at any understanding between you and me?"
+exclaimed the girl in cold anger.
+
+"Lord, mem! what hey I said to fess sic a fire flaucht oot o' yer
+bonny een? I thocht ye only did it 'cause ye wad' na like to luik
+shabby afore the lass--no giein' onything to the lad 'at brocht
+ye yer ain--an' lippened to me to unnerstan' 'at ye did it but
+for the luik o' the thing, as I say."
+
+He had taken the coin from his pocket, and had been busy while he
+spoke rubbing it in a handful of sand, so that it was bright as
+new when he now offered it.
+
+"You are quite mistaken," she rejoined, ungraciously. "You insult
+me by supposing I meant you to return it."
+
+"Div ye think I cud bide to be paid for a turn till a neebor, lat
+alane the liftin' o' a buik till a leddy?" said Malcolm with keen
+mortification. "That wad be to despise mysel' frae keel to truck.
+I like to be paid for my wark, an' I like to be paid weel: but no
+a plack by siclike (beyond such) sall stick to my loof (palm). It
+can be no offence to gie ye back yer half croon, my leddy."
+
+And again he offered the coin.
+
+"I don't in the least see why, on your own principles, you shouldn't
+take the money," said the girl, with more than the coldness of an
+uninterested umpire. "You worked for it,  sure--first accompanying
+me home in such a storm, and then finding the book and bringing it
+back all the way to the house!"
+
+"'Deed, my leddy, sic a doctrine wad tak a' grace oot o' the earth!
+What wad this life be worth gien a' was to be peyed for? I wad cut
+my throat afore I wad bide in sic a warl'.--Tak yer half croon,
+my leddy," he concluded, in a tone of entreaty.
+
+But the energetic outburst was sufficing, in such her mood, only
+to the disgust of Lady Florimel.
+
+"Do anything with the money you please; only go away, and don't
+plague me about it," she said freezingly.
+
+"What can I du wi' what I wadna pass throu' my fingers?" said
+Malcolm with the patience of deep disappointment.
+
+"Give it to some poor creature: you know some one who would be glad
+of it, I daresay."
+
+"I ken mony ane, my leddy, wham it wad weel become yer am bonny han'
+to gie 't till; but  no gaein' to tak' credit fer a leeberality
+that wad ill become me."
+
+"You can tell how you earned it."
+
+"And profess mysel' disgraced by takin' a reward frae a born leddy
+for what I wad hae dune for ony beggar wife i' the lan'. Na, na,
+my leddy."
+
+"Your services are certainly flattering, when you put me on a level
+with any beggar in the country!"
+
+"In regaird o' sic service, my leddy: ye ken weel eneuch what I
+mean. Obleege me by takin' back yer siller."
+
+"How dare you ask me to take back what I once gave?"
+
+"Ye cudna hae kent what ye was doin' whan ye gae 't, my leddy. Tak
+it back, an tak a hunnerweicht aff o' my hert."
+
+He actually mentioned his heart!--was it to be borne by a girl
+in Lady Florimel's mood?
+
+"I beg you will not annoy me," she said, muffling her anger in
+folds of distance, and again sought her book.
+
+Malcolm looked at her for a moment, then turned his face towards
+the sea, and for another moment stood silent. Lady Florimel glanced
+up, but Malcolm was unaware of her movement. He lifted his hand,
+and looked at the half crown gleaming on his palm; then, with a
+sudden poise of his body, and a sudden fierce action of his arm,
+he sent the coin, swift with his heart's repudiation, across the
+sands into the tide. Ere it struck the water he had turned, and,
+with long stride but low bent head, walked away. A pang shot to
+Lady Florimel's heart. "Malcolm!" she cried.
+
+He turned instantly, came slowly back, and stood erect and silent
+before her.
+
+She must say something. Her eye fell on the little parcel beside
+her, and she spoke the first thought that came.
+
+"Will you take this?" she said, and offered him the handkerchief.
+
+In a dazed way he put out his hand and took it, staring at it as
+if he did not know what it was.
+
+"It's some sair!" he said at length, with a motion of his hands as
+if to grasp his head between them. "Ye winna tak even the washin'
+o' a pocket nepkin frae me, an' ye wad gar me tak a haill half
+croon frae yersel'! Mem, ye're a gran' leddy an' a bonny; an ye
+hae turns aboot ye, gien 'twar but the set o' yer heid, 'at micht
+gar an angel lat fa' what he was carryin', but afore I wad affront
+ane that wantit naething o' me but gude will, I wad--I wad--
+raither be the fisher lad that I am."
+
+A weak kneed peroration, truly; but Malcolm was over burdened at
+last. He laid the little parcel on the sand at her feet, almost
+reverentially, and again turned. But Lady Florimel spoke again.
+
+"It is you who are affronting me now," she said gently. "When a lady
+gives her handkerchief to a gentleman, it is commonly received as
+a very great favour indeed."
+
+"Gien I hae made a mistak, my leddy, I micht weel mak it, no bein' a
+gentleman, and no bein' used to the traitment o' ane. But I doobt
+gien a gentleman wad ha' surmised what ye was efter wi' yer nepkin',
+gien ye had offert him half a croon first."
+
+"Oh, yes, he would--perfectly!" said Florimel with an air of
+offence.
+
+"Then, my leddy, for the first time i' my life, I wish I had been
+born a gentleman."
+
+"Then I certainly wouldn't have given it you," said Florimel with
+perversity.
+
+"What for no, my leddy? I dinna unnerstan' ye again. There maun be
+an unco differ atween 's!"
+
+"Because a gentleman would have presumed on such a favour."
+
+" glaidder nor ever 'at I wasna born ane," said Malcolm, and,
+slowly stooping, he lifted the handkerchief; "an' I was aye glaid
+o' that, my leddy, 'cause gien I had been, I wad hae been luikin'
+doon upo' workin' men like mysel' as gien they warna freely o' the
+same flesh an' blude. But I beg yer leddyship's pardon for takin'
+ye up amiss. An' sae lang's I live, I'll regaird this as ane o'
+her fedders 'at the angel moutit as she sat by the bored craig.
+An' whan  deid, I'll hae 't laid upo' my face, an' syne, maybe,
+I may get a sicht o' ye as I pass. Guid day my leddy."
+
+"Good day," she returned kindly. "I wish my father would let me
+have a row in your boat."
+
+"It's at yer service whan ye please, my leddy," said Malcolm.
+
+One who had caught a glimpse of the shining yet solemn eyes of the
+youth, as he walked home, would wonder no longer that he should talk
+as he did--so sedately, yet so poetically--so long windedly,
+if you like, yet so sensibly--even wisely.
+
+Lady Florimel lay on the sand, and sought again to read the "Faerie
+Queene." But for the last day or two she had been getting tired of
+it, and now the forms that entered by her eyes dropped half their
+substance and all their sense in the porch, and thronged her brain
+with the mere phantoms of things, with words that came and went
+and were nothing. Abandoning the harvest of chaff, her eyes rose
+and looked out upon the sea. Never, even from tropical shore, was
+richer hued ocean beheld. Gorgeous in purple and green, in shadowy
+blue and flashing gold, it seemed to Malcolm, as if at any moment
+the ever newborn Anadyomene might lift her shining head from the
+wandering floor, and float away in her pearly lustre to gladden the
+regions where the glaciers glide seawards in irresistible silence,
+there to give birth to the icebergs in tumult and thunderous uproar.
+But Lady Florimel felt merely the loneliness. One deserted boat
+lay on the long sand, like the bereft and useless half of a double
+shell. Without show of life the moveless cliffs lengthened far
+into a sea where neither white sail deepened the purple and gold,
+nor red one enriched it with a colour it could not itself produce.
+Neither hope nor aspiration awoke in her heart at the sight. Was
+she beginning to be tired of her companionless liberty? Had the
+long stanzas, bound by so many interwoven links of rhyme, ending in
+long Alexandrines, the long cantos, the lingering sweetness long
+drawn out through so many unended books, begun to weary her at
+last? Had even a quarrel with a fisher lad been a little pastime
+to her? and did she now wish she had detained him a little longer?
+Could she take any interest in him beyond such as she took in Demon,
+her father's dog, or Brazenose, his favourite horse?
+
+Whatever might be her thoughts or feelings at this moment, it
+remained a fact, that Florimel Colonsay, the daughter of a marquis,
+and Malcolm, the grandson of a blind piper, were woman and man--
+and the man the finer of the two this time.
+
+As Malcolm passed on his way one of the three or four solitary rocks
+which rose from the sand, the skeleton remnants of larger masses
+worn down by wind, wave, and weather, he heard his own name uttered
+by an unpleasant voice, and followed by a more unpleasant laugh.
+
+He knew both the voice and the laugh, and, turning, saw Mrs
+Catanach, seated, apparently busy with her knitting, in the shade
+of the rock.
+
+"Weel?" he said curtly.
+
+"Weel!--Set ye up!--Wha's yon ye was play actin' wi' oot yonner?"
+
+"Wha telled ye to speir, Mistress Catanach?"
+
+"Ay, ay, laad! Ye'll be abune speykin' till an auld wife efter
+colloguin' wi' a yoong ane, an' sic a ane! Isna she bonny, Malkie?
+Isna hers a winsome shape an' a lauchin' ee? Didna she draw ye on,
+an' luik i' the hawk's een o' ye, an' lay herself oot afore ye,
+an' ?"
+
+"She did naething o' the sort, ye ill tongued wuman!" said Malcolm
+in anger.
+
+"Ho! ho!" trumpeted Mrs Catanach. "Ill tongued, am I? An' what
+neist?"
+
+"Ill deedit," returned Malcolm, "--whan ye flang my bonny salmon
+troot till yer oogly deevil o' a dog."
+
+"Ho! ho! ho! Ill deedit, am I? I s' no forget thae bonny names!
+Maybe yer lordship wad alloo me the leeberty o' speirin' anither
+question at ye, Ma'colm MacPhail."
+
+"Ye may speir 'at ye like, sae lang 's ye canna gar me stan' to
+hearken. Guid day to ye, Mistress Catanach. Yer company was nane
+o' my seekin': I may lea' 't whan I like."
+
+"Dinna ye be ower sure o' that," she called after him venomously.
+
+But Malcolm turned his head no more.
+
+As soon as he was out of sight, Mrs Catanach rose, ascended the
+dune, and propelled her rotundity along the yielding top of it.
+When she arrived within speaking distance of Lady Florimel, who
+lay lost in her dreary regard of sand and sea, she paused for a
+moment, as if contemplating her.
+
+Suddenly, almost by Lady Florimel's side, as if he had risen from
+the sand, stood the form of the mad laird.
+
+"I dinna ken whaur I come frae," he said.
+
+Lady Florimel started, half rose, and seeing the dwarf so near,
+and on the other side of her a repulsive looking woman staring at
+her, sprung to her feet and fled. The same instant the mad laird,
+catching sight of Mrs Catanach, gave a cry of misery, thrust his
+fingers in his ears, darted down the other side of the dune and
+sped along the shore. Mrs. Catanach shook with laughter.
+
+"I hae skailled (dispersed) the bonny doos!" she said. Then she
+called aloud after the flying girl,--"My leddy! My bonny leddy!"
+
+Florimel paid no heed, but ran straight for the door of the
+tunnel, and vanished. Thence leisurely climbing to the temple of
+the winds, she looked down from a height of safety upon the shore
+and the retreating figure of Mrs. Catanach. Seating herself by
+the pedestal of the trumpet blowing Wind, she assayed her reading
+again, but was again startled--this time by a rough salute
+from Demon. Presently her father appeared, and Lady Florimel felt
+something like a pang of relief at being found there, and not on
+the farther side of the dune making it up with Malcolm.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX: DUNCAN'S PIPES
+
+
+A few days after the events last narrated, a footman in the marquis's
+livery entered the Seaton, snuffing with emphasized discomposure the
+air of the village, all ignorant of the risk he ran in thus openly
+manifesting his feelings; for the women at least were good enough
+citizens to resent any indignity offered their town. As vengeance
+would have it, Meg Partan was the first of whom, with supercilious
+airs and "clippit" tongue, he requested to know where a certain
+blind man, who played on an instrument called the bagpipes, lived.
+
+"Spit i' yer loof an' caw (search) for him," she answered--a
+reply of which he understood the tone and one disagreeable word.
+
+With reddening cheek he informed her that he came on his lord's
+business.
+
+"I dinna doobt it," she retorted; "ye luik siclike as rins ither
+fowk's eeran's."
+
+"I should be obliged if you would inform me where the man lives,"
+returned the lackey--with polite words in supercilious tones.
+
+"What d' ye want wi' him, honest man?" grimly questioned the
+Partaness, the epithet referring to Duncan, and not the questioner.
+
+"That 1 shall have the honour of informing himself," he replied.
+
+"Weel, ye can hae the honour o' informin' yersel' whaur he bides,"
+she rejoined, and turned away from her open door.
+
+All were not so rude as she, however, for he found at length a
+little girl willing to show him the way.
+
+The style in which his message was delivered was probably modified
+by the fact that he found Malcolm seated with his grandfather
+at their evening meal of water brose and butter; for he had been
+present when Malcolm was brought before the marquis by Bykes, and
+had in some measure comprehended the nature of the youth: it was
+in politest phrase, and therefore entirely to Duncan's satisfaction
+in regard of the manner as well as matter of the message, that he
+requested Mr Duncan MacPhail's attendance on the marquis the following
+evening at six o'clock, to give his lordship and some distinguished
+visitors the pleasure of hearing him play on the bagpipes during
+dessert. To this summons the old man returned stately and courteous
+reply, couched in the best English he could command; which, although
+considerably distorted by Gaelic pronunciation and idioms, was yet
+sufficiently intelligible to the messenger, who carried home the
+substance for the satisfaction of his master, and what he could of
+the form for the amusement of his fellow servants.
+
+Duncan, although he received it with perfect calmness, was yet
+overjoyed at the invitation. He had performed once or twice before
+the late marquis, and having ever since assumed the style of Piper
+to the Marquis of Lossie, now regarded the summons as confirmation
+in the office. The moment the sound of the messenger's departing
+footsteps died away, he caught up his pipes from the corner, where,
+like a pet cat, they lay on a bit of carpet, the only piece in
+the cottage, spread for them between his chair and the wall, and,
+though cautiously mindful of its age and proved infirmity, filled
+the bag full, and burst into such a triumphant onset of battle,
+that all the children of the Seaton were in a few minutes crowded
+about the door. He had not played above five minutes, however, when
+the love of finery natural to the Gael, the Gaul, the Galatian,
+triumphed over his love of music, and he stopped with an abrupt
+groan of the instrument to request Malcolm to get him new streamers.
+Whatever his notions of its nature might be, he could not come of
+the Celtic race without having in him somewhere a strong faculty
+for colour, and no doubt his fancy regarding it was of something
+as glorious as his knowledge of it must have been vague. At all
+events he not only knew the names of the colours in ordinary use,
+but could describe many of the clan tartans with perfect accuracy;
+and he now gave Malcolm complete instructions as to the hues
+of the ribbons he was to purchase. As soon as he had started on
+the important mission, the old man laid aside his instrument, and
+taking his broadsword from the wall, proceeded with the aid of
+brick dust and lamp oil, to furbish hilt and blade with the utmost
+care, searching out spot after spot of rust, to the smallest, with
+the delicate points of his great bony fingers. Satisfied at length
+of its brightness, he requested Malcolm, who had returned long
+before the operation was over, to bring him the sheath, which, for
+fear of its coming to pieces, so old and crumbling was the leather,
+he kept laid up in the drawer with his sporran and his Sunday coat.
+His next business, for he would not commit it to Malcolm, was to
+adorn the pipes with the new streamers. Asking the colour of each,
+and going by some principle of arrangement known only to himself
+he affixed them, one after the other, as he judged right, shaking
+and drawing out each to its full length with as much pride as if
+it had been a tone instead of a ribbon.  This done, he resumed his
+playing, and continued it, notwithstanding the remonstrances of
+his grandson, until bedtime.
+
+That night he slept but little, and as the day went on grew more and
+more excited. Scarcely had he swallowed his twelve o'clock dinner
+of sowens and oatcake, when he wanted to go and dress himself for
+his approaching visit. Malcolm persuaded him however to lie down
+a while and hear him play, and succeeded, strange as it may seem
+with such an instrument, in lulling him to sleep. But he had not
+slept more than five minutes when he sprung from the bed, wide awake,
+crying--"My poy, Malcolm! my son! you haf let her sleep in; and
+ta creat peoples will be impatient for her music, and cursing her
+in teir hearts!"
+
+Nothing would quiet him but the immediate commencement of the process
+of dressing, the result of which was, as I have said, even pathetic,
+from its intermixture of shabbiness and finery. The dangling brass
+capped tails of his sporran in front, the silver mounted dirk on
+one side, with its hilt of black oak carved into an eagle's head,
+and the steel basket of his broadsword gleaming at the other; his
+great shoulder brooch of rudely chased brass; the pipes with their
+withered bag and gaudy streamers; the faded kilt, oiled and soiled;
+the stockings darned in twenty places by the hands of the termagant
+Meg Partan; the brogues patched and patched until it would have
+been hard to tell a spot of the original leather; the round blue
+bonnet grown gray with wind and weather: the belts that looked
+like old harness ready to yield at a pull; his skene dhu sticking
+out grim and black beside a knee like a lean knuckle:--all combined
+to form a picture ludicrous to a vulgar nature, but gently pitiful
+to the lover of his kind, he looked like a half mouldered warrior,
+waked from beneath an ancient cairn, to walk about in a world
+other than he took it to be. Malcolm, in his commonplace Sunday
+suit, served as a foil to his picturesque grandfather; to whose
+oft reiterated desire that he would wear the highland dress, he had
+hitherto returned no other answer than a humorous representation
+of the different remarks with which the neighbours would encounter
+such a solecism.
+
+The whole Seaton turned out to see them start. Men, women, and
+children lined the fronts and gables of the houses they must pass
+on their way; for everybody knew where they were going, and wished
+them good luck. As if he had been a great bard with a henchman of his
+own, Duncan strode along in front, and Malcolm followed, carrying
+the pipes, and regarding his grandfather with a mingled pride
+and compassion lovely to see. But as soon as they were beyond the
+village the old man took the young one's arm, not to guide him,
+for that was needless, but to stay his steps a little, for when
+dressed he would, as I have said, carry no staff; and thus they
+entered the nearest gate of the grounds. Bykes saw them and scoffed,
+but with discretion, and kept out of their way.
+
+When they reached the house, they were taken to the servants' hall,
+where refreshments were offered them. The old man ate sparingly,
+saying he wanted all the room for his breath, but swallowed a glass
+of whisky with readiness; for, although he never spent a farthing
+on it, he had yet a highlander's respect for whisky, and seldom
+refused a glass when offered him. On this occasion, besides, anxious
+to do himself credit as a piper, he was well pleased to add a little
+fuel to the failing fires of old age; and the summons to the dining
+room being in his view long delayed, he had, before he left the
+hail, taken a second glass.
+
+They were led along endless passages, up a winding stone stair,
+across a lobby, and through room after room.
+
+"It will pe some glamour, sure, Malcolm!" said Duncan in a whisper
+as they went.
+
+Requested at length to seat themselves in an anteroom, the air of
+which was filled with the sounds and odours of the neighbouring
+feast, they waited again through what seemed to the impatient Duncan
+an hour of slow vacuity; but at last they were conducted into the
+dining room. Following their guide, Malcolm led the old man to the
+place prepared for him at the upper part of the room, where the
+floor was raised a step or two.
+
+Duncan would, I fancy, even unprotected by his blindness, have
+strode unabashed into the very halls of heaven. As he entered there
+was a hush, for his poverty stricken age and dignity told for one
+brief moment: then the buzz and laughter recommenced, an occasional
+oath emphasizing itself in the confused noise of the talk, the
+gurgle of wine, the ring of glass, and the chink of china.
+
+In Malcolm's vision, dazzled and bewildered at first, things soon
+began to arrange themselves. The walls of the room receded to their
+proper distance, and he saw that they were covered with pictures
+of ladies and gentlemen, gorgeously attired; the ceiling rose and
+settled into the dim show of a sky, amongst the clouds of which
+the shapes of very solid women and children disported themselves;
+while about the glittering table, lighted by silver candelabra with
+many branches, he distinguished the gaily dressed company, round
+which, like huge ill painted butterflies, the liveried footmen
+hovered. His eyes soon found the lovely face of Lady Florimel,
+but after the first glance he dared hardly look again. Whether its
+radiance had any smallest source in the pleasure of appearing like
+a goddess in the eyes of her humble servant, I dare not say, but
+more lucent she could hardly have appeared had she been the princess
+in a fairy tale, about to marry her much thwarted prince. She wore
+far too many jewels for one so young, for her father had given her
+all that belonged to her mother, as well as some family diamonds,
+and her inexperience knew no reason why she should not wear them.
+The diamonds flashed and sparkled and glowed on a white rather
+than fair neck, which, being very much uncollared dazzled Malcolm
+far more than the jewels. Such a form of enhanced loveliness,
+reflected for the first time in the pure mirror of a high toned
+manhood, may well be to such a youth as that of an angel with whom
+he has henceforth to wrestle in deadly agony until the final dawn;
+for lofty condition and gorgeous circumstance, while combining to
+raise a woman to an ideal height, ill suffice to lift her beyond
+love, or shield the lowliest man from the arrows of her radiation;
+they leave her human still. She was talking and laughing with a
+young man of weak military aspect, whose eyes gazed unshrinking on
+her beauty.
+
+The guests were not numerous: a certain bold faced countess, the
+fire in whose eyes had begun to tarnish, and the natural lines of
+whose figure were vanishing in expansion; the soldier, her nephew,
+a waisted elegance; a long, lean man, who dawdled with what he ate,
+and drank as if his bones thirsted; an elderly, broad; red faced,
+bull necked baron of the Hanoverian type; and two neighbouring
+lairds and their wives, ordinary, and well pleased to be at the
+marquis's table.
+
+Although the waiting were as many as the waited upon, Malcolm, who
+was keen eyed, and had a passion for service--a thing unintelligible
+to the common mind,--soon spied an opportunity of making himself
+useful.  Seeing one of the men, suddenly called away, set down a
+dish of fruit just as the countess was expecting it, he jumped up,
+almost involuntarily, and handed it to her. Once in the current of
+things, Malcolm would not readily make for the shore of inactivity:
+he finished the round of the table with the dish, while the men
+looked indignant, and the marquis eyed him queerly.
+
+While he was thus engaged, however, Duncan, either that his poor
+stock of patience was now utterly exhausted, or that he fancied a
+signal given, compressed of a sudden his full blown waiting bag,
+and blasted forth such a wild howl of the pibroch, that more than
+one of the ladies gave a cry and half started from their chairs. The
+marquis burst out laughing, but gave orders to stop him--a thing
+not to be effected in a moment, for Duncan was in full tornado, with
+the avenues of hearing, both corporeal and mental, blocked by his
+own darling utterance. Understanding at length, he ceased with the
+air and almost the carriage of a suddenly checked horse, looking
+half startled, half angry, his cheeks puffed, his nostrils expanded,
+his head thrown back, the port vent still in his mouth, the blown
+bag under his arm, and his fingers on the chanter, on the fret to
+dash forward again with redoubled energy. But slowly the strained
+muscles relaxed, he let the tube fall from his lips, and the bag
+descended to his lap.
+
+"A man forbid," he heard the ladies rise and leave the room, and
+not until the gentlemen sat down again to their wine, was there
+any demand for the exercise of his art.
+
+Now whether what followed had been prearranged, and old Duncan
+invited for the express purpose of carrying it out, or whether it
+was conceived and executed on the spur of the moment, which seems
+less likely, I cannot tell, but the turn things now took would be
+hard to believe, were they dated in the present generation. Some
+of my elder readers, however, will, from their own knowledge of
+similar actions, grant likelihood enough to my record.
+
+While the old man was piping, as bravely as his lingering mortification
+would permit, the marquis interrupted his music to make him drink
+a large glass of sherry; after which he requested him to play his
+loudest, that the gentlemen might hear what his pipes could do. At
+the same time he sent Malcolm with a message to the butler about
+some particular wine he wanted. Malcolm went more than willingly,
+but lost a good deal of time from not knowing his way through the
+house. When he returned he found things frightfully changed.
+
+As soon as he was out of the room, and while the poor old man was
+blowing his hardest, in the fancy of rejoicing his hearers with
+the glorious music of the highland hills, one of the company--it
+was never known which, for each merrily accused the other--took
+a penknife, and going softly behind him, ran the sharp blade into
+the bag, and made a great slit, so that the wind at once rushed
+out, and the tune ceased without sob or wail. Not a laugh betrayed
+the cause of the catastrophe: in silent enjoyment the conspirators
+sat watching his movements. For one moment Duncan was so astounded
+that he could not think; the next he laid the instrument across
+his knees, and began feeling for the cause of the sudden collapse.
+Tears had gathered in the eyes that were of no use but to weep
+withal, and were slowly dropping.
+
+"She wass afrait, my lort and chentlemans," he said, with a quavering
+voice, "tat her pag will pe near her latter end; put she pelieved
+she would pe living peyond her nainsel, my chentlemans."
+
+He ceased abruptly, for his fingers had found the wound, and were
+prosecuting an inquiry: they ran along the smooth edges of the
+cut, and detected treachery. He gave a cry like that of a wounded
+animal, flung his pipes from him, and sprang to his feet, but
+forgetting a step below him, staggered forward a few paces and
+fell heavily. That instant Malcolm entered the room. He hurried
+in consternation to his assistance. When he had helped him up and
+seated him again on the steps, the old man laid his head on his
+boy's bosom, threw his arms around his neck, and wept aloud.
+
+"Malcolm, my son," he sobbed, "Tuncan is wronged in ta halls of
+ta strancher; tey 'll haf stapped his pest friend to ta heart, and
+och hone! och hone! she'll pe aall too plint to take fencheance.
+Malcolm, son of heroes, traw ta claymore of ta pard, and fall upon
+ta traitors. She'll pe singing you ta onset, for ta pibroch is no
+more."
+
+His quavering voice rose that instant in a fierce though feeble
+chant, and his hand flew to the hilt of his weapon.
+
+Malcolm, perceiving from the looks of the men that things were as
+his grandfather had divined, spoke indignantly:
+
+"Ye oucht to tak shame to ca' yersel's gentlefowk, an' play a puir
+blin' man, wha was doin' his best to please ye, sic an ill faured
+trick."
+
+As he spoke they made various signs to him not to interfere, but
+Malcolm paid them no heed, and turned to his grandfather, eager to
+persuade him to go home. They had no intention of letting him off
+yet, however. Acquainted--probably through his gamekeeper, who
+laid himself out to amuse his master--with the piper's peculiar
+antipathies, Lord Lossie now took up the game.
+
+"It was too bad of you, Campbell," he said, "to play the good old
+man such a dog's trick."
+
+At the word Campbell the piper shook off his grandson, and sprang
+once more to his feet, his head thrown back, and every inch of his
+body trembling with rage.
+
+"She might haf known," he screamed, half choking, "that a cursed
+tog of a Cawmill was in it!"
+
+He stood for a moment, swaying in every direction, as if the spirit
+within him doubted whether to cast his old body on the earth in
+contempt of its helplessness, or to fling it headlong on his foes.
+For that one moment silence filled the room.
+
+"You needn't attempt to deny it; it really was too bad of you,
+Glenlyon," said the marquis.
+
+A howl of fury burst from Duncan's labouring bosom. His broadsword
+flashed from its sheath, and brokenly panting out the words:
+"Clenlyon! Ta creat dufil! Haf I peen trinking with ta hellhount,
+Clenlyon?"--he would have run a Malay muck through the room with
+his huge weapon. But he was already struggling in the arms of his
+grandson, who succeeded at length in forcing from his bony grasp the
+hilt of the terrible claymore. But as Duncan yielded his weapon,
+Malcolm lost his hold on him. He darted away, caught his dirk
+--a blade of unusual length--from its sheath, and shot in the
+direction of the last word he had heard. Malcolm dropped the sword
+and sprung after him.
+
+"Gif her ta fillain by ta troat," screamed the old man. "she'll
+stap his pag! She'll cut his chanter in two! She'll pe toing it!
+Who put ta creat cranson of Inverriggen should pe cutting ta troat
+of ta tog Clenlyon!"
+
+As he spoke, he was running wildly about the room, brandishing his
+weapon, knocking over chairs, and sweeping bottles and dishes from
+the table. The clatter was tremendous: and the smile had faded from
+the faces of the men who had provoked the disturbance. The military
+youth looked scared: the Hanoverian pig cheeks were the colour of
+lead; the long lean man was laughing like a skeleton: one of the
+lairds had got on the sideboard, and the other was making for the
+door with the bell rope in his hand; the marquis, though he retained
+his coolness, was yet looking a little anxious; the butler was
+peeping in at the door, with red nose and pale cheekbones, the
+handle in his hand, in instant readiness to pop out again; while
+Malcolm was after his grandfather, intent upon closing with him.
+The old man had just made a desperate stab at nothing half across
+the table, and was about to repeat it, when, spying danger to a
+fine dish, Malcolm reached forward to save it. But the dish flew
+in splinters, and the dirk passing through the thick of Malcolm's
+hand, pinned it to the table, where Duncan, fancying he had at
+length stabbed Glenlyon, left it quivering.
+
+"Tere, Clenlyon," he said, and stood trembling in the ebb of passion,
+and murmuring to himself something in Gaelic.
+
+Meantime Malcolm had drawn the dirk from the table, and released
+his hand. The blood was streaming from it, and the marquis took
+his own handkerchief to bind it up; but the lad indignantly refused
+the attention, and kept holding the wound tight with his left hand.
+The butler, seeing Duncan stand quite still, ventured, with scared
+countenance, to approach the scene of destruction.
+
+"Dinna gang near him," cried Malcolm. "He has his skene dhu yet,
+an' in grips that's warst ava."
+
+Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when the black knife was
+out of Duncan's stocking, and brandished aloft in his shaking fist.
+
+"Daddy!" cried Malcolm, "ye wadna kill twa Glenlyons in ae day--
+wad ye?"
+
+"She would, my son Malcolm!--fifty of ta poars in one preath!
+Tey are ta children of wrath, and tey haf to pe testructiont."
+
+"For an auld man ye hae killed enew for ae nicht," said Malcolm,
+and gently took the knife from his trembling hand. "Ye maun come
+hame the noo."
+
+"Is ta tog tead then?" asked Duncan eagerly.
+
+"Ow, na; he's breathin' yet," answered Malcolm.
+
+"She'll not can co till ta tog will pe tead. Ta tog may want more
+killing."
+
+"What a horrible savage!" said one of the lairds, a justice of the
+peace. "He ought to be shut up in a madhouse."
+
+"Gien ye set aboot shuttin' up, sir, or my lord--I kenna whilk
+--ye'll hae to begin nearer hame," said Malcolm, as he stooped
+to pick up the broadsword, and so complete his possession of the
+weapons. "An' ye'll please to haud in min', that nane here is an
+injured man but my gran'father himsel'."
+
+"Hey!" said the marquis; "what do you make of all my dishes?"
+
+"'Deed, my lord, ye may comfort yersel' that they warna dishes
+wi barns (brains) i' them; for sic 's some scarce i' the Hoose o'
+Lossie."
+
+"You're a long tongued rascal," said the marquis.
+
+"A lang tongue may whiles be as canny as a lang spune, my lord;
+an' ye ken what that's for?"
+
+The marquis burst into laughter.
+
+"What do you make then of that horrible cut in your own hand?"
+asked the magistrate.
+
+"I mak my ain business o' 't," answered Malcolm.
+
+While this colloquy passed, Duncan had been feeling about for his
+pipes: having found them he clasped them to his bosom like a hurt
+child.
+
+"Come home, come home," he said; "your own pard has refenched you."
+
+Malcolm took him by the arm and led him away. He went without a
+word, still clasping his wounded bagpipes to his bosom.
+
+"You'll hear from me in the morning, my lad," said the marquis in
+a kindly tone, as they were leaving the room.
+
+"I hae no wuss to hear onything mair o' yer lordship. Ye hae done
+eneuch this nicht, my lord, to mak ye ashamed o' yersel' till yer
+dyin' day--gien ye hed ony pooer o' shame left in ye."
+
+The military youth muttered something about insolence, and made
+a step towards him. Malcolm quitted his grandfather, and stepped
+again into his room.
+
+"Come on," he said.
+
+"No, no," interposed the marquis. "Don't you see the lad is hurt?"
+
+"Lat him come on," said Malcolm; "I hae ae soon' han'. Here, my
+lord, tak the wapons, or the auld man 'll get a grip o' them again."
+
+"I tell you no," shouted Lord Lossie. "Fred, get out--will you!"
+
+The young gentleman turned on his heel, and Malcolm led his grandfather
+from the house without further molestation. It was all he could
+do, however, to get him home. The old man's strength was utterly
+gone. His knees bent trembling under him, and the arm which rested
+on his grandson's shook as with an ague fit. Malcolm was glad indeed
+when at length he had him safe in bed, by which time his hand had
+swollen to a great size, and the suffering grown severe.
+
+Thoroughly exhausted by his late fierce emotions, Duncan soon fell
+into a troubled sleep, whereupon Malcolm went to Meg Partan, and
+begged her to watch beside him until he should return, informing
+her of the way his grandfather had been treated, and adding that
+he had gone into such a rage, that he feared he would be ill in
+consequence; and if he should be unable to do his morning's duty,
+it would almost break his heart.
+
+"Eh!" said the Partaness, in a whisper, as they parted at Duncan's
+door, "a baad temper 's a frichtsome thing.  sure the times I
+hae telled him it wad be the ruin o' 'im!"
+
+To Malcolm's gentle knock Miss Horn's door was opened by Jean.
+
+"What d'ye wint at sic an oontimeous hoor," she said, "whan honest
+fowk's a' i' their nicht caips?"
+
+"I want to see Miss Horn, gien ye please," he answered.
+
+"I s' warran' she'll be in her bed an' snorin'," said Jean; "but
+I s' gang an' see."
+
+Ere she went, however, Jean saw that the kitchen door was closed,
+for, whether she belonged to the class "honest folk" or not, Mrs
+Catanach was in Miss Horn's kitchen, and not in her nightcap.
+
+Jean returned presently with an invitation for Malcolm to walk up
+to the parlour.
+
+"I hae gotten a sma' mishanter, Miss Horn," he said, as he entered:
+"an I thocht I cudna du better than come to you, 'cause ye can haud
+yer tongue, an' that's mair nor mony ane the port o' Portlossie
+can, mem."
+
+The compliment, correct in fact as well as honest in intent, was
+not thrown away on Miss Horn, to whom it was the more pleasing
+that she could regard it as a just tribute. Malcolm told her all
+the story, rousing thereby a mighty indignation in her bosom, a
+great fire in her hawk nose, and a succession of wild flashes in
+her hawk eyes; but when he showed her his hand,
+
+"Lord, Malcolm!" she cried; "it 's a mercy I was made wantin'
+feelin's, or I cudna hae bed the sicht. My puir bairn!"
+
+Then she rushed to the stair and shouted,
+
+"Jean, ye limmer! Jean! Fess some het watter, an' some linen cloots."
+
+"I hae nane o' naither," replied Jean from the bottom of the stair.
+
+"Mak up the fire an' put on some watter direckly.--I s' fin' some
+clooties," she added, turning to Malcolm, "gien I sud rive the
+tail frae my best Sunday sark."
+
+She returned with rags enough for a small hospital, and until the
+grumbling Jean brought the hot water, they sat and talked in the
+glimmering light of one long beaked tallow candle.
+
+"It's a terrible hoose, yon o' Lossie," said Miss Horn; "and there's
+been terrible things dune intill't. The auld markis was an ill man.
+I daurna say what he wadna hae dune, gien half the tales be true
+'at they tell o' 'im; an' the last ane was little better. This
+ane winna be sae ill, but it 's clear 'at he's tarred wi' the same
+stick."
+
+"I dinna think he means onything muckle amiss," agreed Malcolm,
+whose wrath had by this time subsided a little, through the quieting
+influences of Miss Horn's sympathy. "He's mair thouchtless, I do
+believe, than ill contrived--an' a' for 's fun. He spak unco kin'
+like to me, efterhin, but I cudna accep' it, ye see, efter the w'y
+he had saired my daddy. But wadna ye hae thoucht he was auld eneuch
+to ken better by this time?"
+
+"An auld fule 's the warst fule ava'," said Miss Horn. "But naething
+o' that kin', be 't as mad an' pranksome as ever sic ploy could be,
+is to be made mention o' aside the things at was mutit (muttered)
+o' 's brither. I budena come ower them till a young laad like
+yersel'. They war never said straucht oot, min' ye, but jist mintit
+at, like, wi' a doon draw o' the broos, an' a wee side shak o' the
+heid, as gien the body wad say, 'I cud tell ye gien I daur.' But
+I doobt mysel' gien onything was kent, though muckle was mair nor
+suspeckit. An' whaur there's reik, there maun be fire."
+
+As she spoke she was doing her best, with many expressions of pity,
+for his hand. When she had bathed and bound it up, and laid it in
+a sling, he wished her goodnight.
+
+Arrived at home he found, to his dismay, that things had not been
+going well. Indeed, while yet several houses off he had heard the
+voices of the Partan's wife and his grandfather in fierce dispute.
+The old man was beside himself with anxiety about Malcolm; and the
+woman, instead of soothing him, was opposing everything he said,
+and irritating him frightfully. The moment he entered, each opened
+a torrent of accusations against the other, and it was with difficulty
+that Malcolm prevailed on the woman to go home. The presence of his
+boy soon calmed the old man, however, and he fell into a troubled
+sleep--in which Malcolm, who sat by his bed all night, heard
+him, at intervals, now lamenting over the murdered of Glenco, now
+exulting in a stab that had reached the heart of Glenlyon, and now
+bewailing his ruined bagpipes. At length towards morning he grew
+quieter, and Malcolm fell asleep in his chair.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX: ADVANCES
+
+
+When he woke, Duncan still slept, and Malcolm having got ready some
+tea for his grandfather's, and a little brose for his own breakfast,
+sat down again by the bedside, and awaited the old man's waking. The
+first sign of it that reached him was the feebly uttered question,
+--"Will ta tog be tead, Malcolm?"
+
+"As sure 's ye stabbit him," answered Malcolm.
+
+"Then she'll pe getting herself ready," said Duncan, making a
+motion to rise.
+
+"What for, daddy?"
+
+"For ta hanging, my son," answered Duncan coolly.
+
+"Time eneuch for that, daddy, whan they sen' to tell ye," returned
+Malcolm, cautious of revealing the facts of the case.
+
+"Ferry coot!" said Duncan, and fell asleep again.
+
+In a little while he woke with a start.
+
+"she'll be hafing an efil tream, my son Malcolm," he said; "or it
+was 'll pe more than a tream. Cawmill of Clenlyon, Cod curse him!
+came to her pedside; and he'll say to her, 'MacDhonuill,' he said,
+for pein' a tead man he would pe knowing my name,--'MacDhonuill,'
+he said, 'what tid you'll pe meaning py turking my posterity?' And
+she answered and said to him, 'I pray it had peen yourself, you
+tamned Clenlyon.' And he said to me, 'It 'll pe no coot wishing tat;
+it would be toing you no coot to turk me, for  a tead man.'--
+'And a tamned man,' says herself, and would haf taken him py ta
+troat, put she couldn't mofe. 'Well,  not so sure of tat,' says
+he, 'for I 'fe pecked all teir partons.'--'And tid tey gif tem
+to you, you tog?' says herself.--'Well,  not sure,' says he;
+'anyhow,  not tamned fery much yet.'--'She'll pe much sorry
+to hear it,' says herself. And she took care aalways to pe calling
+him some paad name, so tat he shouldn't say she'll be forgifing
+him, whatever ta rest of tem might be toing. 'Put what troubles
+me,' says he, 'it 'll not pe apout myself at aall.'--'Tat 'll
+pe a wonter,' says her nain sel': 'and what may it pe apout, you
+cuttroat?'--'It 'll pe apout yourself,' says he. 'Apout herself?'
+--'Yes; apout yourself' says he. ' sorry for you--for ta ting
+tat's to pe tone with him tat killed a man aal pecaase he pore my
+name, and he wasn't a son of mine at aall! Tere is no pot in hell
+teep enough to put him in!'--'Ten tey must make haste and tig
+one,' says herself; 'for she'll pe hangt in a tay or two.'--So
+she'll wake up, and beholt it was a tream!"
+
+"An' no sic an ill dream efter a', daddy!" said Malcolm.
+
+"Not an efil tream, my son, when it makes her aalmost wish that
+she hadn't peen quite killing ta tog! Last night she would haf made
+a puoy of his skin like any other tog's skin, and totay--no, my
+son, it wass a fery efil tream. And to be tolt tat ta creat tefil,
+Clenlyon herself, was not fery much tamned!--it wass a fery efil
+tream, my son."
+
+"Weel, daddy--maybe ye 'll tak it for ill news, but ye killed
+naebody."
+
+"Tid she'll not trive her turk into ta tog?" cried Duncan fiercely.
+"Och hone! och hone!--Then she's ashamed of herself for efer,
+when she might have tone it. And it 'll hafe to be tone yet!"
+
+He paused a few moments, and then resumed:
+
+"And she'll not pe coing to be hangt?--Maype tat will pe petter,
+for you wouldn't hafe liket to see your olt cranfather to pe hangt,
+Malcolm, my son. Not tat she would hafe minted it herself in such
+a coot caause, Malcolm! Put she tidn't pe fery happy after she
+tid think she had tone it, for you see he wasn't ta fery man his
+ownself, and tat must pe counted. But she tid kill something: what
+was it, Malcolm?"
+
+"Ye sent a gran' dish fleein'," answered Malcolm. "I s' warran' it
+cost a poun', to jeedge by the gowd upo' 't."
+
+"She'll hear a noise of preaking; put she tid stap something soft."
+
+"Ye stack yer durk intill my lord's mahogany table," said Malcolm.
+"It nott (needed) a guid rug (pull) to haul't oot."
+
+"Then her arm has not lost aal its strength, Malcolm! I pray ta
+taple had peen ta rips of Clenlyon!"
+
+"Ye maunna pray nae sic prayers, daddy. Min' upo' what Glenlyon said
+to ye last nicht. Gien I was you I wadna hae a pot howkit express
+for mysel'--doon yonner--i' yon place 'at ye dreamed aboot."
+
+"Well, I'll forgife him a little, Malcolm--not ta one tat's
+tead, but ta one tat tidn't do it, you know.--Put how will she
+pe forgifing him for ripping her poor pag? Och hone! och hone!
+No more musics for her tying tays, Malcolm! Och hone! och hone! I
+shall co creeping to ta crafe with no loud noises to defy ta enemy.
+Her pipes is tumb for efer and efer. Och hone! och hone!"
+
+The lengthening of his days had restored bitterness to his loss.
+
+"I'll sune set the bag richt, daddy. Or, gien I canna du that,
+we'll get a new ane. Mony a pibroch 'll come skirlin' oot o' that
+chanter yet er' a' be dune."
+
+They were interrupted by the unceremonious entrance of the same
+footman who had brought the invitation. He carried a magnificent
+set of ebony pipes, with silver mountings.
+
+"A present from my lord, the marquis," he said bumptiously, almost
+rudely, and laid them on the table.
+
+"Dinna lay them there; tak them frae that, or I'll fling them yer
+poothered wig," said Malcolm. "--It's a stan' o' pipes," he added,
+"an' that a gran' ane, daddy."
+
+"Take tem away!" cried the old man, in a voice too feeble to support
+the load of indignation it bore. "She'll pe taking no presents from
+marquis or tuke tat would pe teceifing old Tuncan, and making him
+trink with ta cursed Clenlyon. Tell ta marquis he 'll pe sending
+her cray hairs with sorrow to ta crafe; for she'll pe tishonoured
+for efer and henceforth."
+
+Probably pleased to be the bearer of a message fraught with so much
+amusement, the man departed in silence with the pipes.
+
+The marquis, although the joke had threatened, and indeed so far
+taken a serious turn, had yet been thoroughly satisfied with its
+success. The rage of the old man had been to his eyes ludicrous
+in the extreme, and the anger of the young one so manly as to be
+even picturesque. He had even made a resolve, half dreamy and of
+altogether improbable execution, to do something for the fisher
+fellow.
+
+The pipes which he had sent as a solatium to Duncan, were a set
+that belonged to the house--ancient, and in the eyes of either
+connoisseur or antiquarian, exceedingly valuable; but the marquis
+was neither the one nor the other, and did not in the least mind
+parting with them. As little did he doubt a propitiation through
+their means, was utterly unprepared for a refusal of his gift, and
+was nearly as much perplexed as annoyed thereat.
+
+For one thing, he could not understand such offence taken by one
+in Duncan's lowly position; for although he had plenty of highland
+blood in his own veins, he had never lived in the Highlands, and
+understood nothing of the habits or feelings of the Gael. What was
+noble in him, however, did feel somewhat rebuked, and he was even
+a little sorry at having raised a barrier between himself and the
+manly young fisherman, to whom he had taken a sort of liking from
+the first.
+
+Of the ladies in the drawing room, to whom he had recounted the
+vastly amusing joke with all the graphic delineation for which he
+had been admired at court, none, although they all laughed, had
+appeared to enjoy the bad recital thoroughly, except the bold faced
+countess. Lady Florimel regarded the affair as undignified at the
+best, was sorry for the old man, who must be mad, she thought,
+and was pleased only with the praises of her squire of low degree.
+The wound in his hand the marquis either thought too trifling to
+mention, or serious enough to have clouded the clear sky of frolic
+under which he desired the whole transaction to be viewed.
+
+They were seated at their late breakfast when the lackey passed
+the window on his return from his unsuccessful mission, and the
+marquis happened to see him, carrying the rejected pipes. He sent
+for him, and heard his report, then with a quick nod dismissed him
+--his way when angry, and sat silent.
+
+"Wasn't it spirited--in such poor people too?" said Lady Florimel,
+the colour rising in her face, and her eyes sparkling.
+
+"It was damned impudent," said the marquis.
+
+"I think it was damned dignified," said Lady Florimel.
+
+The marquis stared. The visitors, after a momentary silence, burst
+into a great laugh.
+
+"I wanted to see," said Lady Florimel calmly, "whether I couldn't
+swear if I tried. I don't think it tastes nice. I shan't take to
+it, I think."
+
+"You'd better not in my presence, my lady," said the marquis, his
+eyes sparkling with fun.
+
+"I shall certainly not do it out of your presence, my lord," she
+returned. "--Now I think of it," she went on, "I know what I will
+do: every time you say a bad word in my presence, I shall say it
+after you. I shan't mind who's there--parson or magistrate. Now
+you'll see."
+
+"You will get into the habit of it."
+
+"Except you get out of the habit of it first, papa," said the girl,
+laughing merrily.
+
+"You confounded little Amazon!" said her father.
+
+"But what's to be done about those confounded pipes?" she resumed.
+"You can't allow such people to serve you so! Return your presents,
+indeed! Suppose I undertake the business?"
+
+"By all means. What will you do?"
+
+"Make them take them, of course. It would be quite horrible never
+to be quits with the old lunatic."
+
+"As you please, puss."
+
+"Then you put yourself in my hands, papa?"
+
+"Yes; only you must mind what you're about, you know."
+
+"That I will, and make them mind too," she answered, and the subject
+was dropped.
+
+Lady Florimel counted upon her influence with Malcolm, and his
+again with his grandfather; but careful of her dignity, she would
+not make direct advances; she would wait an opportunity of speaking
+to him. But, although she visited the sand hill almost every
+morning, an opportunity was not afforded her. Meanwhile, the state
+of Duncan's bag and of Malcolm's hand forbidding, neither pipes
+were played nor gun was fired to arouse marquis or burgess. When
+a fortnight had thus passed, Lady Florimel grew anxious concerning
+the justification of her boast, and the more so that her father
+seemed to avoid all reference to it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI: MEDIATION
+
+
+At length it was clear to Lady Florimel that if her father had not
+forgotten her undertaking, but was, as she believed, expecting from
+her some able stroke of diplomacy, it was high time that something
+should be done to save her credit. Nor did she forget that the
+unpiped silence of the royal burgh was the memento of a practical
+joke of her father, so cruel that a piper would not accept the
+handsome propitiation offered on its account by a marquis.
+
+On a lovely evening, therefore, the sunlight lying slant on waters
+that heaved and sunk in a flowing tide, now catching the gold on
+lifted crests, now losing it in purple hollows, Lady Florimel found
+herself for the first time, walking from the lower gate towards
+the Seaton. Rounding the west end of the village, she came to the
+sea front, where, encountering a group of children, she requested
+to be shown the blind piper's cottage. Ten of them started at once
+to lead the way, and she was presently knocking at the half open
+door, through which she could not help seeing the two at their
+supper of dry oat cake and still drier skim milk cheese, with a
+jug of cold water to wash it down. Neither, having just left the
+gentlemen at their wine, could she help feeling the contrast between
+the dinner just over at the House and the meal she now beheld.
+
+At the sound of her knock, Malcolm, who was seated with his back
+to the door, rose to answer the appeal;--the moment he saw her,
+the blood rose from his heart to his cheek in similar response.
+He opened the door wide, and in low, something tremulous tones,
+invited her to enter; then caught up a chair, dusted it with his
+bonnet, and placed it for her by the window, where a red ray of
+the setting sun fell on a huge flowered hydrangea. Her quick eye
+caught sight of his bound up hand.
+
+"How have you hurt your hand?" she asked kindly.
+
+Malcolm made signs that prayed for silence, and pointed to his
+grandfather. But it was too late.
+
+"Hurt your hand, Malcolm, my son," cried Duncan, with surprise
+and anxiety mingled. "How will you pe toing tat?"
+
+"Here's a bonny yoong leddy come to see ye, daddy," said Malcolm,
+seeking to turn the question aside.
+
+"She'll pe fery clad to see ta ponny young laty, and she's creatly
+obleeched for ta honour: put if ta ponny young laty will pe excusing
+her--what'll pe hurting your hand, Malcolm!"
+
+"I'll tell ye efterhin, daddy. This is my Leddy Florimel, frae the
+Hoose."
+
+"Hm!" said Duncan, the pain of his insult keenly renewed by the
+mere mention of the scene of it. "Put," he went on, continuing
+aloud the reflections of a moment of silence, "she'll pe a laty,
+and it 's not to pe laid to her charch. Sit town, my laty. Ta poor
+place is your own."
+
+But Lady Florimel was already seated, and busy in her mind as
+to how she could best enter on the object of her visit. The piper
+sat silent, revolving a painful suspicion with regard to Malcolm's
+hurt.
+
+"So you won't forgive my father, Mr MacPhail?" said Lady Florimel.
+
+"She would forgife any man put two men," he answered, "--Clenlyon,
+and ta man, whoefer he might pe, who would put upon her ta tiscrace
+of trinking in his company."
+
+"But you're quite mistaken," said Lady Florimel, in a pleading
+tone. "I don't believe my father knows the gentleman you speak of."
+
+"Chentleman!" echoed Duncan. "He is a tog!--No, he is no tog:
+togs is coot. He is a mongrel of a fox and a volf!"
+
+"There was no Campbell at our table that evening," persisted Lady
+Florimel.
+
+"Ten who tolt Tuncan MacPhail a lie!"
+
+"It was nothing but a joke--indeed!" said the girl, beginning to
+feel humiliated.
+
+"It wass a paad choke, and might have peen ta hanging of poor
+Tuncan," said the piper.
+
+Now Lady Florimel had heard a rumour of some one having been, hurt
+in the affair of the joke, and her quick wits instantly brought
+that and Malcolm's hand together.
+
+"It might have been," she said, risking a miss for the advantage.
+"It was well that you hurt nobody but your own grandson."
+
+"Oh, my leddy!" cried Malcolm with despairing remonstrance; "--an'
+me haudin' 't frae him a' this time! Ye sud ha' considert an auld
+man's feelin's! He's as blin' 's a mole, my leddy!"
+
+"His feelings!" retorted the girl angrily. "He ought to know the
+mischief he does in his foolish rages."
+
+Duncan had risen, and was now feeling his way across the room.
+Having reached his grandson, he laid hold of his head and pressed
+it to his bosom.
+
+"Malcolm!" he said, in a broken and hollow voice, not to be recognized
+as his, "Malcolm, my eagle of the crag! my hart of the heather!
+was it yourself she stapped with her efil hand, my son? Tid she'll
+pe hurting her own poy!--She'll nefer wear turk more. Och hone!
+Och hone!"
+
+He turned, and, with bowed head seeking his chair, seated himself
+and wept.
+
+Lady Florimel's anger vanished. She was by his side in a moment,
+with her lovely young hand on the bony expanse of his, as it covered
+his face. On the other side, Malcolm laid his lips to his ear, and
+whispered with soothing expostulation,--
+
+"It's maist as weel 's ever daddy. It's nane the waur. It was but
+a bit o' a scart. It's nae worth twise thinkin' o'."
+
+"Ta turk went trough it, Malcolm! It went into ta table! She knows
+now! O Malcolm! Malcolm! would to Cod she had killed herself pefore
+she hurted her poy!"
+
+He made Malcolm sit down beside him, and taking the wounded hand
+in both of his, sunk into a deep silence, utterly forgetful of the
+presence of Lady Florimel, who retired to her chair, kept silence
+also, and waited.
+
+"It was not a coot choke," he murmured at length, "upon an honest
+man, and might pe calling herself a chentleman. A rache is not a
+choke. To put her in a rache was not coot. See to it. And it was
+a ferry paad choke, too, to make a pig hole in her poor pag! Och
+hone! och hone!--Put  clad Clenlyon was not there, for she
+was too plind to kill him."
+
+"But you will surely forgive my father, when he wants to make it
+up! Those pipes have been in the family for hundreds of years,"
+said Florimel.
+
+"Her own pipes has peen in her own family for five or six chenerations
+at least," said Duncan. "--And she was wondering why her poy tidn't
+pe mending her pag! My poor poy! Och hone! Och hone!"
+
+"We'll get a new bag, daddy," said Malcolm. "It's been lang past
+men'in' wi' auld age."
+
+"And then you will be able to play together," urged Lady Florimel.
+
+Duncan's resolution was visibly shaken by the suggestion. He pondered
+for a while. At last he opened his mouth solemnly, and said, with
+the air of one who had found a way out of a hitherto impassable
+jungle of difficulty:
+
+"If her lord marquis will come to Tuncan's house, and say to Tuncan
+it was put a choke and he is sorry for it, then Tuncan will shake
+hands with ta marquis, and take ta pipes."
+
+A smile of pleasure lighted up Malcolm's face at the proud proposal.
+Lady Florimel smiled also, but with amusement.
+
+"Will my laty take Tuncan's message to my lord, ta marquis?" asked
+the old man.
+
+Now Lady Florimel had inherited her father's joy in teasing; and the
+thought of carrying him such an overture was irresistibly delightful.
+
+"I will take it," she said. "But what if he should be angry?"
+
+"If her lord pe angry, Tuncan is angry too," answered the piper.
+
+Malcolm followed Lady Florimel to the door.
+
+"Put it as saft as ye can, my leddy," he whispered. "I canna bide
+to anger fowk mair than maun be."
+
+"I shall give the message precisely as your grandfather gave it to
+me," said Florimel, and walked away.
+
+While they sat at dinner the next evening, she told her father
+from the head of the table, all about her visit to the piper, and
+ended with the announcement of the condition--word for word--
+on which the old man would consent to a reconciliation.
+
+Could such a proposal have come from an equal whom he had insulted,
+the marquis would hardly have waited for a challenge: to have done
+a wrong was nothing; to confess it would be disgrace. But here the
+offended party was of such ludicrously low condition, and the proposal
+therefore so ridiculous, that it struck the marquis merely as a
+yet more amusing prolongation of the joke. Hence his reception of
+it was with uproarious laughter, in which all his visitors joined.
+
+"Damn the old windbag!" said the marquis.
+
+"Damn the knife that made the mischief," said Lady Florimel.
+
+When the merriment had somewhat subsided, Lord Meikleham, the youth
+of soldierly aspect, would have proposed whipping the highland
+beggar, he said, were it not for the probability the old clothes
+horse would fall to pieces; whereupon Lady Florimel recommended him
+to try it on the young fisherman, who might possibly hold together;
+whereat the young lord looked both mortified and spiteful.
+
+I believe some compunction, perhaps even admiration, mingled itself,
+in this case, with Lord Lossie's relish of an odd and amusing
+situation, and that he was inclined to compliance with the conditions
+of atonement, partly for the sake of mollifying the wounded spirit
+of the highlander. He turned to his daughter and said,--
+
+"Did you fix an hour, Flory, for your poor father to make amende
+honorable?"
+
+"No, papa; I did not go so far as that."
+
+The marquis kept a few moments' grave silence.
+
+"Your lordship is surely not meditating such a solecism?" said Mr
+Morrison, the justice laird.
+
+"Indeed I am," said the marquis.
+
+"It would be too great a condescension," said Mr Cavins; "and your
+lordship will permit me to doubt the wisdom of it. These fishermen
+form a class by themselves; they are a rough set of men, and only
+too ready to despise authority. You will not only injure the prestige
+of your rank, my lord, but expose yourself to endless imposition."
+
+"The spirit moves me, and we are commanded not to quench the
+spirit," rejoined the marquis with a merry laugh, little thinking
+that he was actually describing what was going on in him-that the
+spirit of good concerning which he jested, was indeed not working
+in him, but gaining on him, in his resolution of that moment.
+
+"Come, Flory," said the marquis, to whom it gave a distinct pleasure
+to fly in the face of advice, "we'll go at once, and have it over."
+
+So they set out together for the Seaton, followed by the bagpipes,
+carried by the same servant as before, and were received by the
+overjoyed Malcolm, and ushered into his grandfather's presence.
+
+Whatever may have been the projected attitude of the marquis, the
+moment he stood on the piper's floor, the generous, that is the
+gentleman, in him, got the upper hand, and his behaviour to the
+old man was not polite merely, but respectful. At no period in the
+last twenty years had he been so nigh the kingdom of heaven as he
+was now when making his peace with the blind piper.
+
+When Duncan heard his voice, he rose with dignity and made a
+stride or two towards the door, stretching forth his long arm to
+its full length, and spreading wide his great hand with the brown
+palm upwards:
+
+"Her nainsel will pe proud to see my lord ta marquis under her
+roof;" he said.
+
+The visit itself had already sufficed to banish all resentment from
+his soul.
+
+The marquis took the proffered hand kindly:
+
+"I have come to apologise," he said.
+
+"Not one vord more, my lort, I peg," interrupted Duncan. "My lort
+is come, out of his cootness, to pring her a creat kift; for he'll
+pe hearing of ta sad accident which pefell her poor pipes one
+efening lately. Tey was ferry old, my lort, and easily hurt."
+
+"I am sorry--" said the marquis--but again Duncan interrupted
+him.
+
+"I am clad, my lort," he said, "for it prings me ta creat choy.
+If my lady and your lordship will honour her poor house py sitting
+town, she will haf ta pleasure of pe offering tem a little music."
+
+His hospitality would give them of the best he had; but ere the
+entertainment was over, the marquis judged himself more than fairly
+punished by the pipes for all the wrong he had done the piper.
+
+They sat down, and, at a sign from his lordship, the servant placed
+his charge in Duncan's hands, and retired. The piper received the
+instrument with a proud gesture of gratification, felt it all over,
+screwed at this and that for a moment, then filled the great bag
+gloriously full. The next instant a scream invaded the astonished
+air fit to rival the skirl produced by the towzie tyke of Kirk
+Alloway; another instant, and the piper was on his legs, as full
+of pleasure and pride as his bag of wind, strutting up and down
+the narrow chamber like a turkey cock before his hens, and turning
+ever, after precisely so many strides, with a grand gesture and
+mighty sweep, as if he too had a glorious tail to mind, and was
+bound to keep it ceaselessly quivering to the tremor of the reed
+in the throat of his chanter.
+
+Malcolm, erect behind their visitors, gazed with admiring eyes
+at every motion of his grandfather. To one who had from earliest
+infancy looked up to him with reverence, there was nothing
+ridiculous in the display, in the strut, in all that to other eyes
+too evidently revealed the vanity of the piper: Malcolm regarded
+it all only as making up the orthodox mode of playing the pipes.
+It was indeed well that he could not see the expression upon the
+faces of those behind whose chairs he stood, while for moments that
+must have seemed minutes, they succumbed to the wild uproar which
+issued from those splendid pipes. On an opposite hillside, with a
+valley between, it would have sounded poetic; in a charging regiment,
+none could have wished for more inspiriting battle strains; even in
+a great hall, inspiring and guiding the merry reel, it might have
+been in place and welcome; but in a room of ten feet by twelve,
+with a wooden ceiling, acting like a drumhead, at the height of
+seven feet and a half!--It was little below torture to the marquis
+and Lady Florimel. Simultaneously they rose to make their escape.
+
+"My lord an' my leddy maun be gauin', daddy," cried Malcolm.
+
+Absorbed in the sound which his lungs created and his fingers
+modulated, the piper had forgotten all about his visitors; but the
+moment his grandson's voice reached him, the tumult ceased; he took
+the port vent from his lips, and with sightless eyes turned full
+on Lord Lossie, said in a low earnest voice,--
+
+"My lort, she'll pe ta craandest staand o' pipes she efer blew,
+and proud and thankful she'll pe to her lort marquis, and to ta Lort
+of lorts, for ta kift. Ta pipes shall co town from cheneration to
+cheneration to ta ent of time; yes, my lort, until ta loud cry of
+tem pe trownt in ta roar of ta trump of ta creat archanchel, when
+he'll pe setting one foot on ta laand and ta other foot upon ta
+sea, and Clenlyon shall pe cast into ta lake of fire."
+
+He ended with a low bow. They shook hands with him, thanked him for
+his music, wished him goodnight, and, with a kind nod to Malcolm,
+left the cottage.
+
+Duncan resumed his playing the moment they were out of the house,
+and Malcolm, satisfied of his well being for a couple of hours at
+least--he had been music starved so long, went also out, in quest
+of a little solitude.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII: WHENCE AND WHITHER?
+
+
+He wandered along the shore on the land side of the mound, with a
+favourite old book of Scottish ballads in his hand, every now and
+then stooping to gather a sea anemone--a white flower something
+like a wild geranium, with a faint sweet smell, or a small, short
+stalked harebell, or a red daisy, as large as a small primrose; for
+along the coast there, on cliff or in sand, on rock or in field,
+the daisies are remarkable for size, and often not merely tipped,
+but dyed throughout with a deep red.
+
+He had gathered a bunch of the finest, and had thrown himself down
+on the side of the dune, whence, as he lay, only the high road, the
+park wall, the temple of the winds, and the blue sky were visible.
+The vast sea, for all the eye could tell, was nowhere--not a
+ripple of it was to be seen, but the ear was filled with the night
+gush and flow of it. A sweet wind was blowing, hardly blowing,
+rather gliding, like a slumbering river, from the west. The sun
+had vanished, leaving a ruin of gold and rose behind him, gradually
+fading into dull orange and lead and blue sky and stars. There was
+light enough to read by, but he never opened his book. He was thinking
+over something Mr Graham had said to him a few days before, namely,
+that all impatience of monotony, all weariness of best things even,
+are but signs of the eternity of our nature--the broken human
+fashions of the divine everlastingness.
+
+"I dinna ken whaur it comes frae," said a voice above him.
+
+He looked up. On the ridge of the mound, the whole of his dwarfed
+form relieved against the sky and looking large in the twilight,
+stood the mad laird, reaching out his forehead towards the west
+with his arms expanded as if to meet the ever coming wind.
+
+"Naebody kens whaur the win' comes frae, or whaur it gangs till,"
+said Malcolm. "Ye're no a hair waur aff nor ither fowk, there,
+laird."
+
+"Does't come frae a guid place, or frae an ill?" said the laird,
+doubtingly.
+
+"It's saft an' kin'ly i' the fin' o' 't," returned Malcolm suggestively,
+rising and joining the laird on the top of the dune, and like him
+spreading himself out to the western air.
+
+The twilight had deepened, merging into such night as the summer
+in that region knows--a sweet pale memory of the past day. The
+sky was full of sparkles of pale gold in a fathomless blue; there
+was no moon; the darker sea lay quiet below, with only a murmur
+about its lip, and fitfully reflected the stars. The soft wind kept
+softly blowing. Behind them shone a light at the harbour's mouth,
+and a twinkling was here and there visible in the town above; but
+all was as still as if there were no life save in the wind and the
+sea and the stars. The whole feeling was as if something had been
+finished in heaven, and the outmost ripples of the following rest
+had overflowed and were now pulsing faintly and dreamily across
+the bosom of the labouring earth, with feeblest suggestion of the
+mighty peace beyond. Alas, words can do so little! even such a
+night is infinite.
+
+"Ay," answered the laird; "but it maks me dowfart (melancholy)
+like, i' the inside."
+
+"Some o' the best things does that," said Malcolm. "I think a kiss
+frae my mither wad gar me greet."
+
+He knew the laird's peculiarities well; but in the thought of his
+mother had forgotten the antipathy of his companion to the word.
+Stewart gave a moaning cry, put his fingers in his ears, and glided
+down the slope of the dune seawards.
+
+Malcolm was greatly distressed. He had a regard for the laird far
+beyond pity, and could not bear the thought of having inadvertently
+caused him pain. But he dared not follow him, for that would be but
+to heighten the anguish of the tortured mind and the suffering of
+the sickly frame; for, when pursued, he would accomplish a short
+distance at an incredible speed, then drop suddenly and lie like one
+dead. Malcolm, therefore, threw off his heavy boots, and starting
+at full speed along the other side of the dune, made for the bored
+craig; his object being to outrun the laird without being seen by
+him, and so, doubling the rock, return with leisurely steps, and
+meet him. Sweetly the west wind whistled about his head as he ran.
+In a few moments he had rounded the rock, towards which the laird
+was still running, but now more slowly. The tide was high and came
+near its foot, leaving but a few yards of passage between, in which
+space they approached each other, Malcolm with sauntering step
+as if strolling homewards. Lifting his bonnet, a token of respect
+he never omitted when he met the mad laird, he stood aside in the
+narrow way. Mr Stewart stopped abruptly, took his fingers from his
+ears, and stared in perplexity.
+
+"It's a richt bonny nicht, laird," said Malcolm.
+
+The poor fellow looked hurriedly behind him, then stared again,
+then made gestures backward, and next pointed at Malcolm with rapid
+pokes of his forefinger. Bewilderment had brought on the impediment
+in his speech, and all Malcolm could distinguish in the babbling
+efforts at utterance which followed, were the words,--"Twa o'
+them! Twa o' them! Twa o' them!" often and hurriedly repeated.
+
+"It's a fine, saft sleekit win,' laird," said Malcolm, as if they
+were meeting for the first time that night. "I think it maun come
+frae the blue there, ayont the stars. There's a heap o' wonnerfu'
+things there, they tell me; an' whiles a strokin win' an' whiles
+a rosy smell, an' whiles a bricht licht, an' whiles, they say, an
+auld yearnin' sang, 'ill brak oot, an' wanner awa doon, an' gang
+flittin' an' fleein' amang the sair herts o' the men an' women fowk
+'at canna get things putten richt."
+
+"I think there are two fools of them!" said the marquis, referring
+to the words of the laird.
+
+He was seated with Lady Florimel on the town side of the rock,
+hidden from them by one sharp corner. They had seen the mad laird
+coming, and had recognised Malcolm's voice.
+
+"I dinna ken whaur I come frae," burst from the laird, the word
+whaur drawn out and emphasized almost to a howl; and as he spoke he
+moved on again, but gently now, towards the rocks of the Scaurnose.
+Anxious to get him thoroughly soothed before they parted, Malcolm
+accompanied him. They walked a little way side by side in silence,
+the laird every now and then heaving his head like a fretted horse
+towards the sky, as if he sought to shake the heavy burden from his
+back, straighten out his poor twisted spine, and stand erect like
+his companion:
+
+"Ay!" Malcolm began again, as if he had in the meantime been thinking
+over the question, and was now assured upon it, "--the win' maun
+come frae yont the stars; for dinna ye min', laird? Ye was at the
+kirk last Sunday--wasna ye?"
+
+The laird nodded an affirmative, and Malcolm went on.
+
+"An' didna ye hear the minister read frae the buik 'at hoo ilka
+guid an' ilka perfit gift was frae abune, an' cam frae the Father
+o' lichts?"
+
+"Father o' lichts!" repeated the laird, and looked up at the stars.
+"I dinna ken whaur I cam frae. I hae nae father. I hae only a ...
+I hae only a wuman."
+
+The moment he had said the word, he began to move his head from
+side to side like a scared animal seeking where to conceal itself.
+
+"The Father o' lichts is your father an' mine--The Father o' a'
+o' 's," said Malcolm.
+
+"O' a' guid fowk, I daursay," said the laird, with a deep and
+quivering sigh.
+
+"Mr Graham says--o' a'body," returned Malcolm, "guid an' ill;
+--o' the guid to haud them guid an' mak them better--o' the ill
+to mak them guid."
+
+"Eh! gien that war true!" said the laird.
+
+They walked on in silence for a minute. All at once the laird threw
+up his hands, and fell flat on his face on the sand, his poor hump
+rising skywards above his head. Malcolm thought he had been seized
+with one of the fits to which he was subject, and knelt down beside
+him, to see if he could do anything for him. Then he found he was
+praying: he heard him--he could but just hear him--murmuring over
+and over, all but inaudibly, "Father o' lichts! Father o' lichts!
+Father o' lichts!" It seemed as if no other word dared mingle itself
+with that cry. Maniac or not--the mood of the man was supremely
+sane, and altogether too sacred to disturb. Malcolm retreated
+a little way, sat down in the sand and watched beside him. It was
+a solemn time--the full tide lapping up on the long yellow sand
+from the wide sea darkening out to the dim horizon: the gentle
+wind blowing through the molten darkness; overhead, the great vault
+without arch or keystone, of dim liquid blue, and sown with worlds
+so far removed they could only shine; and, on the shore, the centre
+of all the cosmic order, a misshapen heap of man, a tumulus in which
+lay buried a live and lovely soul! The one pillar of its chapter
+house had given way, and the downrushing ruin had so crushed
+and distorted it, that thenceforth until some resurrection should
+arrive, disorder and misshape must appear to it the law of the
+universe, and loveliness but the passing dream of a brain glad to
+deceive its own misery, and so to fancy it had received from above
+what it had itself generated of its own poverty from below. To
+the mind's eye of Malcolm, the little hump on the sand was heaved
+to the stars, higher than ever Roman tomb or Egyptian pyramid,
+in silent appeal to the sweet heavens, a dumb prayer for pity, a
+visible groan for the resurrection of the body. For a few minutes
+he sat as still as the prostrate laird.
+
+But bethinking himself that his grandfather would not go to bed until
+he went back, also that the laird was in no danger, as the tide
+was now receding, he resolved to go and get the old man to bed,
+and then return. For somehow he felt in his heart that he ought
+not to leave him alone. He could not enter into his strife to aid
+him, or come near him in any closer way than watching by his side
+until his morning dawned, or at least the waters of his flood
+assuaged, yet what he could he must: he would wake with him in his
+conflict.
+
+He rose and ran for the bored craig, through which lay the straight
+line to his abandoned boots.
+
+As he approached the rock, he heard the voices of Lord Lossie
+and Lady Florimel, who, although the one had not yet verified her
+being, the other had almost ruined his, were nevertheless enjoying
+the same thing, the sweetness of the night, together. Not hearing
+Malcolm's approach, they went on talking, and as he was passing
+swiftly through the bore, he heard these words from the marquis,
+--"The world's an ill baked cake, Flory, and all that a woman, at
+least, can do, is to cut as large a piece of it as possible, for
+immediate use."
+
+The remark being a general one, Malcolm cannot be much blamed if
+he stood with one foot lifted to hear Florimel's reply.
+
+"If it 's an ill baked one, papa," she returned, "I think it would
+be better to cut as small a piece of it as will serve for immediate
+use."
+
+Malcolm was delighted with her answer, never thinking whether it
+came from her head or her heart, for the two were at one in himself.
+
+As soon as he appeared on the other side of the rock, the marquis
+challenged him: "Who goes there?" he said.
+
+"Malcolm MacPhail, my lord."
+
+"You rascal!" said his lordship, good humouredly; "you've been
+listening!"
+
+"No muckle, my lord. I heard but a word apiece. An' I maun say my
+leddy had the best o' the loagic."
+
+"My lady generally has, I suspect," laughed the marquis. "How long
+have you been in the rock there?"
+
+"No ae meenute, my lord. I flang aff my butes to rin efter a
+freen', an' that's hoo ye didna hear me come up.  gaein' efter
+them noo, to gang hame i' them. Guid nicht, my lord. Guid nicht,
+my leddy."
+
+He turned and pursued his way; but Florimel's face, glimmering
+through the night, went with him as he ran.
+
+He told his grandfather how he had left the mad laird lying on his
+face, on the sands between the bored craig and the rocks of the
+promontory, and said he would like to go back to him.
+
+"He'll be hafing a fit, poor man," said Duncan. "Yes, my son, you
+must co to him and to your pest for him. After such an honour as
+we 'fe had this day, we mustn't pe forgetting our poor neighpours.
+Will you pe taking to him a trop of uisgebeatha?"
+
+"He taks naething o' that kin'," said Malcolm.
+
+He could not tell him that the madman, as men called him, lay
+wrestling in prayer with the Father of lights. The old highlander
+was not irreverent, but the thing would have been unintelligible
+to him. He could readily have believed that the supposed lunatic
+might be favoured beyond ordinary mortals; that at that very moment,
+lost in his fit, he might be rapt in a vision of the future--a
+wave of time, far off as yet from the souls of other men, even now
+rolling over his; but that a soul should seek after vital content by
+contact with its maker, was an idea belonging to a region which,
+in the highlander's being, lay as yet an unwatered desert, an
+undiscovered land, whence even no faintest odour had been wafted
+across the still air of surprised contemplation.
+
+About the time when Malcolm once more sped through the bored craig,
+the marquis and Lady Florimel were walking through the tunnel on
+their way home, chatting about a great ball they were going to give
+the tenants.
+
+He found the laird where he had left him, and thought at first he
+must now surely be asleep; but once more bending over him, he could
+hear him still murmuring at intervals, "Father o' lichts! Father
+o' lichts!"
+
+Not less compassionate, and more sympathetic than Eliphaz or Bildad
+or Zophar, Malcolm again took his place near him, and sat watching
+by him until the gray dawn began in the east. Then all at once the
+laird rose to his feet, and without a look on either side walked
+steadily away towards the promontory. Malcolm rose also, and gazed
+after him until he vanished amongst the rocks, no motion of his
+distorted frame witnessing other than calmness of spirit. So his
+watcher returned in peace through the cool morning air to the side
+of his slumbering grandfather.
+
+No one in the Seaton of Portlossie ever dreamed of locking door or
+window at night.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII: ARMAGEDDON
+
+
+The home season of the herring fishery was to commence a few days
+after the occurrences last recorded. The boats had all returned
+from other stations, and the little harbour was one crowd of stumpy
+masts, each with its halliard, the sole cordage visible, rove
+through the top of it, for the hoisting of a lug sail, tanned to
+a rich red brown. From this underwood towered aloft the masts of
+a coasting schooner, discharging its load of coal at the little
+quay. Other boats lay drawn up on the beach in front of the Seaton,
+and beyond it on the other side of the burn. Men and women were
+busy with the brown nets, laying them out on the short grass of
+the shore, mending them with netting needles like small shuttles,
+carrying huge burdens of them on their shoulders in the hot sunlight;
+others were mending, calking, or tarring their boats, and looking
+to their various fittings. All was preparation for the new venture
+in their own waters, and everything went merrily and hopefully.
+Wives who had not accompanied their husbands now had them home
+again, and their anxieties would henceforth endure but for a night
+--joy would come with the red sails in the morning, lovers were
+once more together, the one great dread broken into a hundred
+little questioning fears; mothers had their sons again, to watch
+with loving eyes as they swung their slow limbs at their labour, or
+in the evenings sauntered about, hands in pockets, pipe in mouth,
+and blue bonnet cast carelessly on the head: it was almost a single
+family, bound together by a network of intermarriages, so intricate
+as to render it impossible for any one who did not belong to the
+community to follow the threads or read the design of the social
+tracery.
+
+And while the Seaton swarmed with "the goings on of life," the town
+of Portlossie lay above it still as a country hamlet, with more
+odours than people about: of people it was seldom indeed that three
+were to be spied at once in the wide street, while of odours you
+would always encounter a smell of leather from the saddler's shop,
+and a mingled message of bacon and cheese from the very general
+dealer's--in whose window hung what seemed three hams, and only
+he who looked twice would discover that the middle object was
+no ham, but a violin--while at every corner lurked a scent of
+gillyflowers and southernwood. Idly supreme, Portlossie the upper
+looked down in condescension, that is in half concealed contempt,
+on the ant heap below it.
+
+The evening arrived on which the greater part of the boats was to
+put off for the first assay. Malcolm would have made one in the
+little fleet, for he belonged to his friend Joseph Mair's crew,
+had it not been found impossible to get the new boat ready before
+the following evening; whence, for this one more, he was still his
+own master, with one more chance of a pleasure for which he had
+been on the watch ever since Lady Florimel had spoken of having a
+row in his boat. True, it was not often she appeared on the shore
+in the evening; nevertheless he kept watching the dune with his
+keen eyes, for he had hinted to Mrs Courthope that perhaps her
+young lady would like to see the boats go out.
+
+Although it was the fiftieth time his eyes had swept the links in
+vague hope, he could hardly believe their testimony when now at
+length he spied a form, which could only be hers, looking seaward
+from the slope, as still as a sphinx on Egyptian sands.
+
+He sauntered slowly towards her by the landward side of the dune,
+gathering on his way a handful of the reddest daisies he could
+find; then, ascending the sandhill, approached her along the top.
+
+"Saw ye ever sic gowans in yer life, my leddy?" he said, holding
+out his posy.
+
+"Is that what you call them?" she returned.
+
+"Ow ay, my leddy--daisies ye ca' them. I dinna ken but yours is
+the bonnier name o' the twa--gien it be what Mr Graham tells me
+the auld poet Chaucer maks o' 't."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"Ow, jist the een o' the day.--the day's eyes, ye ken. They're
+sma' een for sic a great face, but syne there's a lot o' them to
+mak up for that. They've begun to close a'ready, but the mair they
+close the bonnier they luik, wi' their bits o' screwed up mooies
+(little mouths). But saw ye ever sic reid anes, or ony sic a size,
+my leddy?"
+
+"I don't think I ever did. What is the reason they are so large
+and red?"
+
+"I dinna ken. There canna be muckle nourishment in sic a thin soil,
+but there maun be something that agrees wi' them. It's the same a'
+roon' aboot here."
+
+Lady Florimel sat looking at the daisies, and Malcolm stood a few
+yards off watching for the first of the red sails, which must soon
+show themselves, creeping out on the ebb tide. Nor had he waited
+long before a boat appeared, then another and another--six huge
+oars, ponderous to toil withal, urging each from the shelter of
+the harbour out into the wide weltering plain. The fishing boat of
+that time was not decked as now, and each, with every lift of its
+bows, revealed to their eyes a gaping hollow, ready, if a towering
+billow should break above it, to be filled with sudden death.
+One by one the whole fleet crept out, and ever as they gained the
+breeze, up went the red sails, and filled: aside leaned every boat
+from the wind, and went dancing away over the frolicking billows
+towards the sunset, its sails, deep dyed in oak bark, shining redder
+and redder in the growing redness of the sinking sun.
+
+Nor did Portlossie alone send out her boats, like huge seabirds
+warring on the live treasures of the deep; from beyond the headlands
+east and west, out they glided on slow red wing,--from Scaurnose,
+from Sandend, from Clamrock, from the villages all along the coast,
+--spreading as they came, each to its work apart through all the
+laborious night, to rejoin its fellows only as home drew them back
+in the clear gray morning, laden and slow with the harvest of the
+stars. But the night lay between, into which they were sailing
+over waters of heaving green that for ever kept tossing up roses
+--a night whose curtain was a horizon built up of steady blue, but
+gorgeous with passing purple and crimson, and flashing with molten
+gold.
+
+Malcolm was not one of those to whom the sea is but a pond for fish,
+and the sky a storehouse of wind and rain, sunshine and snow: he
+stood for a moment gazing, lost in pleasure. Then he turned to Lady
+Florimel: she had thrown her daisies on the sand, appeared to be
+deep in her book, and certainly caught nothing of the splendour
+before her beyond the red light on her page.
+
+"Saw ye ever a bonnier sicht, my leddy?" said Malcolm.
+
+She looked up, and saw, and gazed in silence. Her nature was full
+of poetic possibilities; and now a formless thought foreshadowed
+itself in a feeling she did not understand: why should such a
+sight as this make her feel sad? The vital connection between joy
+and effort had begun from afar to reveal itself with the question
+she now uttered.
+
+"What is it all for?" she asked dreamily, her eyes gazing out on
+the calm ecstasy of colour, which seemed to have broken the bonds
+of law, and ushered in a new chaos, fit matrix of new heavens and
+new earth.
+
+"To catch herrin'," answered Malcolm, ignorant of the mood that
+prompted the question, and hence mistaking its purport.
+
+But a falling doubt had troubled the waters of her soul, and through
+the ripple she could descry it settling into form. She was silent
+for a moment.
+
+"I want to know," she resumed, "why it looks as if some great thing
+were going on. Why is all this pomp and show? Something ought to
+be at hand. All I see is the catching of a few miserable fish! If
+it were the eve of a glorious battle now, I could understand it
+--if those were the little English boats rushing to attack the
+Spanish Armada, for instance. But they are only gone to catch fish.
+Or if they were setting out to discover the Isles of the West, the
+country beyond the sunset!--but this jars."
+
+"I canna answer ye a' at ance, my leddy," said Malcolm; "I maun
+tak time to think aboot it. But I ken brawly what ye mean." Even
+as he spoke he withdrew, and, descending the mound, walked away
+beyond the bored craig, regardless now of the far lessening sails
+and the sinking sun. The motes of the twilight were multiplying fast
+as he returned along the shore side of the dune, but Lady Florimel
+had vanished from its crest. He ran to the top: thence, in the dim
+of the twilight, he saw her slow retreating form, phantom-like,
+almost at the grated door of the tunnel, which, like that of a
+tomb, appeared ready to draw her in, and yield her no more.
+
+"My leddy, my leddy," he cried, "winna ye bide for 't?"
+
+He went bounding after her like a deer. She heard him call, and
+stood holding the door half open.
+
+"It's the battle o' Armageddon, my leddy," he cried, as he came
+within hearing distance.
+
+"The battle of what?" she exclaimed, bewildered. "I really can't
+understand your savage Scotch."
+
+"Hoot, my leddy! the battle o' Armageddon 's no ane o' the Scots
+battles; it 's the battle atween the richt and the wrang, 'at ye
+read aboot i' the buik o' the Revelations."
+
+"What on earth are you talking about?" returned Lady Florimel in
+dismay, beginning to fear that her squire was losing his senses.
+
+"It's jist what ye was sayin,' my leddy: sic a pomp as yon bude to
+hing abune a gran' battle some gait or ither."
+
+"What has the catching of fish to do with a battle in the Revelations?"
+said the girl, moving a little within the door.
+
+"Weel, my leddy, gien I took in han' to set it furth to ye, I wad
+hae to tell ye a' that Mr Graham has been learnin' me sin ever I
+can min.' He says 'at the whole economy o' natur is fashiont unco
+like that o' the kingdom o' haven: its jist a gradation o' services,
+an' the highest en' o' ony animal is to contreebute to the life o'
+ane higher than itsel'; sae that it 's the gran' preevilege o' the
+fish we tak, to be aten by human bein's, an' uphaud what's abune
+them."
+
+"That's a poor consolation to the fish," said Lady Florimel.
+
+"Hoo ken ye that, my leddy? Ye can tell nearhan' as little aboot
+the hert o' a herrin'--sic as it has--as the herrin' can tell
+aboot yer ain, whilk,  thinkin', maun be o' the lairgest size."
+
+"How should you know anything about my heart, pray?" she asked,
+with more amusement than offence.
+
+"Jist by my ain," answered Malcolm.
+
+Lady Florimel began to fear she must have allowed the fisher lad
+more liberty than was proper, seeing he dared avow that he knew
+the heart of a lady of her position by his own. But indeed Malcolm
+was wrong, for in the scale of hearts, Lady Florimel's was far
+below his. She stepped quite within the door, and was on the point
+of shutting it, but something about the youth restrained her, exciting
+at least her curiosity; his eyes glowed with a deep, quiet light,
+and his face, even grand at the moment, had a greater influence
+upon her than she knew. Instead therefore of interposing the door
+between them, she only kept it poised, ready to fall to the moment
+the sanity of the youth should become a hair's breadth more doubtful
+than she already considered it.
+
+"It's a' pairt o' ae thing, my leddy," Malcolm resumed. "The herrin
+'s like the fowk 'at cairries the mate an' the pooder an' sic like
+for them 'at does the fechtin'. The hert o' the leevin' man's the
+place whaur the battle's foucht, an' it 's aye gaein' on an' on there
+atween God an' Sawtan; an' the fish they haud fowk up till 't."
+
+"Do you mean that the herrings help you to fight for God?" said
+Lady Florimel with a superior smile.
+
+"Aither for God or for the deevil, my leddy--that depen's upo'
+the fowk themsel's. I say it hauds them up to fecht, an' the thing
+maun be fouchten oot. Fowk to fecht maun live, an' the herrin'
+hauds the life i' them, an' sae the catchin' o' the herrin' comes
+in to be a pairt o' the battle."
+
+"Wouldn't it be more sensible to say that the battle is between the
+fishermen and the sea, for the sake of their wives and children?"
+suggested Lady Florimel supremely.
+
+"Na, my leddy, it wadna he half sae sensible, for it wadna justifee
+the grandur that hings ower the fecht. The battle wi' the sea 's no
+sae muckle o' an affair. An', 'deed, gien it warna that the wives
+an' the verra weans hae themsel's to fecht i' the same battle o'
+guid an' ill, I dinna see the muckle differ there wad be atween
+them an' the fish, nor what for they sudna ate ane anither as the
+craturs i' the watter du. But gien 't be the battle I say, there
+can be no pomp o' sea or sky ower gran' for 't; an' it 's a weel
+waured (expended) gien it but haud the gude anes merry an' strong,
+an' up to their work. For that, weel may the sun shine a celestial
+rosy reid, an' weel may the boatie row, an' weel may the stars luik
+doon, blinkin' an' luikin' again--ilk ane duin' its bonny pairt
+to mak a man a richt hertit guid willed sodger!"
+
+"And, pray, what may be your rank in this wonderful army?" asked
+Lady Florimel, with the air and tone of one humouring a lunatic.
+
+" naething but a raw recruit, my leddy; but gien I hed my chice,
+I wad be piper to my reg'ment."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"I wad mak sangs. Dinna lauch at me, my leddy, for they're the best
+kin' o' wapon for the wark 'at I ken. But  no a makar (poet),
+an' maun content mysel' wi' duin' my wark."
+
+"Then why," said Lady Florimel, with the conscious right of social
+superiority to administer good counsel,--"why don't you work
+harder, and get a better house, and wear better clothes?"
+
+Malcolm's mind was so full of far other and weightier things that
+the question bewildered him; but he grappled with the reference to
+his clothes.
+
+"'Deed, my leddy," he returned, "ye may weel say that, seein' ye
+was never aboord a herrin' boat! but gien ye ance saw the inside
+o' ane fu' o' fish, whaur a body gangs slidderin' aboot, maybe up
+to the middle o' 's leg in wamlin' herrin,' an' the neist meenute,
+maybe, weet to the skin wi' the splash o' a muckle jaw (wave), ye
+micht think the claes guid eneuch for the wark--though ill fit,
+I confess wi' shame, to come afore yer leddyship."
+
+"I thought you only fished about close by the shore in a little
+boat; I didn't know you went with the rest of the fishermen: that's
+very dangerous work--isn't it?"
+
+"No ower dangerous my leddy. There's some gangs doon ilka sizzon;
+but it 's a' i' the w'y o' yer wark."
+
+"Then how is it you're not gone fishing tonight?"
+
+"She's a new boat, an' there's anither day's wark on her afore we
+win oot.--Wadna ye like a row the nicht, my leddy?"
+
+"No, certainly; it 's much too late."
+
+"It'll be nane mirker nor 'tis; but I reckon ye're richt. I cam
+ower by jist to see whether ye wadna like to gang wi' the boats a
+bit; but yer leddyship set me aff thinkin' an' that pat it oot o'
+my heid."
+
+"It's too late now anyhow. Come tomorrow evening, and I'll see if
+I can't go with you."
+
+"I canna, my leddy--that's the fash o' 't! I maun gang wi' Blue
+Peter the morn's nicht. It was my last chance,  sorry to say."
+
+"It's not of the slightest consequence," Lady Florimel returned;
+and, bidding him goodnight, she shut and locked the door.
+
+The same instant she vanished, for the tunnel was now quite dark.
+Malcolm turned with a sigh, and took his way slowly homeward along
+the top of the dune. All was dim about him--dim in the heavens,
+where a thin veil of gray had gathered over the blue; dim on
+the ocean, where the stars swayed and swung, in faint flashes of
+dissolving radiance, cast loose like ribbons of seaweed: dim all
+along the shore, where the white of the breaking wavelet melted
+into the yellow sand; and dim in his own heart, where the manner
+and words of the lady had half hidden her starry reflex with a
+chilling mist.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV: THE FEAST
+
+
+To the entertainment which the marquis and Lady Florimel had
+resolved to give, all classes and conditions in the neighbourhood
+now began to receive invitations--shopkeepers, there called
+merchants, and all socially above them, individually, by notes, in
+the name of the marquis and Lady Florimel, but in the handwriting
+of Mrs Crathie and her daughters; and the rest generally, by the
+sound of bagpipes, and proclamation from the lips of Duncan MacPhail.
+To the satisfaction of Johnny Bykes the exclusion of improper
+persons was left in the hands of the gatekeepers.
+
+The thing had originated with the factor. The old popularity of
+the lords of the land had vanished utterly during the life of the
+marquis's brother, and Mr Crathie, being wise in his generation,
+sought to initiate a revival of it by hinting the propriety of some
+general hospitality, a suggestion which the marquis was anything but
+loath to follow. For the present Lord Lossie, although as unready
+as most men to part with anything he cared for, could yet cast
+away magnificently, and had always greatly prized a reputation for
+liberality.
+
+For the sake of the fishermen, the first Saturday after the
+commencement of the home fishing was appointed. The few serious
+ones, mostly Methodists, objected on the ground of the proximity
+of the Sunday; but their attitude was, if possible, of still less
+consequence in the eyes of their neighbours that it was well known
+they would in no case have accepted such an invitation.
+
+The day dawned propitious. As early as five o'clock Mr Crathie was
+abroad, booted and spurred--now directing the workmen who were
+setting up tents and tables; now conferring with house steward,
+butler, or cook; now mounting his horse and galloping off to the
+home farm or the distillery, or into the town to the Lossie Arms,
+where certain guests from a distance were to be accommodated, and
+whose landlady had undertaken the superintendence of certain of the
+victualling departments; for canny Mr Crathie would not willingly
+have the meanest guest ask twice for anything he wanted--so
+invaluable did he consider a good word from the humblest quarter
+--and the best labours of the French cook, even had he reverenced
+instead of despising Scotch dishes, would have ill sufficed for the
+satisfaction of appetites critically appreciative of hotch potch,
+sheep's head, haggis, and black puddings.
+
+The neighbouring nobility and landed gentlemen, the professional
+guests also, including the clergy, were to eat with the marquis
+in the great hall. On the grass near the house, tents were erected
+for the burgesses of the burgh, and the tenants of the marquis's
+farms. I would have said on the lawn, but there was no lawn proper
+about the place, the ground was so picturesquely broken--in
+parts with all but precipices--and so crowded with trees. Hence
+its aspect was specially unlike that of an English park and grounds.
+The whole was Celtic, as distinguished in character from Saxon.
+For the lake-like lawn, for the wide sweeps of airy room in which
+expand the mighty boughs of solitary trees, for the filmy gray blue
+distances, and the far off segments of horizon, here were the tree
+crowded grass, the close windings of the long glen of the burn,
+heavily overshadowed, and full of mystery and covert, but leading
+at last to the widest vantage of outlook--the wild heathery hill
+down which it drew its sharp furrow; while, in front of the house,
+beyond hidden river, and plane of treetops, and far sunk shore with
+its dune and its bored crag and its tortuous caves, lay the great
+sea, a pouting under lip, met by the thin, reposeful--shall I
+say sorrowful?--upper lip of the sky.
+
+A bridge of stately span, level with the sweep in front, honourable
+embodiment of the savings of a certain notable countess, one end
+resting on the same rock with the house, their foundations almost
+in contact, led across the burn to more and more trees, their
+roots swathed in the finest grass, through which ran broad carriage
+drives and narrower footways, hard and smooth with yellow gravel.
+Here amongst the trees were set long tables for the fishermen,
+mechanics, and farm labourers. Here also was the place appointed
+for the piper.
+
+As the hour drew near, the guests came trooping in at every entrance.
+By the sea gate came the fisher folk, many of the men in the blue
+jersey, the women mostly in short print gowns, of large patterns
+--the married with huge, wide filled caps, and the unmarried with
+their hair gathered in silken nets:--bonnets there were very
+few. Each group that entered had a joke or a jibe for Johnny Bykes,
+which he met in varying, but always surly fashion--in that of
+utter silence in the case of Duncan and Malcolm, at which the former
+was indignant, the latter merry. By the town gate came the people
+of Portlossie. By the new main entrance from the high road beyond
+the town, through lofty Greekish gates, came the lords and lairds,
+in yellow coaches, gigs, and post chaises. By another gate, far up
+the glen, came most of the country folk, some walking, some riding,
+some driving, all merry, and with the best intentions of enjoying
+themselves. As the common people approached the house, they were
+directed to their different tables by the sexton, for he knew
+everybody.
+
+The marquis was early on the ground, going about amongst his guests,
+and showing a friendly offhand courtesy which prejudiced every one
+in his favour. Lady Florimel soon joined him, and a certain frank
+way she inherited from her father, joined to the great beauty her
+mother had given her, straightway won all hearts. She spoke to
+Duncan with cordiality; the moment he heard her voice, he pulled
+off his bonnet, put it under his arm, and responded with what I can
+find no better phrase to describe than a profuse dignity. Malcolm
+she favoured with a smile which swelled his heart with pride
+and devotion. The bold faced countess next appeared; she took the
+marquis's other arm, and nodded to his guests condescendingly and
+often, but seemed, after every nod, to throw her head farther back
+than before. Then to haunt the goings of Lady Florimel came Lord
+Meikleham, receiving little encouragement, but eager after such
+crumbs as he could gather. Suddenly the great bell under the highest
+of the gilded vanes rang a loud peal, and the marquis having led
+his chief guests to the hall, as soon as he was seated, the tables
+began to be served simultaneously.
+
+At that where Malcolm sat with Duncan, grace was grievously foiled
+by the latter, for, unaware of what was going on, he burst out,
+at the request of a waggish neighbour, with a tremendous blast, of
+which the company took advantage to commence operations at once,
+and presently the clatter of knives and forks and spoons was the
+sole sound to be heard in that division of the feast: across the
+valley, from the neighbourhood of the house, came now and then a
+faint peal of laughter, for there they knew how to be merry while
+they ate; but here, the human element was in abeyance, for people
+who work hard, seldom talk while they eat. From the end of an
+overhanging bough a squirrel looked at them for one brief moment,
+wondering perhaps that they should not prefer cracking a nut
+in private, and vanished--but the birds kept singing, and the
+scents of the flowers came floating up from the garden below, and
+the burn went on with its own noises and its own silences, drifting
+the froth of its last passion down towards the doors of the world.
+
+In the hall, ancient jokes soon began to flutter their moulted
+wings, and musty compliments to offer themselves for the acceptance
+of the ladies, and meet with a reception varied by temperament
+and experience: what the bold faced countess heard with a hybrid
+contortion, half sneer and half smile, would have made Lady Florimel
+stare out of big refusing eyes.
+
+Those more immediately around the marquis were soon laughing over
+the story of the trick he had played the blind piper, and the
+apology he had had to make in consequence; and perhaps something
+better than mere curiosity had to do with the wish of several of
+the guests to see the old man and his grandson. The marquis said
+the piper himself would take care they should not miss him, but he
+would send for the young fellow, who was equally fitted to amuse
+them, being quite as much of a character in his way as the other.
+
+He spoke to the man behind his chair, and in a few minutes Malcolm
+made his appearance, following the messenger.
+
+"Malcolm," said the marquis kindly, "I want you to keep your eyes
+open, and see that no mischief is done about the place."
+
+"I dinna think there's ane o' oor ain fowk wad dee ony mischeef,
+my lord," answered Malcolm; "but whan ye keep open yett, ye canna
+be sure wha wins in, specially wi' sic a gowk as Johnny Bykes at
+ane o' them. No 'at he wad wrang yer lordship a hair, my lord!"
+
+"At all events you'll be on the alert," said the marquis.
+
+"I wull that, my Lord. There's twa or three aboot a'ready 'at I
+dinna a'thegither like the leuks o'. They're no like country fowk,
+an' they're no fisher fowk. It's no far aff the time o' year whan
+the gipsies are i' the w'y o' payin' 's a veesit, an' they may ha'
+come in at the Binn yett (gate), whaur there's nane but an auld
+wife to haud them oot."
+
+"Well, well," said the marquis, who had no fear about the behaviour
+of his guests, and had only wanted a colour for his request of
+Malcolm's presence. "In the meantime," he added, "we are rather
+short handed here. Just give the butler a little assistance--will
+you?"
+
+"Willin'ly, my lord," answered Malcolm, forgetting altogether, in
+the prospect of being useful and within sight of Lady Florimel,
+that he had but half finished his own dinner. The butler, who
+had already had an opportunity of admiring his aptitude, was glad
+enough to have his help; and after this day used to declare that
+in a single week he could make him a better servant than any of the
+men who waited at table. It was indeed remarkable how, with such
+a limited acquaintance with the many modes of an artificial life,
+he was yet, by quickness of sympathetic insight, capable not only
+of divining its requirements, but of distinguishing, amid the
+multitude of appliances around, those fitted to their individual
+satisfaction.
+
+It was desirable, however, that the sitting in the hall should not
+be prolonged, and after a few glasses of wine, the marquis rose, and
+went to make the round of the other tables. Taking them in order,
+he came last to those of the rustics, mechanics, and fisher folk.
+These had advanced considerably in their potations, and the fun
+was loud. His appearance was greeted with shouts, into which Duncan
+struck with a paean from his pipes; but in the midst of the tumult,
+one of the oldest of the fishermen stood up, and in a voice accustomed
+to battle with windy uproars, called for silence. He then addressed
+their host.
+
+"Ye'll jist mak 's prood by drinkin' a tum'ler wi' 's, yer lordship,"
+he said. "It's no ilka day we hae the honour o' yer lordship's
+company."
+
+"Or I of yours," returned the marquis with hearty courtesy. "I will
+do it with pleasure--or at least a glass: my head's not so well
+seasoned as some of yours."
+
+"Gien your lordship's hed hed as mony blasts o' nicht win', an' as
+mony jaups o' cauld sea watter aboot its lugs as oors, it wad hae
+been fit to stan' as muckle o' the barley bree as the stievest o'
+the lot, I s' warran'."
+
+"I hope so," returned Lord Lossie, who, having taken a seat at
+the end of the table, was now mixing a tumbler of toddy. As soon
+as he had filled his glass, he rose, and drank to the fishermen
+of Portlossie, their wives and their sweethearts, wishing them a
+mighty conquest of herring, and plenty of children to keep up the
+breed and the war on the fish. His speech was received with hearty
+cheers, during which he sauntered away to rejoin his friends.
+
+Many toasts followed, one of which, "Damnation to the dogfish,"
+gave opportunity to a wag, seated near the piper, to play upon the
+old man's well known foible by adding, "an' Cawmill o' Glenlyon;"
+whereupon Duncan, who had by this time taken more whisky than
+was good for him, rose, and made a rambling speech, in which he
+returned thanks for the imprecation, adding thereto the hope that
+never might one of the brood accursed go down with honour to the
+grave.
+
+The fishermen listened with respectful silence, indulging only in
+nods, winks, and smiles for the interchange of amusement, until
+the utterance of the wish recorded, when, apparently carried away
+for a moment by his eloquence, they broke into loud applause. But,
+from the midst of it, a low gurgling laugh close by him reached Duncan's
+ear: excited though he was with strong drink and approbation, he
+shivered, sunk into his seat, and clutched at his pipes convulsively,
+as if they had been a weapon of defence.
+
+"Malcolm! Malcolm, my son," he muttered feebly, "tere is a voman
+will pe laughing! She is a paad voman: she makes me cold!"
+
+Finding from the no response that Malcolm had left his side,
+he sat motionless, drawn into himself, and struggling to suppress
+the curdling shiver. Some of the women gathered about him, but he
+assured them it was nothing more than a passing sickness.
+
+Malcolm's attention had, a few minutes before, been drawn to two
+men of somewhat peculiar appearance, who, applauding louder than
+any, only pretended to drink, and occasionally interchanged glances
+of intelligence. It was one of these peculiar looks that first
+attracted his notice. He soon discovered that they had a comrade
+on the other side of the table, who apparently, like themselves,
+had little or no acquaintance with any one near him. He did not
+like either their countenances or their behaviour, and resolved to
+watch them. In order therefore to be able to follow them when they
+moved, as he felt certain they would before long, without attracting
+their attention, he left the table and making a circuit took up
+his position behind a neighbouring tree. Hence it came that he was
+not, at the moment of his need, by his grandfather's side, whither
+he had returned as soon as dinner was over in the hall.
+
+Meantime it became necessary to check the drinking by the counter
+attraction of the dance. Mr Crathie gave orders that a chair should
+be mounted on a table for Duncan; and the young hinds and fishermen
+were soon dancing zealously with the girls of their company to his
+strathspeys and reels. The other divisions of the marquis's guests
+made merry to the sound of a small brass band, a harp, and two
+violins.
+
+When the rest forsook the toddy for the reel, the objects of
+Malcolm's suspicion remained at the table, not to drink, but to
+draw nearer to each other and confer. At length, when the dancers
+began to return in quest of liquor, they rose and went away
+loiteringly through the trees. As the twilight was now deepening,
+Malcolm found it difficult to keep them in sight, but for the same
+reason he was able the more quickly to glide after them from tree
+to tree. It was almost moonrise, he said to himself, and if they
+meditated mischief, now was their best time.
+
+Presently he heard the sound of running feet, and in a moment more
+spied the unmistakeable form of the mad laird, darting through the
+thickening dusk of the trees, with gestures of wild horror. As he
+passed the spot where Malcolm stood, he cried out in a voice like
+a suppressed shriek,--"It's my mither! It's my mither! I dinna
+ken whaur I come frae."
+
+His sudden appearance and outcry so startled Malcolm that for a
+moment he forgot his watch, and when he looked again the men had
+vanished. Not having any clue to their intent, and knowing only
+that on such a night the house was nearly defenceless, he turned at
+once and made for it. As he approached the front, coming over the
+bridge, he fancied he saw a figure disappear through the entrance,
+and quickened his pace. Just as he reached it, he heard a door
+bang, and supposing it to be that which shut off the second hall,
+whence rose the principal staircase, he followed this vaguest
+of hints, and bounded to the top of the stair. Entering the first
+passage he came to, he found it almost dark, with a half open door
+at the end, through which shone a gleam from some window beyond:
+this light was plainly shut off for a moment, as if by some one
+passing the window. He hurried after noiselessly, for the floor was
+thickly carpeted--and came to the foot of a winding stone stair.
+Afraid beyond all things of doing nothing, and driven by the
+formless conviction that if he stopped to deliberate he certainly
+should do nothing, he shot up the dark screw like an ascending
+bubble, passed the landing of the second floor without observing
+it, and arrived in the attic regions of the ancient pile, under
+low, irregular ceilings, here ascending in cones, there coming down
+in abrupt triangles, or sloping away to a hidden meeting with the
+floor in distant corners. His only light was the cold blue glimmer
+from here and there a storm window or a skylight. As the conviction
+of failure grew on him, the ghostly feeling of the place began
+to invade him. All was vague, forsaken, and hopeless, as a dreary
+dream, with the superadded miserable sense of lonely sleepwalking.
+I suspect that the feeling we call ghostly is but the sense of
+abandonment in the lack of companion life; but be this as it may,
+Malcolm was glad enough to catch sight of a gleam as from a candle,
+at the end of a long, low passage on which he had come after mazy
+wandering. Another similar passage crossed its end, somewhere in
+which must be the source of the light: he crept towards it, and
+laying himself flat on the floor, peeped round the corner. His
+very heart stopped to listen: seven or eight yards from him, with
+a small lantern in her hand, stood a short female figure, which,
+the light falling for a moment on her soft evil countenance, he
+recognised as Mrs Catanach. Beside her stood a tall graceful figure,
+draped in black from head to foot. Mrs Catanach was speaking in
+a low tone, and what Malcolm was able to catch was evidently the
+close of a conversation.
+
+"I'll do my best, ye may be sure, my leddy," she said. "There's
+something no canny aboot the cratur, an' doobtless ye was an ill
+used wuman, an' ye're i' the richt. But it 's a some fearsome ventur,
+an' may be luikit intill, ye ken. There I s' be yer scoug. Lippen
+to me, an' ye s' no repent it."
+
+As she ended speaking, she turned to the door, and drew from it a
+key, evidently after a foiled attempt to unlock it therewith; for
+from a bunch she carried she now made choice of another, and was
+already fumbling with it in the keyhole, when Malcolm bethought
+himself that, whatever her further intent, he ought not to allow
+her to succeed in opening the door. He therefore rose slowly to
+his feet, and stepping softly out into the passage, sent his round
+blue bonnet spinning with such a certain aim, that it flew right
+against her head. She gave a cry of terror, smothered by the sense
+of evil secrecy, and dropped her lantern. It went out. Malcolm
+pattered with his hands on the floor, and began to howl frightfully.
+Her companion had already fled, and Mrs Catanach picked up her
+lantern and followed. But her flight was soft footed, and gave sign
+only in the sound of her garments, and a clank or two of her keys.
+
+Gifted with a good sense of relative position, Malcolm was able to
+find his way back to the hall without much difficulty, and met no
+one on the way. When he stepped into the open air a round moon was
+visible through the trees, and their shadows were lying across the
+sward. The merriment had grown louder; for a good deal of whisky
+having been drunk by men of all classes, hilarity had ousted
+restraint, and the separation of classes having broken a little,
+there were many stragglers from the higher to the lower divisions,
+whence the area of the more boisterous fun had considerably widened.
+Most of the ladies and gentlemen were dancing in the chequer of
+the trees and moonlight, but, a little removed from the rest, Lady
+Florimel was seated under a tree, with Lord Meikleham by her side,
+probably her partner in the last dance. She was looking at the
+moon, which shone upon her from between two low branches, and there
+was a sparkle in her eyes and a luminousness upon her cheek which
+to Malcolm did not seem to come from the moon only. He passed on,
+with the first pang of jealousy in his heart, feeling now for the
+first time that the space between Lady Florimel and himself was
+indeed a gulf. But he cast the whole thing from him for the time
+with an inward scorn of his foolishness, and hurried on from group
+to group, to find the marquis.
+
+Meeting with no trace of him, and thinking he might be in the flower
+garden, which a few rays of the moon now reached, he descended
+thither. But he searched it through with no better success, and at
+the farthest end was on the point of turning to leave it and look
+elsewhere, when he heard a moan of stifled agony on the other
+side of a high wall which here bounded the garden. Climbing up an
+espalier, he soon reached the top, and looking down on the other
+side, to his horror and rage espied the mad laird on the ground,
+and the very men of whom he had been in pursuit, standing over him
+and brutally tormenting him, apparently in order to make him get
+up and go along with them. One was kicking him, another pulling
+his head this way and that by the hair, and the third punching and
+poking his hump, which last cruelty had probably drawn from him
+the cry Malcolm had heard.
+
+Three might be too many for him: he descended swiftly, found some
+stones, and a stake from a bed of sweet peas, then climbing up
+again, took such effectual aim at one of the villains that he fell
+without uttering a sound. Dropping at once from the wall, he rushed
+at the two with stick upheaved.
+
+"Dinna be in sic a rage, man," cried the first, avoiding his blow;
+"we're aboot naething ayont the lawfu'. It's only the mad laird.
+We're takin' 'im to the asylum at Ebberdeen. By the order o' 's
+ain mither!"
+
+At the word a choking scream came from the prostrate victim. Malcolm
+uttered a huge imprecation, and struck at the fellow again, who
+now met him in a way that showed it was noise more than wounds he
+had dreaded. Instantly the other came up, and also fell upon him
+with vigour. But his stick was too much for them, and at length
+one of them, crying out--"It's the blin' piper's bastard--I'll
+mark him yet!" took to his heels, and was followed by his companion.
+
+More eager after rescue than punishment, Malcolm turned to the help
+of the laird, whom he found in utmost need of his ministrations--
+gagged, and with his hands tied mercilessly tight behind his back.
+His knife quickly released him, but the poor fellow was scarcely
+less helpless than before. He clung to Malcolm, and moaned piteously,
+every moment glancing over his shoulder in terror of pursuit. His
+mouth hung open as if the gag were still tormenting him; now and
+then he would begin his usual lament and manage to say "I dinna
+ken;" but when he attempted the whaur, his jaw fell and hung as
+before. Malcolm sought to lead him away, but he held back, moaning
+dreadfully; then Malcolm would have him sit down where they were,
+but he caught his hand and pulled him away, stopping instantly,
+however, as if not knowing whither to turn from the fears on every
+side. At length the prostrate enemy began to move, when the laird,
+who had been unaware of his presence, gave a shriek, and took to his
+heels. Anxious not to lose sight of him, Malcolm left the wounded
+man to take care of himself; and followed him up the steep side of
+the little valley.
+
+They had not gone many steps from the top of the ascent, however,
+before the fugitive threw himself on the ground exhausted, and it
+was all Malcolm could do to get him to the town, where, unable to
+go a pace further, he sank down on Mrs Catanach's doorstep. A light
+was burning in the cottage, but Malcolm would seek shelter for him
+anywhere rather than with her, and, in terror of her quick ears,
+caught him up in his arms like a child, and hurried away with him
+to Miss Horn s.
+
+"Eh sirs!" exclaimed Miss Horn, when she opened the door--for
+Jean was among the merrymakers--"wha 's this 'at 's killt noo?"
+
+"It's the laird--Mr Stewart," returned Malcolm. "He's no freely
+killt, but nigh han'."
+
+"Na! weel I wat! Come in an' set him doon till we see," said Miss
+Horn, turning and leading the way up to her little parlour.
+
+There Malcolm laid his burden on the sofa, and gave a brief account
+of the rescue.
+
+"Lord preserve 's, Ma'colm!" cried Miss Horn, as soon as he had
+ended his tale, to which she had listened in silence, with fierce
+eyes and threatening nose; "isna 't a mercy I wasna made like some
+fowk, or I couldna ha' bidden to see the puir fallow misguidet that
+gait! It's a special mercy, Ma'colm MacPhail, to be made wantin'
+ony sic thing as feelin's."
+
+She was leaving the room as she spoke--to return instantly with
+brandy. The laird swallowed some with an effort, and began to
+revive.
+
+"Eh, sirs!" exclaimed Miss Horn, regarding him now more narrowly
+--"but he's in an awfu' state o' dirt! I maun wash his face an'
+han's, an' pit him till 's bed. Could ye help aff wi' 's claes,
+Ma'colm? Though I haena ony feelin's,  jist some eerie-like at
+the puir body's back."
+
+The last words were uttered in what she judged a safe aside.
+
+As if she had been his mother, she washed his face and hands, and
+dried them tenderly, the laird submitting like a child. He spoke
+but one word--when she took him by the hand to lead him to the
+room where her cousin used to sleep: "Father o' lichts!" he said,
+and no more. Malcolm put him to bed, where he lay perfectly still,
+whether awake or asleep they could not tell.
+
+He then set out to go back to Lossie House, promising to return
+after he had taken his grandfather home, and seen him also safe in
+bed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV: THE NIGHT WATCH
+
+
+When Malcolm returned, Jean had retired for the night, and again
+it was Miss Horn who admitted him, and led him to her parlour. It
+was a low ceiled room, with lean spider legged furniture and dingy
+curtains. Everything in it was suggestive of a comfort slowly
+vanishing. An odour of withered rose leaves pervaded the air. A
+Japanese cabinet stood in one corner, and on the mantelpiece a pair
+of Chinese fans with painted figures whose faces were embossed in
+silk, between which ticked an old French clock, whose supporters
+were a shepherd and shepherdess in prettily painted china. Long faded
+as was everything in it, the room was yet very rich in the eyes of
+Malcolm, whose home was bare even in comparison with that of the
+poorest of the fisher women, they had a passion for ornamenting
+their chimneypieces with china ornaments, and their dressers with
+the most gorgeous crockery that their money could buy--a certain
+metallic orange being the prevailing hue; while in Duncan's
+cottage, where woman had never initiated the taste, there was not
+even a china poodle to represent the finished development of luxury
+in the combination of the ugly and the useless.
+
+Miss Horn had made a little fire in the old fashioned grate, whose
+bars bellied out like a sail almost beyond the narrow chimney
+shelf, and a tea kettle was singing on the hob, while a decanter,
+a sugar basin, a nutmeg grater, and other needful things on a tray,
+suggested negus, beyond which Miss Horn never went in the matter
+of stimulants, asserting that, as she had no feelings, she never
+required anything stronger. She made Malcolm sit down at the opposite
+side of the fire, and mixing him a tumbler of her favourite drink,
+began to question him about the day, and how things had gone.
+
+Miss Horn had the just repute of discretion, for, gladly hearing all
+the news, she had the rare virtue of not repeating things to the
+prejudice of others without some good reason for so doing; Malcolm
+therefore, seated thus alone with her in the dead of the night, and
+bound to her by the bond of a common well doing, had no hesitation
+in unfolding to her all his adventures of the evening. She sat with
+her big hands in her lap, making no remark, not even an exclamation,
+while he went on with the tale of the garret; but her listening
+eyes grew--not larger--darker and fiercer as he spoke; the
+space between her nostrils and mouth widened visibly; the muscles
+knotted on the sides of her neck; and her nose curved more and more
+to the shape of a beak.
+
+"There's some deevilry there!" she said at length after he had
+finished, breaking a silence of some moments, during which she had
+been staring into the fire. "Whaur twa ill women come thegither,
+there maun be the auld man himsel' atween them."
+
+"I dinna doobt it," returned Malcolm. "An' ane o' them 's an ill
+wuman, sure eneuch; but I ken naething aboot the tither--only
+'at she maun be a leddy, by the w'y the howdy wife spak till her."
+
+"The waur token, when a leddy collogues wi' a wuman aneth her ain
+station, an' ane 'at has keppit (caught in passing) mony a secret
+in her day, an' by her callin' has had mair opportunity--no to say
+farther--than ither fowk o' duin' ill things! An' gien ye dinna
+ken her, that's no rizzon 'at I sudna hae a groff guiss at her by
+the marks ye read aff o' her. I'll jist hae to tell ye a story sic
+as an auld wife like me seldom tells till a young man like yersel'."
+
+"Yer ain bridle sail rule my tongue, mem," said Malcolm.
+
+"I s' lippen to yer discretion," said Miss Horn, and straightway
+began.--"Some years ago--an' I s' warran' it 's weel ower twinty
+--that same wuman, Bawby Cat'nach,--wha was nae hame born wuman,
+nor had been lang aboot the toon--comin' as she did frae naebody
+kent whaur, 'cep maybe it was the markis 'at than was, preshumed to
+mak up to me i' the w'y o' frien'ly acquantance--sic as a maiden
+leddy micht hae wi' a howdy--an' no 'at she forgot her proaper
+behaviour to ane like mysel'. But I cudna hae bidden (endured)
+the jaud, 'cep 'at I had rizzons for lattin' her jaw wag. She was
+cunnin', the auld vratch,--no that auld--maybe aboot forty,--
+but I was ower mony for her. She had the design to win at something
+she thoucht I kent, an' sae, to enteece me to open my pock, she
+opent hers, an' tellt me story efter story about this neebour an'
+that--a' o' them things 'at ouchtna to ha' been true, an 'at she
+ouchtna to ha' loot pass her lips gien they war true, seein' she
+cam by the knowledge o' them so as she said she did. But she gat
+naething o' me--the fat braint cat!--an' she hates me like the
+verra mischeef."
+
+Miss Horn paused and took a sip of her negus.
+
+"Ae day, I cam upon her sittin' by the ingleneuk i' my ain kitchen,
+haudin' a close an' a laich confab wi' Jean. I had Jean than, an'
+hoo I hae keepit the hizzy, I hardly ken. I think it maun be that,
+haein' nae feelin's o' my ain, I hae ower muckle regaird to ither
+fowk's, an' sae I never likit to pit her awa' wi'oot doonricht
+provocation. But dinna ye lippen to Jean, Malcolm--na, na! At
+that time, my cousin, Miss Grizel Cammell--my third cousin, she
+was--had come to bide wi' me--a bonny yoong thing as ye wad
+see, but in sair ill health; an' maybe she had het freits (whims),
+an' maybe no, but she cudna bide to see the wuman Cat'nach aboot
+the place. An' in verra trowth, she was to mysel' like ane o' thae
+ill faured birds, I dinna min' upo' the name them, 'at hings ower
+an airmy; for wharever there was onybody nae weel, or onybody
+deid, there was Bawby Cat'nach. I hae hard o' creepin' things 'at
+veesits fowk 'at 's no weel--an' Bawby was, an' is, ane sic like!
+Sae I was angert at seein' her colloguin' wi' Jean, an' I cried
+Jean to me to the door o' the kitchie. But wi' that up jumps Bawby,
+an' comin' efter her, says to me--says she, 'Eh, Miss Horn!
+there's terrible news: Leddy Lossie's deid;--she's been three
+ooks deid!'--'Weel,' says I, 'what's sae terrible aboot that?'
+For ye ken I never had ony feelin's, an' I cud see naething sae
+awfu' aboot a body deem' i' the ord'nar' w'y o natur like. 'We'll
+no miss her muckle doon here,' says I, 'for I never hard o' her
+bein' at the Hoose sin' ever I can.' 'But that's no a',' says she;
+'only I wad be laith to speyk aboot it i' the transe (passage).
+Lat me up the stair wi' ye, an' I'll tell ye mair.' Weel, pairtly
+'at I was ta'en by surprise like, an' pairtly 'at I wasna sae auld
+as I am noo, an' pairtly that I was keerious to hear--ill 'at
+I likit her--what neist the wuman wad say, I did as I ouchtna,
+an' turned an' gaed up the stair, an' loot her follow me. Whan she
+cam' in, she pat tu the door ahint her, an' turnt to me, an' said
+--says she: 'An wha 's deid forbye, think ye?'--'I hae hard o'
+naebody,' I answered. 'Wha but the laird o' Gersefell!' says she.
+' sorry to hear that, honest ma!' says I; for a'body likit Mr
+Stewart. 'An' what think ye o' 't?' says she, wi' a runklin o' her
+broos, an' a shak o' her heid, an' a settin o' her roon' nieves upo'
+the fat hips o' her. 'Think o' 't?' says I ; 'what sud I think o'
+'t, but that it 's the wull o' Providence?' Wi' that she leuch till
+she wabblet a' ower like cauld skink, an' says she--'Weel, that's
+jist what it is no, an' that lat me tell ye, Miss Horn!' I glowert
+at her, maist frichtit into believin' she was the witch fowk ca'd
+her. 'Wha's son 's the hump backit cratur',' says she, ''at comes
+in i' the gig whiles wi' the groom lad, think ye?'--'Wha's but
+the puir man's 'at 's deid?' says I. 'Deil a bit o' 't!' says she,
+'an' I beg yer pardon for mentionin' o' him,' says she. An' syne
+she screwt up her mou', an' cam closs up till me--for I wadna sit
+doon mysel', an' less wad I bid her, an' was sorry eneuch by this
+time 'at I had broucht her up the stair--an' says she, layin' her
+han' upo' my airm wi' a clap, as gien her an' me was to be freen's
+upo' sic a gran' foondation o' dirt as that!--says she, makin' a
+laich toot moot o' 't,--'He's Lord Lossie's!' says she, an' maks
+a face 'at micht hae turnt a cat sick--only by guid luck I had
+nae feelin's. 'An' nae suner's my leddy deid nor her man follows
+her!' says she. 'An' what do ye mak o' that?' says she. 'Ay, what
+do ye mak o' that?' says I till her again. 'Ow! what ken I?' says
+she, wi' anither ill leuk; an' wi' that she leuch an' turned awa,
+but turned back again or she wan to the door, an' says she--'Maybe
+ye didna ken 'at she was broucht to bed hersel' aboot a sax ooks
+ago?'--'Puir leddy!' said I, thinkin' mair o' her evil report
+nor o' the pains o' childbirth. 'Ay,' says she, wi' a deevilich
+kin' o' a lauch, like in spite o' hersel', 'for the bairn's deid,
+they tell me--as bonny a ladbairn as ye wad see, jist ooncoamon!
+An' whaur div ye think she had her doon lying? Jist at Lossie Hoose!'
+Wi' that she was oot at the door wi' a swag o' her tail, an' doon
+the stair to Jean again. I was jist at ane mair wi' anger at mysel'
+an' scunner at her, an' in twa min' s to gang efter her an' turn
+her oot o' the hoose, her an' Jean thegither. I could hear her
+snicherin' till hersel' as she gaed doon the stair. My verra stamack
+turned at the poozhonous ted.
+
+"I canna say what was true or what was fause i' the scandal o' her
+tale, nor what for she tuik the trouble to cairry 't to me, but
+it sune cam to be said 'at the yoong laird was but half wittet as
+weel's humpit, an' 'at his mither cudna bide him. An' certain it
+was 'at the puir wee chap cud as little bide his mither. Gien she
+cam near him ohn luikit for, they said, he wad gie a great skriech,
+and rin as fast as his wee weyver (spider) legs cud wag aneth the
+wecht o' 's humpie--an' whiles her after him wi' onything she cud
+lay her han' upo', they said--but I kenna. Ony gait, the widow
+hersel' grew waur and waur i' the temper, an' I misdoobt me sair
+was gey hard upo' the puir wee objeck--fell cruel til 'm, they
+said--till at len'th, as a' body kens, he forhooit (forsook) the
+hoose a'thegither. An' puttin' this an' that thegither, for I hear
+a hantle said 'at I say na ower again, it seems to me 'at her first
+scunner at her puir misformt bairn, wha they say was humpit whan
+he was born an' maist cost her her life to get lowst o' him--
+her scunner at 'im 's been growin' an' growin' till it 's grown to
+doonricht hate."
+
+"It's an awfu' thing 'at ye say, mem, an' I doobt it 's ower true.
+But hoo can a mither hate her ain bairn?" said Malcolm.
+
+"'Deed it 's nae wonner ye sud speir, laddie! for it 's weel kent 'at
+maist mithers, gien there be a shargar or a nat'ral or a crookit ane
+amo' their bairns, mak mair o' that ane nor o' a' the lave putten
+thegither--as gien they wad mak it up till 'im, for the fair
+play o' the warl. But ye see in this case, he's aiblins (perhaps)
+the child o' sin--for a leear may tell an ill trowth--an' beirs
+the marks o' 't, ye see; sae to her he's jist her sin rinnin' aboot
+the warl incarnat; an' that canna be pleesant to luik upo'."
+
+"But excep' she war ashamed o' 't, she wadna tak it sae muckle to
+hert to be remin't o' 't."
+
+"Mony ane's ashamed o' the consequences 'at's no ashamed o' the
+deed. Mony ane cud du the sin ower again, 'at canna bide the sicht
+or even the word o' 't. I hae seen a body 't wad steal a thing as
+sune's luik at it gang daft wi' rage at bein' ca'd a thief. An'
+maybe she wadna care gien 't warna for the oogliness o' 'im. Sae
+be he was a bonny sin,  thinkin' she wad hide him weel eneuch.
+But seein' he 's naither i' the image o' her 'at bore 'im nor him
+'at got 'im, but beirs on 's back, for ever in her sicht, the sin
+'at was the gettin' o' 'in, he's a' hump to her, an' her hert's
+aye howkin a grave for 'im to lay 'im oot o' sicht intill she bore
+'im, an' she wad beery 'im. An'  thinkin' she beirs the markis
+--gien sae it be sae--deid an' gane as he is--a grutch yet,
+for passin' sic an offspring upo' her, an' syne no merryin' her
+efter an' a', an' the ro'd clear o' baith 'at stude atween them.
+It was said 'at the man 'at killt 'im in a twasum fecht (duel),
+sae mony a year efter, was a freen' o' hers."
+
+"But wad fowk du sic awfu' ill things, mem--her a merried woman,
+an' him a merried man?"
+
+"There's nae sayin', laddie, what a hantle o' men and some women
+wad du. I hae muckle to be thankfu' for 'at I was sic as no man
+ever luikit twice at. I wasna weel faured eneuch; though I had
+bonny hair, an' my mither aye said 'at her Maggy hed guid sense;
+whatever else she micht or micht not hae. But gien I cud hae gotten
+a guid man, siclike's is scarce, I cud hae lo'ed him weel eneuch.
+But that's naither here nor there, an' has naething to du wi'
+onybody ava. The pint I had to come till was this: the wuman ye saw
+haudin' a toot moot (tout muet?) wi' that Cat'nach wife, was nane
+ither, I do believe, than Mistress Stewart, the puir laird's mither.
+An' I hae as little doobt that whan ye tuik 's pairt, ye broucht
+to noucht a plot o' the twasum (two together) against him. It bodes
+guid to naebody whan there's a conjunc o' twa sic wanderin' stars
+o' blackness as you twa."
+
+"His ain mither!" exclaimed Malcolm, brooding in horror over the
+frightful conjecture.
+
+The door opened, and the mad laird came in. His eyes were staring
+wide, but their look and that of his troubled visage showed that
+he was awake only in some frightful dream. "Father o' lichts!" he
+murmured once and again, but making wild gestures, as if warding
+off blows. Miss Horn took him gently by the hand. The moment he
+felt her touch, his face grew calm, and he submitted at once to be
+led back to bed.
+
+"Ye may tak yer aith upo' 't, Ma'colm," she said when she returned,
+"she means naething but ill by that puir cratur; but you and me--
+we'll ding (defeat) her yet, gien't be his wull. She wants a grip
+o' 'm for some ill rizzon or ither--to lock him up in a madhoose,
+maybe, as the villains said, or 'deed, maybe, to mak awa' wi' him
+a'thegither."
+
+"But what guid wad that du her?" said Malcolm.
+
+"It's ill to say, but she wad hae him oot o' her sicht, ony gait."
+
+"She can hae but little sicht o' him as 'tis," objected Malcolm.
+
+"Ay! but she aye kens he's whaur she doesna ken, puttin' her to
+shame, a' aboot the country, wi' that hump o' his. Oot o' fowk's
+sicht wad be to her oot a' thegither."
+
+A brief silence followed.
+
+"Noo," said Malcolm, "we come to the question what the twa limmers
+could want wi' that door."
+
+"Dear kens! It bude to be something wrang--that's a' 'at mortal
+can say; but ye may be sure o' that--I hae hard tell," she went
+on reflectingly--"o' some room or ither i' the hoose 'at there's
+a fearsome story aboot, an' 'at 's never opent on no accoont. I hae
+hard a' aboot it, but I canna min' upo' 't noo, for I paid little
+attention till 't at the time, an' it 's mony a year sin' syne. But
+it wad be some deevilich ploy o' their ain they wad be efter: it 's
+little the likes o' them wad heed sic auld warld tales."
+
+"Wad ye hae me tell the markis?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"Na, I wad no; an' yet ye maun du 't. Ye hae no business to ken o'
+onything wrang in a body's hoose, an' no tell them--forbye 'at he
+pat ye in chairge. But it 'll du naething for the laird; for what
+cares the markis for onything or onybody but himsel'?"
+
+"He cares for 's dauchter," said Malcolm.
+
+"Ow ay!--as sic fowk ca' carin'. There's no a bla'guard i' the
+haill queentry he wadna sell her till, sae be he was o' an auld
+eneuch faimily, and had rowth o' siller. Haith! noo a days the
+last 'ill come first, an' a fish cadger wi' siller 'ill be coontit
+a better bargain nor a lord wantin 't: only he maun hae a heap o'
+'t, to cower the stink o' the fish."
+
+"Dinna scorn the fish, mem," said Malcolm: "they're innocent craturs,
+an' dinna smell waur nor they can help; an' that's mair nor ye can
+say for ilka lord ye come athort."
+
+"Ay, or cadger aither," rejoined Miss Horn. "They're aft eneuch
+jist sic like, the main differ lyin' in what they're defiled wi';
+an' 'deed whiles there's no differ there, or maist ony gait, maybe,
+but i' the set o' the shoothers, an' the wag o' the tongue."
+
+"An' what 'll we du wi' the laird?" said Malcolm.
+
+"We maun first see what we can du wi' him. I wad try to keep him
+mysel', that is, gien he wad bide--but there's that jaud Jean!
+She's aye gabbin', an' claikin', an' cognostin' wi' the enemy,
+an' I canna lippen till her. I think it wad be better ye sud tak
+chairge o' 'm yersel', Malcolm. I wad willin'ly beir ony expense
+--for ye wadna be able to luik efter him an' du sae weel at the
+fishin', ye ken."
+
+"Gien 't had been my ain line fishin', I could aye ha' taen him i'
+the boat wi' me; but I dinna ken for the herrin'. Blue Peter wadna
+objeck, but it 's some much work, an' for a waikly body like the
+laird to be oot a' nicht some nichts, sic weather as we hae to
+encoonter whiles, micht be the deid o' 'm."
+
+They came to no conclusion beyond this, that each would think it
+over, and Malcolm would call in the morning. Ere then, however,
+the laird had dismissed the question for them. When Miss Horn rose,
+after an all but sleepless night, she found that he had taken the
+affairs again into his own feeble hands, and vanished.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI: NOT AT CHURCH
+
+
+It being well known that Joseph Mair's cottage was one of the
+laird's resorts, Malcolm, as soon as he learned his flight, set
+out to inquire whether they knew anything of him there.
+
+Scaurnose was perched almost on the point of the promontory, where
+the land made its final slope, ending in a precipitous descent to
+the shore. Beneath lay rocks of all sizes and of fantastic forms,
+some fallen from the cape in tempests perhaps, some softly separated
+from it by the slow action of the winds and waves of centuries. A
+few of them formed, by their broken defence seawards, the unsafe
+natural harbour which was all the place enjoyed.
+
+If ever there was a place of one colour it was this village: everything
+was brown; the grass near it was covered with brown nets; at the
+doors were brown heaps of oak bark, which, after dyeing the nets,
+was used for fuel; the cottages were roofed with old brown thatch;
+and the one street and the many closes were dark brown with the
+peaty earth which, well mixed with scattered bark, scantily covered
+the surface of its huge foundation rock. There was no pavement, and
+it was the less needed that the ways were rarely used by wheels of
+any description. The village was but a roost, like the dwellings
+of the sea birds which also haunted the rocks.
+
+It was a gray morning with a gray sky and a gray sea; all was brown
+and gray, peaceful and rather sad. Brown haired, gray eyed Phemy
+Mair sat in the threshold, intently rubbing in her hands a small
+object like a moonstone. That she should be doing so on a Sunday
+would have shocked few in Scaurnose at that time, for the fisher
+folk then made but small pretensions to religion; and for his part
+Joseph Mair could not believe that the Almighty would be offended
+"at seein' a bairn sittin' douce wi' her playocks, though the day
+was his."
+
+"Weel, Phemy, ye're busy!" said Malcolm.
+
+"Ay," answered the child, without looking up. The manner was not
+courteous, but her voice was gentle and sweet.
+
+"What are ye doin' there?" he asked.
+
+"Makin' a string o' beads, to weir at aunty's merriage."
+
+"What are ye makin' them o'?" he went on.
+
+"Haddicks' een."
+
+"Are they a' haddicks'?"
+
+"Na, there's some cods' amo' them; but they're maistly haddicks'.
+I pikes them out afore they're sautit, an' biles them; an' syne I
+polish them i' my han's till they're rale bonny."
+
+"Can ye tell me onything about the mad laird, Phemy?" asked Malcolm,
+in his anxiety too abruptly.
+
+"Ye can gang an' speir at my father: he's oot aboot," she answered,
+with a sort of marked coolness, which, added to the fact that
+she had never looked him in the face, made him more than suspect
+something behind.
+
+"Div ye ken onything aboot him?" he therefore insisted.
+
+"Maybe I div, an' maybe I divna," answered the child, with an
+expression of determined mystery.
+
+"Ye'll tell me whaur ye think he is, Phemy?"
+
+"Na, I winna."
+
+"What for no?"
+
+"Ow, jist for fear ye sud ken."
+
+"But  a freen' till him."
+
+"Ye may think ay, an' the laird may think no."
+
+"Does he think you a freen', Phemy?" asked Malcolm, in the hope of
+coming at something by widening the sweep of the conversation.
+
+"Ay, he kens  a freen'," she replied.
+
+"An' do ye aye ken whaur he is?"
+
+"Na, no aye. He gangs here an' he gangs there--jist as he likes.
+It's whan naebody kens whaur he is, that I ken, an' gang till him."
+
+"Is he i' the hoose?"
+
+"Na, he's no i' the hoose."
+
+"Whaur is he than, Phemy?" said Malcolm coaxingly. "There's ill
+fowk aboot 'at's efter deein' him an ill turn."
+
+"The mair need no to tell!" retorted Phemy.
+
+"But I want to tak care 'o 'im. Tell me whaur he is, like a guid
+lassie, Phemy."
+
+" no sure. I may say I dinna ken."
+
+"Ye say ye ken whan ither fowk disna: noo naebody kens."
+
+"Hoo ken ye that?"
+
+"'Cause he's run awa."
+
+"Wha frae? His mither?"
+
+"Na, na; frae Miss Horn."
+
+"I ken naething aboot her; but gien naebody kens, I ken whaur he
+is weel eneuch."
+
+"Whaur than? Ye'll be duin' him a guid turn to tell me."
+
+"Whaur I winna tell, an' whaur you nor nae ither body s' get him.
+An' ye needna speir, for it wadna be richt to tell; an' gien ye
+gang on speirin', you an' me winna be lang freen's."
+
+As she spoke, the child looked straight up into his face with wide
+opened blue eyes, as truthful as the heavens, and Malcolm dared
+not press her, for it would have been to press her to do wrong.
+
+"Ye wad tell yer father, wadna ye?" he said kindly.
+
+"My father wadna speir. My father's a guid man."
+
+"Weel, Phemy, though ye winna trust me--supposin' I was to trust
+you?"
+
+"Ye can du that gien ye like."
+
+"An' ye winna tell?"
+
+"I s' mak nae promises. It's no trustin', to gar me promise."
+
+"Weel, I wull trust ye.--Tell the laird to haud weel oot o' sicht
+for a while."
+
+"He'll du that," said Phemy.
+
+"An' tell him gien onything befa' him, to sen' to Miss Horn, for
+Ma'colm MacPhail may be oot wi' the boats.--Ye winna forget that?"
+
+" no lickly to forget it," answered Phemy, apparently absorbed
+in boring a hole in a haddock's eye with a pin so bent as to act
+like a brace and bit.
+
+"Ye'll no get yer string o' beads in time for the weddin', Phemy,"
+remarked Malcolm, going on to talk from a desire to give the child
+a feeling of his friendliness.
+
+"Ay will I--fine that," she rejoined.
+
+"Whan is 't to be?"
+
+"Ow, neist Setterday. Ye'll be comin' ower?"
+
+"I haena gotten a call."
+
+"Ye 'll be gettin ane.
+
+"Div ye think they'll gie me ane?"
+
+"As sune 's onybody.--Maybe by that time I'll be able to gie ye
+some news o' the laird."
+
+"There's a guid lassie!"
+
+"Na, na;  makin' nae promises," said Phemy.
+
+Malcolm left her and went to find her father, who, although it
+was Sunday, was already "oot aboot," as she had said. He found him
+strolling in meditation along the cliffs. They had a little talk
+together, but Joseph knew nothing of the laird.
+
+Malcolm took Lossie House on his way back, for he had not yet seen
+the marquis, to whom he must report his adventures of the night
+before. The signs of past revelling were plentifully visible as he
+approached the house. The marquis was not yet up, but Mrs Courthope
+undertaking to send him word as soon as his lordship was to be
+seen, he threw himself on the grass and waited--his mind occupied
+with strange questions, started by the Sunday coming after such a
+Saturday--among the rest, how God could permit a creature to be
+born so distorted and helpless as the laird, and then permit him
+to be so abused in consequence of his helplessness. The problems
+of life were beginning to bite. Everywhere things appeared uneven.
+He was not one to complain of mere external inequalities: if he was
+inclined to envy Lord Meikleham, it was not because of his social
+position: he was even now philosopher enough to know that the life
+of a fisherman was preferable to that of such a marquis as Lord
+Lossie--that the desirableness of a life is to be measured by
+the amount of interest and not by the amount of ease in it, for the
+more ease the more unrest; neither was he inclined to complain of
+the gulf that yawned so wide between him and Lady Florimel; the
+difficulty lay deeper: such a gulf existing, by a social law only
+less inexorable than a natural one, why should he feel the rent
+invading his individual being? in a word, though Malcolm put it in
+no such definite shape: Why should a fisher lad find himself in
+danger of falling in love with the daughter of a marquis? Why should
+such a thing, seeing the very constitution of things rendered it
+an absurdity, be yet a possibility?
+
+The church bell began, rang on, and ceased. The sound of the psalms
+came, softly mellowed, and sweetly harmonized, across the churchyard
+through the gray Sabbath air, and he found himself, for the first
+time, a stray sheep from the fold. The service must have been half
+through before a lackey, to whom Mrs Courthope had committed the
+matter when she went to church, brought him the message that the
+marquis would see him.
+
+"Well, MacPhail, what do you want with me?" said his lordship as
+he entered.
+
+"It's my duty to acquaint yer lordship wi' certain proceedin's 'at
+took place last night," answered Malcolm.
+
+"Go on," said the marquis.
+
+Thereupon Malcolm began at the beginning, and told of the men he
+had watched, and how, in the fancy of following them, he had found
+himself in the garret, and what he saw and did there.
+
+"Did you recognize either of the women?" asked Lord Lossie.
+
+"Ane o' them, my lord," answered Malcolm. "It was Mistress Catanach,
+the howdie."
+
+"What sort of a woman is she?"
+
+"Some fowk canna bide her, my lord. I ken no ill to lay till her
+chairge, but I winna lippen till her. My gran'father--an' he's
+blin', ye ken--jist trimles whan she comes near him."
+
+The marquis smiled.
+
+"What do you suppose she was about?" he asked.
+
+"I ken nae mair than the bonnet I flang in her face, my lord; but
+it could hardly be guid she was efter. At ony rate, seein' yer
+lordship pat me in a mainner in chairge, I bude to haud her oot
+o' a closed room--an' her gaein' creepin' aboot yer lordship's
+hoose like a worm."
+
+"Quite right. Will you pull the bell there for me?"
+
+He told the man to send Mrs Courthope; but he said she had not yet
+come home from church.
+
+"Could you take me to the room, MacPhail?" asked his lordship.
+
+"I'll try, my lord," answered Malcolm. As far as the proper quarter
+of the attics, he went straight as a pigeon; in that labyrinth he
+had to retrace his steps once or twice, but at length he stopped,
+and said confidently--"This is the door, my lord."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"As sure's death, my lord."
+
+The marquis tried the door and found it immovable. "You say she
+had the key?"
+
+"No, my lord: I said she had keys, but whether she had the key, I
+doobt if she kent hersel'. It may ha' been ane o' the bundle yet
+to try."
+
+"You're a sharp fellow," said the marquis. "I wish I had such a
+servant about me."
+
+"I wad mak a some rouch ane, I doobt," returned Malcolm, laughing.
+
+His lordship was of another mind, but pursued the subject no farther.
+
+"I have a vague recollection," he said, "of some room in the house
+having an old story or legend connected with it. I must find out.
+I daresay Mrs Courthope knows. Meantime you hold your tongue. We
+may get some amusement out of this."
+
+"I wull, my lord, like a deid man an' beeryt."
+
+"You can--can you?"
+
+"I can, my lord."
+
+"You're a rare one!" said the marquis.
+
+Malcolm thought he was making game of him as heretofore, and held
+his peace.
+
+"You can go home now," said his lordship. "I will see to this
+affair."
+
+"But jist be canny middlin' wi' Mistress Catanach, my lord: she's
+no mowse."
+
+"What! you're not afraid of an old woman?"
+
+"Deil a bit, my lord!--that is,  no feart at a dogfish or a
+rottan, but I wud tak tent an' grip them the richt gait, for they
+hae teeth. Some fowk think Mistress Catanach has mair teeth nor
+she shaws."
+
+"Well, if she's too much for me, I'll send for you," said the
+marquis good humouredly.
+
+"Ye canna get me sae easy, my lord: we're efter the herrin' noo."
+
+"Well, well, we'll see."
+
+"But I wantit to tell ye anither thing my lord," said Malcolm, as
+he followed the marquis down the stairs.
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"I cam upo' anither plot--a mair serious ane, bein' against a man
+'at can ill haud aff o' himsel', an' cud waur bide onything than
+yer lordship--the puir mad laird."
+
+"Who's he?"
+
+"Ilka body kens him, my lord! He's son to the leddy o' Kirkbyres."
+
+"I remember her--an old flame of my brother's."
+
+"I ken naething aboot that, my lord; but he's her son."
+
+"What about him, then?"
+
+They had now reached the hall, and, seeing the marquis impatient,
+Malcolm confined himself to the principal facts.
+
+"I don't think you had any business to interfere, MacPhail," said
+his lordship, seriously. "His mother must know best."
+
+" no sae sure o' that, my lord! To say naething o' the ill
+guideship, which micht hae 'garred a minister sweer, it wud be
+a cruelty naething short o' deev'lich to lock up a puir hairmless
+cratur like that, as innocent as he 's ill shapit."
+
+"He's as God made him," said the marquis.
+
+"He 's no as God wull mak him," returned Malcolm.
+
+"What do you mean by that?" asked the marquis.
+
+"It stan's to rizzon, my lord," answered Malcolm, "that what's ill
+made maun be made ower again. There's a day comin' whan a' 'at's
+wrang 'll be set richt, ye ken."
+
+"And the crooked made straight," suggested the marquis laughing.
+
+"Doobtless, my lord. He'll be strauchtit oot bonny that day," said
+Malcolm with absolute seriousness.
+
+"Bah! You don't think God cares about a misshapen lump of flesh
+like that!" exclaimed his lordship with contempt.
+
+"As muckle's aboot yersel', or my leddy," said Malcolm. "Gien he
+didna, he wadna be nae God ava' (at all)."
+
+The marquis laughed again: he heard the words with his ears,
+but his heart was deaf to the thought they clothed; hence he took
+Malcolm's earnestness for irreverence, and it amused him.
+
+"You've not got to set things right, anyhow," he said. "You mind
+your own business."
+
+"I'll try, my lord: it 's the business o' ilka man, whaur he can,
+to lowse the weichty birns, an' lat the forfouchten gang free. Guid
+day to ye, my lord."
+
+So saying the young fisherman turned, and left the marquis laughing
+in the hall.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII: LORD GERNON
+
+
+When his housekeeper returned from church, Lord Lossie sent for
+her.
+
+"Sit down, Mrs Courthope," he said; "I want to ask you about a
+story I have a vague recollection of hearing when I spent a summer
+at this house some twenty years ago. It had to do with a room in
+the house that was never opened."
+
+"There is such a story, my lord," answered the housekeeper. "The
+late marquis, I remember well, used to laugh at it, and threaten
+now and then to dare the prophecy; but old Eppie persuaded him not
+--or at least fancied she did."
+
+"Who is old Eppie?"
+
+"She's gone now, my lord. She was over a hundred then. She was born
+and brought up in the house, lived all her days in it, and died in
+it; so she knew more about the place than any one else."
+
+"Is ever likely to know," said the marquis, superadding a close to
+her sentence. "And why wouldn't she have the room opened?" he asked.
+
+"Because of the ancient prophecy, my lord."
+
+"I can't recall a single point of the story."
+
+"I wish old Eppie were alive to tell it," said Mrs Courthope.
+
+"Don't you know it then?"
+
+"Yes, pretty well; but my English tongue can't tell it properly.
+It doesn't sound right out of my mouth. I've heard it a good many
+times too, for I had often to take a visitor to her room to hear
+it, and the old woman liked nothing better than telling it. But
+I couldn't help remarking that it had grown a good bit even in my
+time. The story was like a tree: it got bigger every year."
+
+"That's the way with a good many stories," said the marquis. "But
+tell me the prophecy at least."
+
+"That is the only part I can give just as she gave it. It's in
+rhyme. I hardly understand it, but  sure of the words."
+
+"Let us have them then, if you please."
+
+Mrs Courthope reflected for a moment, and then repeated the following
+lines:
+
+"The lord quha wad sup on 3 thowmes o' cauld airn,
+The ayr quha wad kythe a bastard and carena,
+The mayd quha wad tyne her man and her bairn,
+Lift the neck, and enter, and fearna."
+
+"That's it, my lord," she said, in conclusion. "And there's one
+thing to be observed," she added, "--that that door is the only
+one in all the passage that has a sneck, as they call it."
+
+"What is a sneck?" asked his lordship, who was not much of a scholar
+in his country's tongue.
+
+"What we call a latch in England, my lord. I took pains to learn
+the Scotch correctly, and I've repeated it to your lordship, word
+for word."
+
+"I don't doubt it," returned Lord Lossie, "but for the sense, I can
+make nothing of it.--And you think my brother believed the story?"
+
+"He always laughed at it, my lord, but pretended at least to give
+in to old Eppie's entreaties."
+
+"You mean that he was more near believing it than he liked to
+confess?"
+
+"That's not what I mean, my lord."
+
+"Why do you say pretended then?"
+
+"Because when the news of his death came, some people about the
+place would have it that he must have opened the door some time or
+other."
+
+"How did they make that out?"
+
+"From the first line of the prophecy."
+
+"Repeat it again."
+
+"The lord quha wad sup on 3 thowmes o' cauld airn," said Mrs
+Courthope with emphasis, adding, "The three she always said was a
+figure 3."
+
+"That implies it was written somewhere!"
+
+"She said it was legible on the door in her day--as if burnt with
+a red hot iron."
+
+"And what does the line mean?"
+
+"Eppie said it meant that the lord of the place who opened that
+door, would die by a sword wound. Three inches of cold iron, it
+means, my lord."
+
+The marquis grew thoughtful; his brother had died in a sword duel.
+For a few moments he was silent.
+
+"Tell me the whole story," he said at length.
+
+Mrs Courthope again reflected, and began. I will tell the story,
+however, in my own words, reminding my reader that if he regards
+it as an unwelcome interruption, he can easily enough avoid this
+bend of the river of my narrative by taking a short cut across to
+the next chapter.
+
+In an ancient time there was a lord of Lossie who practised unholy
+works. Although he had other estates, he lived almost entirely at
+the House of Lossie--that is, after his return from the East,
+where he had spent his youth and early manhood. But he paid no
+attention to his affairs: a steward managed everything for him,
+and Lord Gernon (for that was the outlandish name he brought from
+England, where he was born while his father was prisoner to Edward
+Longshanks) trusted him for a great while without making the least
+inquiry into his accounts, apparently contented with receiving
+money enough to carry on the various vile experiments which seemed
+his sole pleasure in life. There was no doubt in the minds of the
+people of the town--the old town that is, which was then much
+larger, and clustered about the gates of the House--that he had
+dealings with Satan, from whom he had gained authority over the
+powers of nature; that he was able to rouse and lay the winds, to
+bring down rain, to call forth the lightnings and set the thunders
+roaring over town and sea; nay, that he could even draw vessels
+ashore on the rocks, with the certainty that not one on board would
+be left alive to betray the pillage of the wreck: this and many
+other deeds of dire note were laid to his charge in secret. The
+town cowered at the foot of the House in terror of what its lord
+might bring down upon it--as a brood of chickens might cower if
+they had been hatched by a kite, and saw, instead of the matronly
+head and beak of the hen of their instinct, those of the bird of
+prey projected over them. Scarce one of them dared even look from the
+door when the thunder was rolling over their heads, the lightnings
+flashing about the roofs and turrets of the House, the wind raving
+in fits between as if it would rave its last, and the rain falling
+in sheets--not so much from fear of the elements, as for horror
+of the far more terrible things that might be spied careering in the
+storm. And indeed Lord Gernon himself was avoided in like fashion,
+although rarely had any one the evil chance of seeing him, so seldom
+did he go out of doors. There was but one in the whole community
+--and that was a young girl, the daughter of his steward--who
+declared she had no fear of him: she went so far as to uphold that
+Lord Gernon meant harm to nobody, and was in consequence regarded
+by the neighbours as unrighteously bold.
+
+He worked in a certain lofty apartment on the ground floor--with
+cellars underneath, reserved, it was believed, for frightfullest
+conjurations and interviews; where, although no one was permitted
+to enter, they knew from the smoke that he had a furnace, and
+from the evil smells which wandered out, that he dealt with things
+altogether devilish in their natures and powers. They said he always
+washed there--in water medicated with distilments to prolong life
+and produce invulnerability; but of this they could of course know
+nothing. Strange to say, however, he always slept in the garret,
+as far removed from his laboratory as the limits of the house would
+permit; whence people said he dared not sleep in the neighbourhood
+of his deeds, but sought shelter for his unconscious hours in the
+spiritual shadow of the chapel, which was in the same wing as his
+chamber. His household saw nearly as little of him as his retainers:
+when his tread was heard, beating dull on the stone turnpike, or
+thundering along the upper corridors in the neighbourhood of his
+chamber or of the library--the only other part of the house he
+visited, man or maid would dart aside into the next way of escape
+--all believing that the nearer he came to finding himself the sole
+inhabitant of his house, the better he was pleased. Nor would he
+allow man or woman to enter his chamber any more than his laboratory.
+When they found sheets or garments outside his door, they removed
+them with fear and trembling, and put others in their place.
+
+At length, by means of his enchantments, he discovered that the
+man whom he had trusted had been robbing him for many years: all
+the time he had been searching for the philosopher's stone, the
+gold already his had been tumbling into the bags of his steward.
+But what enraged him far more was, that the fellow had constantly
+pretended difficulty in providing the means necessary for the
+prosecution of his idolized studies: even if the feudal lord could
+have accepted the loss and forgiven the crime, here was a mockery
+which the man of science could not pardon. He summoned his steward
+to his presence, and accused him of his dishonesty. The man denied
+it energetically, but a few mysterious waftures of the hand of his
+lord, set him trembling, and after a few more, his lips, moving by
+a secret compulsion, and finding no power in their owner to check
+their utterance, confessed all the truth, whereupon his master
+ordered him to go and bring his accounts. He departed all but
+bereft of his senses, and staggered home as if in a dream. There he
+begged his daughter to go and plead for him with his lord, hoping
+she might be able to move him to mercy; for she was a lovely girl,
+and supposed by the neighbours, judging from what they considered
+her foolhardiness, to have received from him tokens of something
+at least less than aversion.
+
+She obeyed, and from that hour disappeared. The people of the house
+averred afterwards that the next day, and for days following, they
+heard, at intervals, moans and cries from the wizard's chamber, or
+some where in its neighbourhood--certainly not from the laboratory;
+but as they had seen no one visit their master, they had paid them
+little attention, classing them with the other and hellish noises
+they were but too much accustomed to hear.
+
+The steward's love for his daughter, though it could not embolden
+him to seek her in the tyrant's den, drove him, at length, to
+appeal to the justice of his country for what redress might yet
+be possible: he sought the court of the great Bruce, and laid his
+complaint before him. That righteous monarch immediately despatched
+a few of his trustiest men-at-arms, under the protection of a monk
+whom he believed a match for any wizard under the sun, to arrest
+Lord Gernon and release the girl. When they arrived at Lossie House,
+they found it silent as the grave. The domestics had vanished; but
+by following the minute directions of the steward, whom no persuasion
+could bring to set foot across the threshold, they succeeded in
+finding their way to the parts of the house indicated by him. Having
+forced the laboratory and found it forsaken, they ascended, in the
+gathering dusk of a winter afternoon, to the upper regions of the
+house. Before they reached the top of the stair that led to the
+wizard's chamber, they began to hear inexplicable sounds, which
+grew plainer, though not much louder, as they drew nearer to the
+door. They were mostly like the grunting of some small animal of the
+hog kind, with an occasional one like the yelling roar of a distant
+lion; but with these were now and then mingled cries of suffering,
+so fell and strange that their souls recoiled as if they would
+break loose from their bodies to get out of hearing of them. The
+monk himself started back when first they invaded his ear, and it
+was no wonder then that the men-at-arms should hesitate to approach
+the room; and as they stood irresolute, they saw a faint light
+go flickering across the upper part of the door, which naturally
+strengthened their disinclination to go nearer.
+
+"If it weren't for the girl," said one of them in a scared whisper
+to his neighbour, "I would leave the wizard to the devil and his
+dam."
+
+Scarcely had the words left his mouth, when the door opened, and
+out came a form--whether phantom or living woman none could tell.
+Pale, forlorn, lost, and purposeless, it came straight towards them,
+with wide unseeing eyes. They parted in terror from its path. It
+went on, looking to neither hand, and sank down the stair. The moment
+it was beyond their sight, they came to themselves and rushed after
+it; but although they searched the whole house, they could find
+no creature in it, except a cat of questionable appearance and
+behaviour, which they wisely let alone. Returning, they took up a
+position whence they could watch the door of the chamber day and
+night.
+
+For three weeks they watched it, but neither cry nor other sound
+reached them. For three weeks more they watched it, and then
+an evil odour began to assail them, which grew and grew, until at
+length they were satisfied that the wizard was dead. They returned
+therefore to the king and made their report, whereupon Lord Gernon
+was decreed dead, and his heir was enfeoffed. But for many years
+he was said to be still alive; and indeed whether he had ever died
+in the ordinary sense of the word, was to old Eppie doubtful; for
+at various times there had arisen whispers of peculiar sounds, even
+strange cries, having been heard issue from that room--whispers
+which had revived in the house in Mrs Courthope's own time. No one
+had slept in that part of the roof within the memory of old Eppie:
+no one, she believed, had ever slept there since the events of her
+tale; certainly no one had in Mrs Courthope's time. It was said
+also, that, invariably, sooner or later after such cries were
+heard, some evil befell either the Lord of Lossie, or some one of
+his family.
+
+"Show me the room, Mrs Courthope," said the marquis, rising, as
+soon as she had ended.
+
+The housekeeper looked at him with some dismay.
+
+"What!" said his lordship, "you an Englishwoman and superstitious!"
+
+"I am cautious, my lord, though not a Scotchwoman," returned Mrs
+Courthope. "All I would presume to say is--Don't do it without
+first taking time to think over it."
+
+"I will not. But I want to know which room it is."
+
+Mrs Courthope led the way, and his lordship followed her to the
+very door, as he had expected, with which Malcolm had spied Mrs
+Catanach tampering. He examined it well, and on the upper part of
+it found what might be the remnants of a sunk inscription, so far
+obliterated as to convey no assurance of what it was. He professed
+himself satisfied, and they went down the stairs together again.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII: A FISHER WEDDING
+
+
+When the next Saturday came, all the friends of the bride or
+bridegroom who had "gotten a call" to the wedding of Annie Mair
+and Charley Wilson, assembled respectively at the houses of their
+parents. Malcolm had received an invitation from both, and had
+accepted that of the bride.
+
+Whisky and oatcake having been handed round, the bride, a short
+but comely young woman, set out with her father for the church,
+followed by her friends in couples. At the door of the church, which
+stood on the highest point in the parish, a centre of assault for
+all the winds that blew, they met the bridegroom and his party: the
+bride and he entered the church together, and the rest followed.
+After a brief and somewhat bare ceremony, they issued--the bride
+walking between her brother and the groomsman, each taking an
+arm of the bride, and the company following mainly in trios. Thus
+arranged they walked eastward along the highroad, to meet the
+bride's firstfoot.
+
+They had gone about halfway to Portlossie, when a gentleman
+appeared, sauntering carelessly towards them, with a cigar in his
+mouth. It was Lord Meikleham. Malcolm was not the only one who knew
+him: Lizzy Findlay, only daughter of the Partan, and the prettiest
+girl in the company, blushed crimson: she had danced with him
+at Lossie House, and he had said things to her, by way of polite
+attention, which he would never have said had she been of his own
+rank. He would have lounged past, with a careless glance, but the
+procession halted by one consent, and the bride, taking a bottle
+and glass which her brother carried, proceeded to pour out a bumper
+of whisky, while the groomsman addressed Lord Meikleham.
+
+"ye're the bride's first fut, sir," he said.
+
+"What do you mean by that?" asked Lord Meikleham.
+
+"Here's the bride, sir: she'll tell ye."
+
+Lord Meikleham lifted his hat.
+
+"Allow me to congratulate you," he said.
+
+"ye're my first fut," returned the bride eagerly yet modestly, as
+she held out to him the glass of whisky.
+
+"This is to console me for not being in the bridegroom's place,
+I presume; but notwithstanding my jealousy, I drink to the health
+of both," said the young nobleman, and tossed off the liquor.--
+"Would you mind explaining to me what you mean by this ceremony?"
+he added, to cover a slight choking caused by the strength of the
+dram.
+
+"It's for luck, sir," answered Joseph Mair. "A first fut wha wadna
+bring ill luck upon a new merried couple, maun aye du as ye hae
+dune this meenute--tak a dram frae the bride."
+
+"Is that the sole privilege connected with my good fortune?" said
+Lord Meikleham. "If I take the bride's dram, I must join the bride's
+regiment--My good fellow," he went on, approaching Malcolm, "you
+have more than your share of the best things of this world."
+
+For Malcolm had two partners, and the one on the side next Lord
+Meikleham, who, as he spoke, offered her his arm, was Lizzy Findlay.
+
+"No as shares gang, my lord," returned Malcolm, tightening his arm
+on Lizzie's hand. "Ye mauna gang wi' ane o' oor customs to gang
+agane anither. Fisher fowk 's ready eneuch to pairt wi' their
+whusky, but no wi' their lasses!--Na, haith!"
+
+Lord Meikleham's face flushed, and Lizzy looked down, very evidently
+disappointed; but the bride's father, a wrinkled and brown little
+man, with a more gentle bearing than most of them, interfered.
+
+"Ye see, my lord--gien it be sae I maun ca' ye, an' Ma'colm seems
+to ken--we're like by oorsel's for the present, an' we're but a
+rouch set o' fowk for such like 's yer lordship to haud word o' mou'
+wi'; but gien it wad please ye to come ower the gait ony time i'
+the evenin', an' tak yer share o' what's gauin', ye sud be walcome,
+an' we wad coont it a great honour frae sic 's yer lordship."
+
+"I shall be most happy," answered Lord Meikleham; and taking off
+his hat he went his way.
+
+The party returned to the home of the bride's parents. Her mother
+stood at the door with a white handkerchief in one hand, and a quarter
+of oatcake in the other. When the bride reached the threshold she
+stood, and her mother, first laying the handkerchief on her head,
+broke the oatcake into pieces upon it. These were distributed among
+the company, to be carried home and laid under their pillows.
+
+The bridegroom's party betook themselves to his father's house,
+where, as well as at old Mair's, a substantial meal of tea, bread
+and butter, cake, and cheese, was provided. Then followed another
+walk, to allow of both houses being made tidy for the evening's
+amusements.
+
+About seven, Lord Meikleham made his appearance, and had a hearty
+welcome. He had bought a showy brooch for the bride, which she
+accepted with the pleasure of a child. In their games, which had
+already commenced, he joined heartily, gaining high favour with
+both men and women. When the great clothesbasket full of sweeties,
+the result of a subscription among the young men, was carried round
+by two of them, he helped himself liberally with the rest; and at
+the inevitable game of forfeits met his awards with unflinching
+obedience; contriving ever through it all that Lizzy Findlay should
+feel herself his favourite. In the general hilarity, neither the
+heightened colour of her cheek, nor the vivid sparkle in her eyes
+attracted notice. Doubtless some of the girls observed the frequency
+of his attentions, but it woke nothing in their minds beyond a
+little envy of her passing good fortune.
+
+Meikleham was handsome and a lord; Lizzy was pretty though a
+fisherman's daughter: a sort of Darwinian selection had apparently
+found place between them; but as the same entertainment was going
+on in two houses at once, and there was naturally a good deal of
+passing and repassing between them, no one took the least notice
+of several short absences from the company on the part of the pair.
+
+Supper followed, at which his lordship sat next to Lizzy, and partook
+of dried skate and mustard, bread and cheese, and beer. Every man
+helped himself. Lord Meikleham and a few others were accommodated
+with knives and forks, but the most were independent of such
+artificial aids. Whisky came next, and Lord Meikleham being already,
+like many of the young men of his time, somewhat fond of strong
+drink, was not content with such sipping as Lizzy honoured his
+glass withal.
+
+At length it was time, according to age long custom, to undress the
+bride and bridegroom and put them to bed--the bride's stocking,
+last ceremony of all, being thrown amongst the company, as by its
+first contact prophetic of the person to be next married. Neither
+Lizzy nor Lord Meikleham, however, had any chance of being thus
+distinguished, for they were absent and unmissed.
+
+As soon as all was over, Malcolm set out to return home. As he
+passed Joseph Mair's cottage, he found Phemy waiting for him at
+the door, still in the mild splendour of her pearl-like necklace.
+
+"I tellt the laird what ye tellt me to tell him, Malcolm," she
+said.
+
+"An' what did he say, Phemy?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"He said he kent ye was a freen'."
+
+"Was that a'?"
+
+"Ay; that was a'."
+
+"Weel, ye're a guid lassie."
+
+"Ow! middlin'," answered the little maiden.
+
+Malcolm took his way along the top of the cliffs, pausing now and
+then to look around him. The crescent moon had gone down, leaving
+a starlit night, in which the sea lay softly moaning at the foot of
+the broken crags. The sense of infinitude which comes to the soul
+when it is in harmony with the peace of nature, arose and spread
+itself abroad in Malcolm's being, and he felt with the Galilaeans
+of old, when they forsook their nets and followed him who called
+them, that catching fish was not the end of his being, although it
+was the work his hands had found to do. The stillness was all the
+sweeter for its contrast with the merriment he had left behind
+him, and a single breath of wind, like the waft from a passing
+wind, kissed his forehead tenderly, as if to seal the truth of his
+meditations.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX: FLORIMEL AND DUNCAN
+
+
+In the course of a fortnight, Lord Meikleham and his aunt, the bold
+faced countess, had gone, and the marquis, probably finding it a
+little duller in consequence, began to pay visits in the neighbourhood.
+Now and then he would be absent for a week or two--at Bog o'
+Gight, or Huntly Lodge, or Frendraught, or Balvenie, and although
+Lady Florimel had not much of his society, she missed him at meals,
+and felt the place grown dreary from his being nowhere within its
+bounds.
+
+On his return from one of his longer absences, he began to talk to
+her about a governess; but, though in a playful way, she rebelled
+utterly at the first mention of such an incubus. She had plenty of
+material for study, she said, in the library, and plenty of amusement
+in wandering about with the sullen Demon, who was her constant
+companion during his absences; and if he did force a governess upon
+her, she would certainly murder the woman, if only for the sake of
+bringing him into trouble. Her easygoing father was amused, laughed,
+and said nothing more on the subject at the time.
+
+Lady Florimel did not confess that she had begun to feel her life
+monotonous, or mention that she had for some time been cultivating
+the acquaintance of a few of her poor neighbours, and finding
+their odd ways of life and thought and speech interesting. She had
+especially taken a liking to Duncan MacPhail, in which, strange to
+say, Demon, who had hitherto absolutely detested the appearance of
+any one not attired as a lady or gentleman, heartily shared. She
+found the old man so unlike anything she had ever heard or read
+of--so full of grand notions in such contrast with his poor
+conditions; so proud yet so overflowing with service--dusting
+a chair for her with his bonnet, yet drawing himself up like an
+offended hidalgo if she declined to sit in it--more than content
+to play the pipes while others dined, yet requiring a personal
+apology from the marquis himself for a practical joke! so full
+of kindness and yet of revenges--lamenting over Demon when he
+hurt his foot, yet cursing, as she overheard him once, in fancied
+solitude, with an absolute fervour of imprecation, a continuous
+blast of poetic hate which made her shiver; and the next moment
+sighing out a most wailful coronach on his old pipes. It was all
+so odd, so funny, so interesting! It nearly made her aware of human
+nature as an object of study. But lady Florimel had never studied
+anything yet, had never even perceived that anything wanted studying,
+that is, demanded to be understood. What appeared to her most odd,
+most inconsistent, and was indeed of all his peculiarities alone
+distasteful to her, was his delight in what she regarded only as
+the menial and dirty occupation of cleaning lamps and candlesticks;
+the poetic side of it, rendered tenfold poetic by his blindness,
+she never saw.
+
+Then he had such tales to tell her--of mountain, stream, and
+lake; of love and revenge; of beings less and more than natural
+--brownie and Boneless, kelpie and fairy; such wild legends also,
+haunting the dim emergent peaks of mist swathed Celtic history; such
+songs--come down, he said, from Ossian himself--that sometimes
+she would sit and listen to him for hours together.
+
+It was no wonder then that she should win the heart of the simple
+old man speedily and utterly; for what can bard desire beyond a
+true listener--a mind into which his own may, in verse or tale or
+rhapsody, in pibroch or coronach, overflow? But when, one evening,
+in girlish merriment, she took up his pipes, blew the bag full,
+and began to let a highland air burst fitfully from the chanter,
+the jubilation of the old man broke all the bounds of reason. He
+jumped from his seat and capered about the room, calling her all
+the tenderest and most poetic names his English vocabulary would
+afford him; then abandoning the speech of the Sassenach, as if
+in despair of ever uttering himself through its narrow and rugged
+channels, overwhelmed her with a cataract of soft flowing Gaelic,
+returning to English only as his excitement passed over into
+exhaustion--but in neither case aware of the transition.
+
+Her visits were the greater comfort to Duncan, that Malcolm was now
+absent almost every night, and most days a good many hours asleep;
+had it been otherwise, Florimel, invisible for very width as was
+the gulf between them, could hardly have made them so frequent.
+Before the fishing season was over, the piper had been twenty times
+on the verge of disclosing every secret in his life to the high
+born maiden.
+
+"It's a pity you haven't a wife to take care of you, Mr MacPhail,"
+she said one evening. "You must be so lonely without a woman to
+look after you!"
+
+A dark cloud came over Duncan's face, out of which his sightless
+eyes gleamed.
+
+"She'll haf her poy, and she'll pe wanting no wife," he said
+sullenly. "Wifes is paad."
+
+"Ah!" said Florimel, the teasing spirit of her father uppermost
+for the moment, "that accounts for your swearing so shockingly the
+other day?"
+
+"Swearing was she? Tat will pe wrong. And who was she'll pe swearing
+at?"
+
+"That's what I want you to tell me, Mr MacPhail."
+
+"Tid you'll hear me, my laty?" he asked in a tone of reflection,
+as if trying to recall the circumstance.
+
+"Indeed I did. You frightened me so that I didn't dare come in."
+
+"Ten she'll pe punished enough. Put it wass no harm to curse ta
+wicket Cawmill."
+
+"It was not Glenlyon--it wasn't a man at all; it was a woman you
+were in such a rage with."
+
+"Was it ta rascal's wife, ten, my laty?" he asked, as if he were
+willing to be guided to the truth that he might satisfy her, but
+so much in the habit of swearing, that he could not well recollect
+the particular object at a given time.
+
+"Is his wife as bad as himself then?"
+
+"Wifes is aalways worser."
+
+"But what is it makes you hate him so dreadfully? Is he a bad man?"
+
+"A fery pad man, my tear laty! He is tead more than a hundert
+years."
+
+"Then why do you hate him so?"
+
+"Och hone! Ton't you'll never hear why?"
+
+"He can't have done you any harm."
+
+"Not done old Tuncan any harm! Tidn't you'll know what ta tog would pe
+toing to her aancestors of Glenco? Och hone! Och hone! Gif her ta
+tog's heart of him in her teeth, and she'll pe tearing it--tearing
+it--tearing it!" cried the piper in a growl of hate, and with
+the look of a maddened tiger, the skin of his face drawn so tight
+over the bones that they seemed to show their whiteness through
+it.
+
+"You quite terrify me," said Florimel, really shocked. "If you
+talk like that, I must go away. Such words are not fit for a lady
+to hear."
+
+The old man heard her rise: he fell on his knees, and held out his
+arms in entreaty.
+
+"She's pegging your pardons, my laty. Sit town once more, anchel
+from hefen, and she'll not say it no more. Put she'll pe telling
+you ta story, and then you'll pe knowing tat what 'll not pe fit
+for laties to hear, as coot laties had to pear!"
+
+He caught up the Lossie pipes, threw them down again, searched in
+a frenzy till he found his own, blew up the bag with short thick
+pants, forced from them a low wail, which ended in a scream--then
+broke into a kind of chant, the words of which were something like
+what follows: he had sense enough to remember that for his listener
+they must be English. Doubtless he was translating as he went on.
+His chanter all the time kept up a low pitiful accompaniment, his
+voice only giving expression to the hate and execration of the
+song.
+
+Black rise the hills round the vale of Glenco;
+Hard rise its rocks up the sides of the sky;
+Cold fall the streams from the snow on their summits;
+Bitter are the winds that search for the wanderer;
+False are the vapours that trail o'er the correi
+Blacker than caverns that hollow the mountain,
+Harder than crystals in the rock's bosom
+Colder than ice borne down in the torrents,
+More bitter than hail windswept o'er the correi,
+Falser than vapours that hide the dark precipice,
+Is the heart of the Campbell, the hell hound Glenlyon.
+
+Is it blood that is streaming down into the valley?
+Ha! 'tis the red coated blood hounds of Orange.
+
+To hunt the red deer, is this a fit season?
+Glenlyon, said Ian, the son of the chieftain:
+What seek ye with guns and with gillies so many?
+
+Friends, a warm fire, good cheer, and a drink,
+Said the liar of hell, with the death in his heart.
+
+Come home to my house--it is poor, but your own.
+
+Cheese of the goat, and flesh of black cattle,
+And dew of the mountain to make their hearts joyful,
+They gave them in plenty, they gave them with welcome;
+And they slept on the heather, and skins of the red deer.
+
+Och hone for the chief! God's curse on the traitors!
+Och hone for the chief--the father of his people!
+He is struck through the brain, and not in the battle!
+
+Och hone for his lady! the teeth of the badgers
+Have torn the bright rings from her slender fingers!
+They have stripped her and shamed her in sight of her clansmen!
+They have sent out her ghost to cry after her husband.
+
+Nine men did Glenlyon slay, nine of the true hearts!
+His own host he slew, the laird of Inverriggen.
+
+Fifty they slew--the rest fled to the mountains.
+In the deep snow the women and children
+Fell down and slept, nor awoke in the morning.
+
+The bard of the glen, alone among strangers,
+Allister, bard of the glen and the mountain,
+Sings peace to the ghost of his father's father,
+Slain by the curse of Glenco, Glenlyon.
+
+Curse on Glenlyon! His wife's fair bosom
+Dry up with weeping the fates of her children!
+Curse on Glenlyon! Each drop of his heart's blood
+Turn to red fire and hum through his arteries!
+The pale murdered faces haunt him to madness!
+The shrieks of the ghosts from the mists of Glenco
+Ring in his ears through the caves of perdition!
+Man, woman, and child, to the last born Campbell,
+Rush howling to hell, and fall cursing Glenlyon--
+The liar who drank with his host and then slew him!
+
+While he chanted, the whole being of the bard seemed to pour itself
+out in the feeble and quavering tones that issued from his withered
+throat. His voice grew in energy for a while as he proceeded, but
+at last gave way utterly under the fervour of imprecation, and ceased.
+Then, as if in an agony of foiled hate, he sent from chanter and
+drone a perfect screech of execration, with which the instrument
+dropped from his hands, and he fell back in his chair, speechless.
+
+Lady Florimel started to her feet, and stood trembling for a moment,
+hesitating whether to run from the cottage and call for help, or
+do what she might for the old man herself. But the next moment he
+came to himself, saying, in a tone of assumed composure:
+
+"You'll pe knowing now, my laty, why she'll pe hating ta very name
+of Clenlyon."
+
+"But it was not your grandfather that Glenlyon killed, Mr MacPhail
+--was it?"
+
+"And whose grandfather would it pe then, my lady?" returned Duncan,
+drawing himself up.
+
+"The Glenco people weren't MacPhails. I've read the story of the
+massacre, and know all about that."
+
+"He might haf been her mother's father, my laty."
+
+"But you said father's father, in your song."
+
+"She said Allister's father's father, my laty, she pelieves."
+
+"I can't quite understand you, Mr MacPhail."
+
+"Well, you see, my laty, her father was out in the forty-five,
+and fought ta redcoats at Culloden. Tat's his claymore on ta wall
+there--a coot plade--though she's not an Andrew Ferrara. She
+wass forched in Clenco, py a cousin of her own, Angus py name, and
+she's a fery coot plade: she'll can well whistle ta pibroch of
+Ian Loin apout ta ears of ta Sassenach. Her crandfather wass with
+his uncle in ta pattle of Killiecrankie after Tundee--a creat
+man, my laty, and he died there; and so tid her cranduncle, for a
+fillain of a Mackay, from Lord Reay's cursed country--where they
+aalways wass repels, my laty--chust as her uncle was pe cutting
+town ta wicket Cheneral Mackay, turned him round, without gifing
+no warnings, and killed ta poor man at won plow."
+
+"But what has it all to do with your name? I declare I don't know
+what to call you."
+
+"Call her your own pard, old Tuncan MacPhail, my sweet laty, and
+haf ta patience with her, and she'll pe telling you aall apout
+eferyting, only you must gif her olt prams time to tumple temselfs
+apout. Her head grows fery stupid.--Yes, as she was saying, after
+ta ploody massacre at Culloden, her father had to hide himself away
+out of sight, and to forge himself--I mean to put upon himself a
+name tat tidn't mean himself at aal. And my poor mother, who pored
+me--pig old Tuncan--ta fery tay of ta pattle, would not be
+hearing won wort of him for tree months tat he was away; and when
+he would pe creep pack like a fox to see her one fine night when
+ta moon was not pe up, they'll make up an acreement to co away
+together for a time, and to call temselfs MacPhails. But py and py
+tey took their own nems again."
+
+"And why haven't you your own name now?  sure it 's a much prettier
+name."
+
+"Pecause she'll pe taking the other, my tear laty."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"Pecause--pecause ... She will tell you another time. She'll pe
+tired to talk more apout ta cursed Cawmills this fery tay."
+
+"Then Malcolm's name is not MacPhail either?"
+
+"No, it is not, my lady."
+
+"Is he your son's son, or your daughter's son."
+
+"Perhaps not, my laty."
+
+"I want to know what his real name is. Is it the same as yours? It
+doesn't seem respectable not to have your own names."
+
+"Oh yes, my laty, fery respectable. Many coot men has to porrow nems
+of teir neighpours. We've all cot our fery own names, only in pad
+tays, my laty, we ton't aalways know which tey are exactly; but we
+aal know which we are each other, and we get on fery coot without
+the names. We lay tem py with our Sappath clothes for a few tays,
+and they come out ta fresher and ta sweeter for keeping ta Sappath
+so long, my laty. And now she'll pe playing you ta coronach of
+Clenco, which she was make herself for her own pipes."
+
+"I want to know first what Malcolm's real name is," persisted Lady
+Florimel.
+
+"Well, you see, my laty," returned Duncan, "some people has names
+and does not know them; and some people hasn't names, and will pe
+supposing they haf."
+
+"You are talking riddles, Mr MacPhail, and I don't like riddles,"
+said Lady Florimel, with an offence which was not altogether
+pretended.
+
+"Yes surely--oh, yes! Call her Tuncan MacPhail, and neither more
+or less, my laty--not yet," he returned, most evasively.
+
+"I see you won't trust me," said the girl, and rising quickly, she
+bade him goodnight, and left the cottage.
+
+Duncan sat silent for a few minutes, as if in distress: then slowly
+his hand went out feeling for his pipes, wherewithal he consoled
+himself till bedtime.
+
+Having plumed herself upon her influence with the old man, believing
+she could do anything with him she pleased, Lady Florimel was
+annoyed at failing to get from him any amplification of a hint in
+itself sufficient to cast a glow of romance about the youth who
+had already interested her so much. Duncan also was displeased,
+but with himself; for disappointing one he loved so much. With
+the passion for confidence which love generates, he had been for
+some time desirous of opening his mind to her upon the matter in
+question, and had indeed, on this very occasion, intended to lead
+up to a certain disclosure; but just at the last he clung to his
+secret, and could not let it go.
+
+Compelled thereto against the natural impulse of the Celtic nature,
+which is open and confiding, therefore in the reaction cunning and
+suspicious, he had practised reticence so long, that he now recoiled
+from a breach of the habit which had become a second, false nature.
+He felt like one who, having caught a bird, holds it in his hand
+with the full intention of letting it go, but cannot make up his
+mind to do it just yet, knowing that, the moment he opens his hand,
+nothing can make that bird his again.
+
+A whole week passed, during which Lady Florimel did not come near
+him, and the old man was miserable. At length one evening, for she
+chose her time when Malcolm must be in some vague spot between the
+shore and the horizon, she once more entered the piper's cottage.
+He knew her step the moment she turned the corner from the shore,
+and she had scarcely set her foot across the threshold before he
+broke out:
+
+"Ach, my tear laty! and tid you'll think old Tuncan such a stoopit
+old man as not to 'll pe trusting ta light of her plind eyes? Put
+her laty must forgif her, for it is a long tale, not like anything
+you'll pe in ta way of peliefing; and aalso, it'll pe put ta
+tassel to another long tale which tears ta pag of her heart, and
+makes her feel a purning tevil in ta pocket of her posom. Put she'll
+tell you ta won half of it that pelongs to her poy Malcolm. He 's
+a pig poy now, put he wasn't aalways. No. He was once a fery little
+smaal chylt, in her old plind aarms. Put tey wasn't old ten. Why
+must young peoples crow old, my laty? Put she'll pe clad of it
+herself; for she'll can hate ta petter."
+
+Lady Florimel, incapable either of setting forth the advantages of
+growing old, or of enforcing the duty, which is the necessity, of
+forgiveness, answered with some commonplace; and as, to fortify
+his powers of narration, a sailor would cut himself a quid, and
+a gentleman fill his glass, or light a fresh cigar, Duncan slowly
+filled his bag. After a few strange notes as of a spirit wandering
+in pain, he began his story. But I will tell the tale for him, lest
+the printed oddities of his pronunciation should prove wearisome.
+I must mention first, however, that he did not commence until he had
+secured a promise from Lady Florimel that she would not communicate
+his revelations to Malcolm, having, he said, very good reasons for
+desiring to make them himself so soon as a fitting time should have
+arrived.
+
+Avoiding all mention of his reasons either for assuming another
+name or for leaving his native glen, he told how, having wandered
+forth with no companion but his bagpipes, and nothing he could call
+his own beyond the garments and weapons which he wore, he traversed
+the shires of Inverness and Nairn and Moray, offering at every house
+on his road, to play the pipes, or clean the lamps and candlesticks,
+and receiving sufficient return, mostly in the shape of food and
+shelter, but partly in money, to bring him all the way from Glenco
+to Portlossie: somewhere near the latter was a cave in which his
+father, after his flight from Culloden, had lain in hiding for six
+months, in hunger and cold, and in constant peril of discovery and
+death, all in that region being rebels--for as such Duncan of
+course regarded the adherents of the houses of Orange and Hanover;
+and having occasion, for reasons, as I have said, unexplained, in
+his turn to seek, like a hunted stag, a place far from his beloved
+glen, wherein to hide his head, he had set out to find the cave,
+which the memory of his father would render far more of a home to
+him now than any other place left him on earth.
+
+On his arrival at Portlossie, he put up at a small public house
+in the Seaton, from which he started the next morning to find the
+cave--a somewhat hopeless as well as perilous proceeding; but his
+father's description of its situation and character had generated
+such a vivid imagination of it in the mind of the old man, that he
+believed himself able to walk straight into the mouth of it; nor
+was the peril so great as must at first appear, to one who had been
+blind all his life. But he searched the whole of the east side of
+the promontory of Scaurnose, where it must lie, without finding
+such a cave as his father had depicted. Again and again he fancied
+he had come upon it, but was speedily convinced of his mistake.
+Even in one who had his eyesight, however, such a failure would
+not surprise those who understand how rapidly as well as constantly
+the whole faces of some cliffs are changing by the fall of portions
+--destroying the very existence of some caves, and utterly changing
+the mouths of others.
+
+From a desire of secrecy, occasioned by the haunting dread of its
+approaching necessity, day and night being otherwise much alike to
+him, Duncan generally chose the night for his wanderings amongst
+the rocks, and probings of their hollows. One night, or rather
+morning, for he believed it was considerably past twelve o'clock,
+he sat weary in a large open cave, listening to the sound of the
+rising tide, and fell fast asleep, his bagpipes, without which
+he never went abroad, across his knees. He came to himself with a
+violent start, for the bag seemed to be moving, and its last faint
+sound of wail was issuing. Heavens! there was a baby lying upon it.
+--For a time he sat perfectly bewildered, but at length concluded
+that some wandering gipsy had made him a too ready gift of the
+child she did not prize. Some one must be near. He called aloud, but
+there was no answer. The child began to cry. He sought to soothe
+it, and its lamentation ceased. The moment that its welcome silence
+responded to his blandishments, the still small "Here I am" of the
+Eternal Love whispered its presence in the heart of the lonely man:
+something lay in his arms so helpless that to it, poor and blind
+and forsaken of man and woman as he was, he was yet a tower of
+strength. He clasped the child to his bosom, and rising forthwith
+set out, but with warier steps than heretofore, over the rocks for
+the Seaton.
+
+Already he would have much preferred concealing him lest he should
+be claimed--a thing, in view of all the circumstances, not very
+likely--but for the child's sake, he must carry him to The Salmon,
+where he had free entrance at any hour--not even the public house
+locking its doors at night.
+
+Thither then he bore his prize, shielding him from the night air
+as well as he could, with the bag of his pipes. But he waked none
+of the inmates; lately fed, the infant slept for several hours,
+and then did his best both to rouse and astonish the neighbourhood.
+
+Closely questioned, Duncan told the truth, but cunningly, in such
+manner that some disbelieved him altogether, while others, who had
+remarked his haunting of the rocks ever since his arrival, concluded
+that he had brought the child with him and had kept him hidden
+until now. The popular conviction at length settled to this, that
+the child was the piper's grandson--but base born, whom therefore
+he was ashamed to acknowledge, although heartily willing to minister
+to and bring up as a foundling. The latter part of this conclusion,
+however, was not alluded to by Duncan in his narrative: it was enough
+to add that he took care to leave the former part of it undisturbed.
+
+The very next day, he found himself attacked by a low fever; but as
+he had hitherto paid for everything he had at the inn, they never
+thought of turning him out when his money was exhausted; and as he
+had already by his discreet behaviour, and the pleasure his bagpipes
+afforded, made himself not a few friends amongst the simple hearted
+people of the Seaton, some of the benevolent inhabitants of the
+upper town, Miss Horn in particular, were soon interested in his
+favour, who supplied him with everything he required until his
+recovery. As to the baby, he was gloriously provided for; he had
+at least a dozen foster mothers at once--no woman in the Seaton
+who could enter a claim founded on the possession of the special
+faculty required, failing to enter that claim--with the result
+of an amount of jealousy almost incredible.
+
+Meantime the town drummer fell sick and died, and Miss Horn made
+a party in favour of Duncan. But for the baby, I doubt if he would
+have had a chance, for he was a stranger and interloper; the women,
+however, with the baby in their forefront, carried the day. Then
+his opponents retreated behind the instrument, and strove hard to
+get the drum recognised as an essential of the office. When Duncan
+recoiled from the drum with indignation, but without losing the
+support of his party, the opposition had the effrontery to propose
+a bell: that he rejected with a vehemence of scorn that had nearly
+ruined his cause; and, assuming straightway the position of chief
+party in the proposed contract, declared that no noise of his making
+should be other than the noise of bagpipes; that he would rather
+starve than beat drum or ring bell; if he served in the case, it must
+be after his own fashion--and so on. Hence it was no wonder, some
+of the bailies being not only small men and therefore conceited, but
+powerful whigs, who despised everything highland, and the bagpipes
+especially, if the affair did for awhile seem hopeless. But the
+more noble minded of the authorities approved of the piper none the
+less for his independence, a generosity partly rooted, it must be
+confessed, in the amusement which the annoyance of their weaker
+brethren afforded them--whom at last they were happily successful
+in outvoting, so that the bagpipes superseded the drum for a season.
+
+It may be asked whence it arose that Duncan should now be willing
+to quit his claim to any paternal property in Malcolm, confessing
+that he was none of his blood.
+
+One source of the change was doubtless the desire of confidences
+between himself and Lady Florimel, another, the growing conviction,
+generated it may be by the admiration which is born of love, that
+the youth had gentle blood in his veins; and a third, that Duncan
+had now so thoroughly proved the heart of Malcolm as to have no
+fear of any change of fortune ever alienating his affections, or
+causing him to behave otherwise than as his dutiful grandson.
+
+It is not surprising that such a tale should have a considerable
+influence on Lady Florimel's imagination: out of the scanty facts
+which formed but a second volume, she began at once to construct
+both a first and a third. She dreamed of the young fisherman
+that night, and reflecting in the morning on her intercourse with
+him, recalled sufficient indications in him of superiority to
+his circumstances, noted by her now, however, for the first time,
+to justify her dream: he might indeed well be the last scion of a
+noble family.
+
+I do not intend the least hint that she began to fall in love with
+him. To balance his good looks, and the nobility, to keener eyes
+yet more evident than to hers, in both his moral and physical
+carriage, the equally undeniable clownishness of his dialect and
+tone had huge weight, while the peculiar straightforwardness of
+his behaviour and address not unfrequently savoured in her eyes
+of rudeness; besides which objectionable things, there was the
+persistent odour of fish about his garments--in itself sufficient
+to prevent such a catastrophe. The sole result of her meditations
+was the resolve to get some amusement out of him by means of
+a knowledge of his history superior to his own.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX: THE REVIVAL
+
+
+Before the close of the herring fishing, one of those movements of
+the spiritual waters, which in different forms, and under different
+names, manifest themselves at various intervals of space and of
+time, was in full vortex. It was supposed by the folk of Portlossie
+to have begun in the village of Scaurnose, but by the time it was
+recognized as existent, no one could tell whence it had come, any
+more than he could predict whither it was going. Of its spiritual
+origin it may be also predicated with confidence that its roots lay
+deeper than human insight could reach, and were far more interwoven
+than human analysis could disentangle.
+
+One notable fact bearing on its nature was, that it arose amongst
+the people themselves, without the intervention or immediate
+operation of the clergy, who indeed to a man were set against it.
+Hence the flood was at first free from the results of one influence
+most prolific of the pseudo spiritual, namely, the convulsive efforts
+of men with faith in a certain evil system of theology, to rouse a
+galvanic life by working on the higher feelings through the electric
+sympathies of large assemblages, and the excitement of late hours,
+prolonged prayers and exhortations, and sometimes even direct
+appeal to individuals in public presence. The end of these things
+is death, for the reaction is towards spiritual hardness and a
+more confirmed unbelief: when the excitement has died away, those
+at least in whom the spiritual faculty is for the time exhausted,
+presume that they have tasted and seen, and found that nothing is
+there. The whole thing is closely allied to the absurdity of those
+who would throw down or who would accept the challenge to test the
+reality of answer to prayer by applying the force of a multitudinous
+petition to the will of the supposed divinity--I say supposed
+divinity, because a being whose will could be thus moved like a
+water wheel could not be in any sense divine. If there might be a
+religious person so foolish and irreverent as to agree to such a
+test--crucial indeed, but in a far other sense than that imagined
+--I would put it to him whether the very sense of experiment would
+not destroy in his mind all faculty of prayer, placing him in the
+position, no more of a son of God, but of one who, tempting the
+Lord his God, may read his rebuke where it stands recorded for the
+ages.
+
+But where such a movement has originated amongst the people, the
+very facts adduced to argue its falsehood from its vulgarity, are to
+me so many indications on the other side; for I could ill believe
+in a divine influence which did not take the person such as he
+was; did not, while giving him power from beyond him, leave his
+individuality uninjured, yea intensify it, subjecting the very
+means of its purification, the spread of the new leaven, to the
+laws of time and growth. To look at the thing from the other side,
+the genuineness of the man's reception of it will be manifest in
+the meeting of his present conditions with the new thing--in the
+show of results natural to one of his degree of development. To
+hear a rude man utter his experience in the forms of cultivation,
+would be at once to suspect the mere glitter of a reflex, and to
+doubt an illumination from within. I repeat, the genuine influence
+shows itself such in showing that it has laid hold of the very man,
+at the very stage of growth he had reached. The dancing of David
+before the ark, the glow of St. Stephen's face, and the wild gestures
+and rude songs of miners and fishers and negroes, may all be signs
+of the presence of the same spirit in temples various. Children
+will rush and shout and hollo for the same joy which sends others
+of the family to weep apart.
+
+Of course the one infallible test as to whether any such movement
+is of man without God, or of God within the man, is the following
+life; only a large space for fluctuation must be allowed where a
+whole world of passions and habits has to be subjected to the will
+of God through the vice regency of a human will hardly or only just
+awakened, and as yet unconscious of itself.
+
+The nearest Joseph Mair could come to the origin of the present
+movement was the influence of a certain Stornoway fisherman, whom
+they had brought back with them on their return from the coasts
+of Lewis--a man of Celtic fervour and faith, who had agreed to
+accompany them probably in the hope of serving a set of the bravest
+and hardest working men in the world, who yet spent a large part
+of their ease in drinking up the earnings of fierce and perilous
+labour. There were a few amongst them, he found, already prepared
+to receive the word, and to each of these he spoke in private. They
+spoke to one another, then each to his friend outside the little
+circle. Next a few met to pray. These drew others in, and at length
+it was delivered from mouth to mouth that on the following Sunday,
+at a certain early hour in the morning, a meeting would be held
+in the Bailie's Barn, a cave large enough to receive all the grown
+population of Scaurnose.
+
+The news of this gathering of course reached the Seaton, where some
+were inclined to go and see, others to go and hear; most of even
+the latter class, however, being at the same time more than inclined
+to mock at the idea of a popular religious assembly.
+
+Not so Duncan MacPhail, who, notwithstanding the more than half
+Pagan character of his ideas, had too much reverence to mock at
+anything in the form of religion, to all the claims of which he
+was even eager to assent: when the duty of forgiveness was pressed
+upon him too hard, he would take his last refuge in excepting to
+the authority of the messenger. He regarded the announcement of
+the meeting with the greater respect that the man from Stornoway
+was a MacLeod, and so of his mother's clan.
+
+It was now the end of August, when the sky is of a paler blue in
+the day time, and greener about the sunset. The air had in it a
+touch of cold, which, like as a faint acid affects a sweet drink,
+only rendered the warmth more pleasant. On the appointed morning,
+the tide was low, and the waves died gently upon the sand, seeming
+to have crept away from the shore to get nearer to the sunrise.
+Duncan was walking along the hard wet sand towards the promontory,
+with Mr Graham on one side of him and Malcolm on the other. There
+was no gun to fire this morning; it was Sunday, and all might
+repose undisturbed: the longer sleep in bed, possibly the shorter
+in church.
+
+"I wish you had your sight but for a moment, Mr MacPhail," said
+the schoolmaster. "How this sunrise would make you leap for joy."
+
+"Ay!" said Malcolm, "it wad gar daddy grip till 's pipes in twa
+hurries."
+
+"And what should she'll pe wanting her pipes for?" asked Duncan.
+
+"To praise God wi'," answered Malcolm.
+
+"Ay; ay;" murmured Duncan thoughtfully. "Tey are tat."
+
+"What are they?" asked Mr Graham gently.
+
+"For to praise Cod," answered Duncan solemnly.
+
+"I almost envy you," returned Mr Graham, "when I think how you will
+praise God one day. What a glorious waking you will have!"
+
+"Ten it 'll pe your opinion, Mr Craham, tat she'll pe sleeping her
+sound sleep, and not pe lying wite awake in her coffin all ta time?"
+
+"A good deal better than that, Mr MacPhail!" returned the schoolmaster
+cheerily. "It's my opinion that you are, as it were, asleep now,
+and that the moment you die, you will feel as if you had just woke
+up, and for the first time in your life. For one thing, you will
+see far better then than any of us do now."
+
+But poor Duncan could not catch the idea; his mind was filled with
+a preventing fancy.
+
+"Yes; I know; at ta tay of chutchment," he said. "Put what 'll pe
+ta use of ketting her eyes open pefore she'll pe up? How should
+she pe seeing with all ta earth apove her--and ta cravestone
+too tat I know my poy Malcolm will pe laying on ta top of his old
+cranfather to keep him waarm, and let peoples pe know tat ta plind
+piper will be lying town pelow wite awake and fery uncomfortable?"
+
+"Excuse me, Mr MacPhail, but that's all a mistake," said Mr Graham
+positively. "The body is but a sort of shell that we cast off when
+we die, as the corn casts off its husk when it begins to grow. The
+life of the seed comes up out of the earth in a new body, as St
+Paul says,"
+
+"Ten," interrupted .Duncan, "she'll pe crowing up out of her crave
+like a seed crowing up to pe a corn or a parley?"
+
+The schoolmaster began to despair of ever conveying to the piper
+the idea that the living man is the seed sown, and that when the
+body of this seed dies, then the new body, with the man in it,
+springs alive out of the old one--that the death of the one is
+the birth of the other. Far more enlightened people than Duncan
+never imagine, and would find it hard to believe, that the sowing
+of the seed spoken of might mean something else than the burying
+of the body; not perceiving what yet surely is plain enough, that
+that would be the sowing of a seed already dead, and incapable of
+giving birth to anything whatever.
+
+"No, no," he said, almost impatiently, "you will never be in the
+grave: it is only your body that will go there, with nothing like
+life about it except the smile the glad soul has left on it. The
+poor body when thus forsaken is so dead that it can't even stop
+smiling. Get Malcolm to read to you out of the book of the Revelation
+how there were multitudes even then standing before the throne.
+They had died in this world, yet there they were, well and happy."
+
+"Oh, yes!" said Duncan, with no small touch of spitefulness in his
+tone, "--twang twanging at teir fine colden herps! She'll not be
+thinking much of ta herp for a music maker! And peoples tells her
+she'll not pe hafing her pipes tere! Och hone! Och hone!--She'll
+chust pe lying still and not pe ketting up, and when ta work is ofer,
+and eferypody cone away, she'll chust pe ketting up, and taking a
+look apout her, to see if she'll pe finding a stand o' pipes that
+some coot highlandman has peen left pehint him when he tied lately."
+
+"You'll find it rather lonely--won't you?"
+
+"Yes; no toubt, for they'll aal be cone up. Well, she'll haf her
+pipes; and she could not co where ta pipes was looked town upon by
+all ta creat people--and all ta smaal ones too."
+
+They had now reached the foot of the promontory, and turned
+northwards, each of his companions taking an arm of the piper to
+help him over the rocks that lay between them and the mouth of the
+cave, which soon yawned before them like a section of the mouth of
+a great fish. Its floor of smooth rock had been swept out clean,
+and sprinkled with dry sea sand. There were many hollows and
+projections along its sides rudely fit for serving as seats, to
+which had been added a number of forms extemporized of planks and
+thwarts. No one had yet arrived when they entered, and they went at
+once to the further end of the cave, that Duncan, who was a little
+hard of hearing, might be close to the speakers. There his companions
+turned and looked behind them: an exclamation, followed by a full
+glance at each other, broke from each.
+
+The sun, just clearing the end of the opposite promontory, shone
+right into the mouth of the cave, from the midst of a tumult of gold,
+in which all the other colours of his approach had been swallowed
+up. The triumph strode splendent over sea and shore, subduing waves
+and rocks to a path for its mighty entrance into that dark cave
+on the human coast. With his back to the light stood Duncan in the
+bottom of the cave, his white hair gleaming argentine, as if his
+poor blind head were the very goal of the heavenly progress. He
+turned round.
+
+"Will it pe a fire? She feels something warm on her head," he
+said, rolling his sightless orbs, upon which the splendour broke
+waveless, casting a grim shadow of him on the jagged rock behind.
+
+"No," answered Mr Graham; "it is the sun you feel. He's just out
+of his grave."
+
+The old man gave a grunt.
+
+"I often think," said the schoolmaster to Malcolm, "that possibly
+the reason why we are told so little about the world we are going
+to, is, that no description of it would enter our minds any more
+than a description of that sunrise would carry a notion of its
+reality into the mind of your grandfather."
+
+"She's obleeched to you, Mr Craham!" said the piper with offence.
+"You take her fery stupid. You're so proud of your eyes, you think
+a plind man cannot see at aall! Chm!"
+
+But the folk began to assemble. By twos and threes, now from the
+one side, now from the other, they came dropping in as if out of the
+rush of the blinding sunshine, till the seats were nearly filled,
+while a goodly company gathered about the mouth of the cave, there
+to await the arrival of those who had called the meeting. Presently
+MacLeod, a small thin man, with iron gray hair, keen, shrewd
+features, large head, and brown complexion, appeared, and made his
+way to the further end of the cave, followed by three or four of
+the men of Scaurnose, amongst whom walked a pale faced, consumptive
+lad, with bowed shoulders and eyes on the ground: he it was who,
+feebly clambering on a ledge of rock, proceeded to conduct the worship
+of the assembly. His parents were fisher people of Scaurnose, who
+to make a minister of him had been half starving the rest of their
+family; but he had broken down at length under the hardships of
+endless work and wretched food. From the close of the session in
+March, he had been teaching in Aberdeen until a few days before,
+when he came home, aware that he was dying, and full of a fervour
+betraying anxiety concerning himself rather than indicating the
+possession of good news for others. The sun had now so far changed
+his position, that, although he still shone into the cave, the preacher
+stood in the shadow, out of which gleamed his wasted countenance,
+pallid and sombre and solemn, as first he poured forth an abject
+prayer for mercy, conceived in the spirit of a slave supplicating
+the indulgence of a hard master, and couched in words and tones that
+bore not a trace of the filial; then read the chapter containing
+the curses of Mount Ebal, and gave the congregation one of Duncan's
+favourite psalms to sing; and at length began a sermon on what he
+called the divine justice. Not one word was there in it, however,
+concerning God's love of fair dealing, either as betwixt himself
+and man, or as betwixt man and his fellow; the preacher's whole
+notion of justice was the punishment of sin; and that punishment
+was hell, and hell only; so that the whole sermon was about hell
+from beginning to end--hell appalling, lurid, hopeless. And the
+eyes of all were fixed upon him with that glow from within which
+manifests the listening spirit. Some of the women were as pale as
+himself from sympathetic horror, doubtless also from a vague stirring
+of the conscience, which, without accusing them of crime, yet told
+them that all was not right between them and their God; while the
+working of the faces of some of the men betrayed a mind not at all
+at ease concerning their prospects. It was an eloquent and powerful
+utterance, and might doubtless claim its place in the economy of
+human education; but it was at best a pagan embodiment of truths
+such as a righteous pagan might have discovered, and breathed
+nothing of the spirit of Christianity, being as unjust towards God
+as it represented him to be towards men: the God of the preacher
+was utterly unlike the father of Jesus. Urging his hearers to flee
+from the wrath to come, he drew such a picture of an angry Deity
+as in nothing resembled the revelation in the Son.
+
+"Fellow sinners," he said in conclusion, "haste ye and flee from
+the wrath to come. Now is God waiting to be gracious--but only
+so long as his Son holds back the indignation ready to burst forth
+and devour you. He sprinkles its flames with the scarlet wool and
+the hyssop of atonement; he stands between you and justice, and
+pleads with his incensed Father for his rebellious creatures. Well
+for you that he so stands and so pleads! Yet even he could not
+prevail for ever against such righteous anger; and it is but for a
+season he will thus entreat; the day will come when he will stand
+aside and let the fiery furnace break forth and slay you. Then,
+with howling and anguish, with weeping and wailing and gnashing of
+teeth, ye shall know that God is a God of justice, that his wrath
+is one with his omnipotence, and his hate everlasting as the fires
+of hell. But do as ye will, ye cannot thwart his decrees, for to
+whom he will he showeth mercy, and whom he will he hardeneth."
+
+Scarcely had he ceased, when a loud cry, clear and keen, rang through
+every corner of the cave. Well might the preacher start and gaze
+around him! for the cry was articulate, sharply modelled into the
+three words--"Father o' lichts!" Some of the men gave a scared
+groan, and some of the women shrieked. None could tell whence the
+cry had come, and Malcolm alone could guess who must have uttered
+it.
+
+"Yes," said the preacher, recovering himself, and replying to the
+voice, "he is the Father of lights, but only to them that are in
+Christ Jesus;--he is no father, but an avenging deity, to them
+over whom the robe of his imputed righteousness is not cast. Jesus
+Christ himself will not be gracious for ever. Kiss ye the Son,
+lest even he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when his wrath
+is kindled but a little."
+
+"Father o' lichts!" rang the cry again, and louder than before.
+
+To Malcolm it seemed close behind him, but he had the self possession
+not to turn his head. The preacher took no farther notice. MacLeod
+stood up, and having, in a few simple remarks, attempted to smooth
+some of the asperities of the youth's address, announced another
+meeting in the evening, and dismissed the assembly with a prayer.
+
+Malcolm went home with his grandfather. He was certain it was the
+laird's voice he had heard, but he would attempt no search after his
+refuge that day, for dread of leading to its discovery by others.
+
+That evening most of the boats of the Seaton set out for the fishing
+ground as usual, but not many went from Scaurnose. Blue Peter would
+go no more of a Sunday, hence Malcolm was free for the night, and
+again with his grandfather walked along the sands in the evening
+towards the cave.
+
+The sun was going down on the other side of the promontory before
+them, and the sky was gorgeous in rose and blue, in peach and
+violet, in purple and green, barred and fretted, heaped and broken,
+scattered and massed--every colour edged and tinged and harmonized
+with a glory as of gold, molten with heat, and glowing with fire.
+The thought that his grandfather could not see, and had never
+seen such splendour, made Malcolm sad, and very little was spoken
+between them as they went.
+
+When they arrived, the service had already commenced, but room was
+made for them to pass, and a seat was found for Duncan where he
+could hear. Just as they entered, Malcolm spied, amongst those who
+preferred the open air at the mouth of the cavern, a face which he
+was all but certain was that of one of the three men from whom he
+had rescued the laird.
+
+MacLeod was to address them. He took for his text the words of the
+Saviour, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and
+I will give you rest," and founded upon them a simple, gracious,
+and all but eloquent discourse, very different in tone and influence
+from that of the young student. It must be confessed that the
+Christ he presented was very far off, and wrapped in a hazy nimbus
+of abstraction; that the toil of his revelation was forgotten, the
+life he lived being only alluded to, and that not for the sake of
+showing what he was, and hence what God is, but to illustrate the
+conclusions of men concerning him; and yet there was that heart of
+reality in the whole thing which no moral vulgarity of theory, no
+injustice towards God, no tyranny of stupid logic over childlike
+intuitions, could so obscure as to render it inoperative. From the
+form of the Son of Man, thus beheld from afar, came a warmth like
+the warmth from the first approach of the far off sun in spring,
+sufficing to rouse the earth from the sleep of winter--in which
+all the time the same sun has been its warmth and has kept it from
+sleeping unto death.
+
+MacLeod was a thinker--aware of the movements of his own heart,
+and able to reflect on others the movements of their hearts; hence,
+although in the main he treated the weariness and oppression from
+which Jesus offered to set them free, as arising from a sense of
+guilt and the fear of coming misery, he could not help alluding to
+more ordinary troubles, and depicting other phases of the heart's
+restlessness with such truth and sympathy that many listened with
+a vague feeling of exposure to a supernatural insight. The sermon
+soon began to show its influence; for a sense of the need of help
+is so present to every simple mind, that, of all messages, the offer
+of help is of easiest reception; some of the women were sobbing,
+and the silent tears were flowing down the faces of others; while
+of the men many were looking grave and thoughtful, and kept their
+eyes fixed on the speaker. At length, towards the close, MacLeod
+judged it needful to give a word of warning.
+
+"But, my friends," he said, and his voice grew low and solemn, "I
+dare not make an end without reminding you that, if you stop your
+ears against the gracious call, a day will come when not even the
+merits of the Son of God will avail you, but the wrath of the--"
+
+"Father o' Lichts!" once more burst ringing out, like the sudden
+cry of a trumpet in the night.
+
+MacLeod took no notice of it, but brought his sermon at once to a
+close, and specified the night of the following Saturday for next
+meeting. They sung a psalm, and after a slow, solemn, thoughtful
+prayer, the congregation dispersed.
+
+But Malcolm, who, anxious because of the face he had seen as he
+entered, had been laying his plans, after begging his grandfather
+in a whisper to go home without him for a reason he would afterwards
+explain, withdrew into a recess whence he could watch the cave,
+without being readily discovered.
+
+Scarcely had the last voices of the retreating congregation died
+away, when the same ill favoured face peeped round the corner of the
+entrance, gave a quick glance about, and the man came in. Like a
+snuffing terrier, he went peering in the dimness into every hollow,
+and behind every projection, until he suddenly caught sight of
+Malcolm, probably by a glimmering of his eyes.
+
+"Hillo, Humpy!" he cried in a tone of exultation, and sprang up
+the rough ascent of a step or two to where he sat.
+
+Malcolm half rose, and met him with a well delivered blow between
+the eyes. He fell, and lay for a moment stunned. Malcolm sat down
+again and watched him. When he came to himself, he crept out,
+muttering imprecations. He knew it was not Humpy who dealt that
+blow.
+
+As soon as he was gone, Malcolm in his turn began searching.
+He thought he knew every hole and corner of the cave, and there
+was but one where the laird, who, for as near him as he heard his
+voice the first time, certainly had not formed one of the visible
+congregation, might have concealed himself: if that was his covert,
+there he must be still, for he had assuredly not issued from it.
+
+Immediately behind where he had sat in the morning, was a projection
+of rock, with a narrow cleft between it and the wall of the cavern,
+visible only from the very back of the cave, where the roof came
+down low. But when he thought of it, he saw that even here he could
+not have been hidden in the full light of the morning from the eyes
+of some urchins who had seated themselves as far back as the roof
+would allow them, and they had never looked as if they saw anything
+more than other people. Still, if he was to search at all, here he
+must begin. The cleft had scarcely more width than sufficed to admit
+his body, and his hands told him at once that there was no laird
+there. Could there be any opening further? If there was, it could
+only be somewhere above. Was advance in that direction possible?
+
+He felt about, and finding two or three footholds, began to climb
+in the dark, and had reached the height of six feet or so, when he
+came to a horizontal projection, which, for a moment only, barred
+his further progress. Having literally surmounted this, that is,
+got on the top of it, he found there a narrow vertical opening:
+was it but a shallow recess, or did it lead into the heart of the
+rock?
+
+Carefully feeling his way both with hands and feet, he advanced a
+step or two, and came to a place where the passage widened a little,
+and then took a sharp turn and became so narrow that it was with
+difficulty he forced himself through. It was, however, but one close
+pinch, and he found himself, as his feet told him, at the top of
+a steep descent. He stood for a moment hesitating, for prudence
+demanded a light. The sound of the sea was behind him, but all
+in front was still as the darkness of the grave. Suddenly up from
+unknown depths of gloom, came the tones of a sweet childish voice,
+singing The Lord's my Shepherd.
+
+Malcolm waited until the psalm was finished, and then called out:
+
+"Mr Stewart!  here--Malcolm MacPhail. I want to see ye. Tell
+him it 's me, Phemy."
+
+A brief pause followed; then Phemy's voice answered:
+
+"Come awa' doon. He says ye s' be welcome."
+
+"Canna ye shaw a licht than; for I dinna ken a fit o' the ro'd,"
+said Malcolm.
+
+The next moment a light appeared at some little distance below,
+and presently began to ascend, borne by Phemy, towards the place
+where he stood. She took him by the hand without a word, and led
+him down a slope, apparently formed of material fallen from the
+roof, to the cave already described. The moment he entered it, he
+marked the water in its side, the smooth floor, the walls hollowed
+into a thousand fantastic cavities, and knew he had come upon the
+cave in which his great grandfather had found refuge so many years
+before. Changes in its mouth had rendered entrance difficult, and
+it had slipped by degrees from the knowledge of men.
+
+At the bottom of the slope, by the side of the well, sat the laird.
+Phemy set the little lantern she carried on its edge. The laird
+rose and shook hands with Malcolm and asked him to be seated.
+
+" sorry to say they're efter ye again, laird," said Malcolm
+after a little ordinary chat.
+
+Mr Stewart was on his feet instantly.
+
+"I maun awa'. Tak care o' Phemy," he said hurriedly.
+
+"Na, na, sir," said Malcolm, laying his hand on his arm; "there's
+nae sic hurry. As lang's  here ye may sit still; an', as far's
+I ken, naebody's fun' the w'y in but mysel', an' that was yer am
+wyte (blame), laird. But ye hae garred mair fowk nor me luik, an'
+that's the pity o' 't."
+
+"I tauld ye, sir, ye sudna cry oot," said Phemy.
+
+"I couldna help it," said Stewart apologetically.
+
+"Weel, ye sudna ha' gane near them again," persisted the little
+woman.
+
+"Wha kent but they kent whaur I cam frae?" persisted the laird.
+
+"Sit ye doon, sir, an' lat's hae a word aboot it," said Malcolm
+cheerily.
+
+The laird cast a doubting look at Phemy.
+
+"Ay, sit doon," said Phemy.
+
+Mr Stewart yielded, but nervous starts and sudden twitches of the
+muscles betrayed his uneasiness: it looked as if his body would
+jump up and run without his mind's consent.
+
+"Hae ye ony w'y o' winnin' oot o' this, forbye (besides) the mou'
+o' the cave there?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"Nane 'at I ken o'," answered Phemy. "But there's heaps o' hidy
+holes i' the inside o' 't."
+
+"That's a' very weel; but gien they keppit the mou' an' took their
+time till 't, they bude to grip ye."
+
+"There may be, though," resumed Phemy. "It gangs back a lang road.
+I hae never been in sicht o' the cud o' 't. It comes doon verra
+laich in some places, and gangs up heich again in ithers, but nae
+sign o' an en' till 't."
+
+"Is there ony soon' o' watter intill 't?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"Na, nane at ever I hard. But I'll tell ye what I hae hard: I hae
+hard the flails gaein' thud, thud, abune my heid."
+
+"Hoot toot, Phemy!" said Malcolm; "we're a guid mile an' a half frae
+the nearest ferm toon, an' that I reckon, 'll be the Hoose ferm."
+
+"I canna help that," persisted Phemy. "Gien 't wasna the flails,
+whiles ane, an' whiles twa, I dinna ken what it cud hae been. Hoo
+far it was I canna say, for it 's ill measurin' i' the dark, or wi'
+naething but a bowat (lantern) i' yer han'; but gien ye ca'd it
+mair, I wadna won'er."
+
+"It's a michty howkin!" said Malcolm; "but for a' that it wadna
+haud ye frae the grip o' thae scoonrels: wharever ye ran they cud
+rin efter ye."
+
+"I think we cud sort them," said Phemy. "There's ae place, a guid
+bit farrer in, whaur the rufe comes doon to the flure, leavin' jist
+ae sma' hole to creep throu': it wad be fine to hae a gey muckle
+stane handy, jist to row (roll) athort it, an' gar't luik as gien
+'t was the en' o' a'thing. But the hole's sae sma' at the laird
+has ill gettin' his puir hack throu' 't."
+
+"I couldna help won'erin' hoo he wan throu' at the tap there," said
+Malcolm.
+
+At this the laird laughed almost merrily, and rising, took Malcolm
+by the hand and led him to the spot, where he made him feel a rough
+groove in the wall of the rocky strait: into this hollow he laid
+his hump, and so slid sideways through.
+
+Malcolm squeezed himself through after him, saying,--
+
+"Noo ye're oot, laird, hadna ye better come wi' me hame to Miss
+Horn's, whaur ye wad be as safe's gien ye war in h'aven itsel'?"
+
+"Na, I canna gang to Miss Horn's," he replied.
+
+"What for no, laird?"
+
+Pulling Malcolm down towards him, the laird whispered in his ear,
+
+"'Cause she's fleyt at my back."
+
+A moment or two passed ere Malcolm could think of a reply both true
+and fitting. When at length he spoke again there was no answer,
+and he knew that he was alone.
+
+He left the cave and set out for the Seaton; but, unable to feel
+at peace about his friends, resolved, on the way, to return after
+seeing his grandfather, and spend the night in the outer cave.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI: WANDERING STARS
+
+
+He had not been gone many minutes, when the laird passed once more
+through the strait, and stood a moment waiting for Phemy; she had
+persuaded him to go home to her father's for the night.
+
+But the next instant he darted back, with trembling hands, caught
+hold of Phemy, who was following him with the lantern, and stammered
+in her ear,--
+
+"There's somebody there! I dinna ken whaur they come frae."
+
+Phemy went to the front of the passage and listened, but could hear
+nothing, and returned.
+
+"Bide ye whaur ye are, laird," she said; "I'll gang doon, an' gien
+I hear or see naething, I'll come back for ye."
+
+With careful descent, placing her feet on the well known points
+unerringly, she reached the bottom, and peeped into the outer cave.
+The place was quite dark. Through its jaws the sea glimmered faint
+in the low light that skirted the northern horizon; and the slow
+pulse of the tide upon the rocks, was the sole sound to be heard.
+No: another in the cave close beside her!--one small solitary
+noise, as of shingle yielding under the pressure of a standing
+foot! She held her breath and listened, her heart beating so loud
+that she feared it would deafen her to what would come next. A good
+many minutes, half an hour it seemed to her, passed, during which
+she heard nothing more; but as she peeped out for the twentieth
+time, a figure glided into the field of vision bounded by the
+cave's mouth. It was that of a dumpy woman. She entered the cave,
+tumbled over one of the forms, and gave a cry coupled with an
+imprecation.
+
+"The deevil roast them 'at laid me sic a trap!" she said. "I hae
+broken the shins the auld markis laudit!"
+
+"Hold your wicked tongue!" hissed a voice in return, almost in
+Phemy's very ear.
+
+"Ow! ye're there, are ye, mem!" rejoined the other, in a voice that
+held internal communication with her wounded shins.
+
+"Coupit ye the crans like me?"
+
+The question, Englished, was, "Did you fall heels over head like
+me?" but was capable of a metaphorical interpretation as well.
+
+"Hold your tongue, I say, woman! Who knows but some of the saints
+may be at their prayers within hearing?"
+
+"Na, na, mem, there's nae risk o' that; this is no ane o' yer
+creepy caves whaur otters an wullcats hae their habitations; it 's
+a muckle open mou'd place, like them 'at prays intill 't--as toom
+an' clear sidit as a tongueless bell. But what for ye wad hae 's
+come here to oor cracks (conversation), I canna faddom. A body wad
+think ye had an ill thoucht i' yer heid--eh, mem?"
+
+The suggestion was followed by a low, almost sneering laugh. As she
+spoke, the sounds of her voice and step had been advancing, with
+cautious intermittent approach.
+
+"I hae ye noo," she said, as she seated herself at length beside
+the other. "The gowk, Geordie Bray!" she went on, "--to tak it
+intill's oogly heid 'at the cratur wad be hurklin' here! It's no the
+place for ane 'at has to hide 's heid for verra shame o' slippin'
+aff the likes o' himsel' upo' sic a braw mither! Could he get nae
+ither door to win in at, haith!"
+
+"Woman, you'll drive me mad!" said the other.
+
+"Weel, hinney," returned the former, suddenly changing her tone, "
+mair an' mair convenced 'at yon's the verra laad for yer purpose.
+For ae thing, ye see, naebody kens whaur he cam frae, as the
+laird, bonny laad, wad say, an' naebody can contradick a word--
+the auld man less than onybody, for I can tell him what he kens to
+be trowth. Only I winna muv till I ken whaur he comes frae."
+
+"Wouldn't you prefer not knowing for certain? You could swear with
+the better grace."
+
+"Deil a bit! It maitters na to me whilk side o' my teeth I chow wi'.
+But I winna sweir till I ken the trowth--'at I may haud off o'
+'t. He's the man, though, gien we can get a grip o' 'im! He luiks
+the richt thing, ye see, mem. He has a glisk (slight look) o' the
+markis tu--divna ye think, mem?"
+
+"Insolent wretch!"
+
+"Caw canny, mem--'thing maun be considered. It wad but gar the
+thing luik, the mair likly. Fowk gangs the len'th o' sayin' 'at
+Humpy himsel' 's no the sin (son) o' the auld laird, honest man.
+
+"It's a wicked lie," burst with indignation from the other.
+
+"There may be waur things nor a bit lee. Ony gait, ae thing's easy
+priven: ye lay verra dowie (poorly) for a month or sax ooks ance
+upon a time at Lossie Hoose, an' that was a feow years, we needna
+speir hoo mony, efter ye was lichtened o' the tither. Whan they
+hear that at that time ye gae birth till a lad bairn, the whilk was
+stown awa', an' never hard tell o' till noo--'It may weel be,'
+fowk'll say: 'them 'at has drunk wad drink again!' It wad affoord
+rizzons, ye see, an' guid anes, for the bairn bein' putten oot a'
+sicht, and wad mak the haul story mair nor likly i' the jeedgment
+o' a' 'at hard it."
+
+"You scandalous woman! That would be to confess to all the world
+that he was not the son of my late husband!"
+
+"They say that o' him 'at is, an' hoo muckle the waur are ye? Lat
+them say 'at they like, sae lang 's we can shaw 'at he cam o' your
+body, an' was born i' wedlock? Ye hae yer Ian's ance mair, for ye
+hae a sin 'at can guide them--and ye can guide him. He's a bonny
+lad--bonny eneuch to be yer leddyship's--and his lordship's:
+an' sae, as I was remarkin', i' the jeedgment a' ill thouchtit
+fowk, the mair likly to be heir to auld Stewart o' Kirkbyres!"
+
+She laughed huskily.
+
+"But I maun hae a scart a' yer pen, mem, afore I wag tongue aboot
+it," she went on. "I ken brawly hoo to set it gauin'! I sanna be the
+first to ring the bell. Na, na; I s' set Miss Horn's Jean jawin',
+an' it 'll be a' ower the toon in a jiffy--at first in a kin o'
+a sough 'at naebody 'ill unnerstan': but it 'll grow looder an'
+plainer. At the lang last it 'll come to yer leddyship's hearin:
+an' syne ye hae me taen up an' questoned afore a justice o' the
+peace, that there may be no luik o' ony compack atween the twa o'
+'s. But, as I said afore, I'll no muv till I ken a' aboot the lad
+first, an' syne get a scart o' yer pen, mem."
+
+"You must be the devil himself!" said the other, in a tone that
+was not of displeasure.
+
+"I hae been tellt that afore, an' wi' less rizzon," was the reply
+--given also in a tone that was not of displeasure.
+
+"But what if we should be found out?"
+
+"Ye can lay 't a' upo' me."
+
+"And what will you do with it?"
+
+"Tak it wi' me," was the answer, accompanied by another husky laugh.
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"Speir nae questons, an' ye'll be tellt nae lees. Ony gait, I
+s' lea' nae track ahin' me. An' for that same sake, I maun hae my
+pairt i' my han' the meenute the thing's been sworn till. Gien ye
+fail me, ye'll sune see me get mair licht upo' the subjec', an'
+confess till a great mistak. By the Michty, but I'll sweir the verra
+contrar the neist time  hed up! Ay, an' ilka body 'ill believe
+me. An' whaur'll ye be than, my leddy? For though I micht mistak,
+ye cudna! Faith! they'll hae ye ta'en up for perjury."
+
+"You're a dangerous accomplice," said the lady.
+
+" a tule ye maun tak by the han'le, or ye'll rue the edge,"
+returned the other quietly.
+
+"As soon then as I get a hold of that misbegotten elf--"
+
+"Mean ye the yoong laird, or the yoong markis, mem?"
+
+"You forget, Mrs Catanach, that you are speaking to a lady!"
+
+"Ye maun hae been unco like ane ae nicht, ony gait, mem. But
+dune wi' my jokin'."
+
+"As soon, I say, as I get my poor boy into proper hands, I shall
+be ready to take the next step."
+
+"What for sod ye pit it aff till than? He canna du muckle ae w'y
+or ither."
+
+"I will tell you. His uncle, Sir Joseph, prides himself on being
+an honest man, and if some busybody were to tell him that poor
+Stephen, as I am told people are saying, was no worse than harsh
+treatment had made him--for you know his father could not bear
+the sight of him till the day of his death--he would be the more
+determined to assert his guardianship, and keep things out of my
+hands. But if I once had the poor fellow in an asylum, or in my
+own keeping--you see--"
+
+"Weel, mem, gien I be potty, ye're panny!" exclaimed the midwife with
+her gelatinous laugh. "Losh, mem!" she burst out after a moment's
+pause, "sen you an' me was to fa' oot, there wad be a stramash!
+He! he! he!"
+
+They rose and left the cave together, talking as they went; and
+Phemy, trembling all over, rejoined the laird.
+
+She could understand little of what she had heard, and yet, enabled
+by her affection, retained in her mind a good deal of it. After
+events brought more of it to her recollection, and what I have
+here given is an attempted restoration of the broken mosaic. She
+rightly judged it better to repeat nothing of what she had overheard
+to the laird, to whom it would only redouble terror; and when
+he questioned her in his own way concerning it, she had little
+difficulty, so entirely did he trust her, in satisfying him with a
+very small amount of information. When they reached her home, she
+told all she could to her father; whose opinion it was, that the
+best, indeed the only-thing they could do, was to keep, if possible,
+a yet more vigilant guard over the laird and his liberty.
+
+Soon after they were gone, Malcolm returned, and little thinking
+that there was no one left to guard, chose a sheltered spot in the
+cave, carried thither a quantity of dry sand, and lay down to sleep,
+covered with his tarpaulin coat. He found it something chilly,
+however, and did not rest so well but that he woke with the first
+break of day.
+
+The morning, as it drew slowly on, was a strange contrast, in its
+gray and saffron, to the gorgeous sunset of the night before.
+
+The sea crept up on the land as if it were weary, and did not care
+much to flow any more. Not a breath of wind was in motion, and yet
+the air even on the shore seemed full of the presence of decaying
+leaves and damp earth. He sat down in the mouth of the cave, and
+looked out on the still, half waking world of ocean and sky before
+him--a leaden ocean, and a dull misty sky; and as he gazed, a
+sadness came stealing over him, and a sense of the endlessness of
+labour--labour ever returning on itself and making no progress.
+The mad laird was always lamenting his ignorance of his origin:
+Malcolm thought he knew whence he came--and yet what was the
+much good of life? Where was the end to it all? People so seldom
+got what they desired! To be sure his life was a happy one, or had
+been--but there was the poor laird! Why should he be happier than
+the laird? Why should the laird have a hump and he have none? If
+all the world were happy but one man, that one's misery would be
+as a cairn on which the countless multitudes of the blessed must
+heap the stones of endless questions and enduring perplexities.
+
+It is one thing to know from whom we come, and another to know from
+Whom we come.
+
+Then his thoughts turned to Lady Florimel. All the splendours of
+existence radiated from her, but to the glory he could never draw
+nearer; the celestial fires of the rainbow fountain of her life
+could never warm him; she cared about nothing he cared about; if
+they had a common humanity they could not share it; to her he was
+hardly human. If he were to unfold before her the deepest layers of
+his thought, she would look at them curiously, as she might watch
+the doings of an ant or a spider. Had he no right to look for more?
+He did not know, and sat brooding with bowed head.
+
+Unseen from where he sat, the sun drew nearer the horizon, the
+light grew; the tide began to ripple up more diligently; a glimmer
+of dawn touched even the brown rock in the farthest end of the
+cave.
+
+Where there was light there was work, and where there was work for
+any one, there was at least justification of his existence. That
+work must be done, if it should return and return in a never broken
+circle. Its theory could wait. For indeed the only hope of finding
+the theory of all theories, the divine idea, lay in the going on
+of things.
+
+In the meantime, while God took care of the sparrows by himself, he
+allowed Malcolm a share in the protection of a human heart capable
+of the keenest suffering--that of the mad laird.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII: THE SKIPPER'S CHAMBER
+
+
+One day towards the close of the fishing season, the marquis called
+upon Duncan; and was received with a cordial unembarrassed welcome.
+
+"I want you, Mr MacPhail," said his lordship, "to come and live
+in that little cottage, on the banks of the burn, which one of the
+under gamekeepers, they tell me, used to occupy.. I 'll have it
+put in order for you, and you shall live rent free as my piper."
+
+"I thank your lortship's crace," said Duncan, "and she would pe
+proud of ta honour, put it 'll pe too far away from ta shore for
+her poy's fishing."
+
+"I have a design upon him too," returned the marquis. "they're
+building a little yacht for me--a pleasure boat, you understand
+--at Aberdeen, and I want Malcolm to be skipper. But he is such a
+useful fellow, and so thoroughly to be depended upon, that I should
+prefer his having a room in the house. I should like to know he
+was within call any moment I might want him."
+
+Duncan did not clutch at the proposal. He was silent so long that
+the marquis spoke again.
+
+"You do not quite seem to like the plan, Mr MacPhail," he said.
+
+"If aal wass here as it used to wass in ta Highlants, my lort,"
+said Duncan, "when every clansman wass son or prother or father to
+his chief tat would pe tifferent; put my poy must not co and eat
+with serfants who haf nothing put teir waches to make tem love
+and opey your lortship. If her poy serfs another man, it must pe
+pecause he loves him, and looks upon him as his chief, who will
+shake haands with him and take ta father's care of him; and her
+poy must tie for him when ta time comes."
+
+Even a feudal lord cannot be expected to have sympathized with
+such grand patriarchal ideas; they were much too like those of the
+kingdom of heaven; and feudalism itself had by this time crumbled
+away--not indeed into monthly, but into half yearly wages. The
+marquis, notwithstanding, was touched by the old man's words, matter
+of fact as his reply must sound after them.
+
+"I would make any arrangements you or he might wish," he said.
+"He should take his meals with Mrs Courthope, have a bedroom to
+himself and be required only to look after the yacht, and now and
+then do some bit of business I couldn't trust any one else with."
+
+The highlander's pride was nearly satisfied.
+
+"So," he said, "it 'll pe his own henchman my lort will pe making
+of her poy?"
+
+"Something like that. we'll see how it goes. If he does n't like
+it, he can drop it. It's more that I want to have him about me
+than anything else. I want to do something for him when I have a
+chance. I like him."
+
+"My lort will pe toing ta laad a creat honour," said Duncan. "Put,"
+he added, with a sigh, "she'll pe lonely, her nainsel!"
+
+"He can come and see you twenty times a day--and stop all night
+when you particularly want him. we'll see about some respectable
+woman to look after the house for you."
+
+"she'll haf no womans to look after her," said Duncan fiercely.
+
+"Oh, very well!--of course not, if you don't wish it," returned
+the marquis, laughing.
+
+But Duncan did not even smile in return. He sat thoughtful and
+silent for a moment, then said:
+
+"And what 'll pecome of her lamps and her shop?"
+
+"You shall have all the lamps and candlesticks in the house to
+attend to and take charge of," said the marquis, who had heard of
+the old man's whim from Lady Florimel; "and for the shop, you won't
+want that when you're piper to the Marquis of Lossie."
+
+He did not venture to allude to wages more definitely.
+
+"Well, she'll pe talking to her poy apout it," said Duncan, and
+the marquis saw that he had better press the matter no further for
+the time.
+
+To Malcolm the proposal was full of attraction. True, Lord Lossie
+had once and again spoken so as to offend him, but the confidence
+he had shown in him had gone far to atone for that. And to be near
+Lady Florimel!--to have to wait on her in the yacht and sometimes
+in the house!--to be allowed books from the library perhaps!--
+to have a nice room, and those lovely grounds all about him!--It
+was tempting!
+
+The old man also, the more he reflected, liked the idea the more.
+The only thing he murmured at was, being parted from his grandson
+at night. In vain Malcolm reminded him that during the fishing
+season he had to spend most nights alone; Duncan answered that
+he had but to go to the door, and look out to sea, and there was
+nothing between him and his boy; but now he could not tell how
+many stone walls might be standing up to divide them. He was quite
+willing to make the trial, however, and see if he could bear it.
+So Malcolm went to speak to the marquis.
+
+He did not altogether trust the marquis, but he had always taken
+a delight in doing anything for anybody--a delight rooted in a
+natural tendency to ministration, unusually strong, and specially
+developed by the instructions of Alexander Graham conjoined with the
+necessities of his blind grandfather; while there was an alluring
+something, it must be confessed, in the marquis's high position
+--which let no one set down to Malcolm's discredit: whether the
+subordination of class shall go to the development of reverence or
+of servility, depends mainly on the individual nature subordinated.
+Calvinism itself has produced as loving children as abject slaves,
+with a good many between partaking of the character of both kinds.
+Still, as he pondered over the matter on his way, he shrunk a
+good deal from placing himself at the beck and call of another; it
+threatened to interfere with that sense of personal freedom which
+is yet dearer perhaps to the poor than to the rich. But he argued
+with himself that he had found no infringement of it under Blue
+Peter; and that, if the marquis were really as friendly as he
+professed to be, it was not likely to turn out otherwise with him.
+
+Lady Florimel anticipated pleasure in Malcolm's probable consent
+to her father's plan; but certainly he would not have been greatly
+uplifted by a knowledge of the sort of pleasure she expected. For
+some time the girl had been suffering from too much liberty. Perhaps
+there is no life more filled with a sense of oppression and lack
+of freedom than that of those under no external control, in whom
+Duty has not yet gathered sufficient strength to assume the reins
+of government and subject them to the highest law. Their condition
+is like that of a creature under an exhausted receiver--oppressed
+from within outwards for want of the counteracting external weight.
+It was amusement she hoped for from Malcolm's becoming in a sense
+one of the family at the House--to which she believed her knowledge of
+the extremely bare outlines of his history would largely contribute.
+
+He was shown at once into the presence of his lordship, whom he
+found at breakfast with his daughter.
+
+"Well, MacPhail," said the marquis, "have you made up your mind to
+be my skipper?"
+
+"Willin'ly, my lord," answered Malcolm.
+
+"Do you know how to manage a sailboat?"
+
+"I wad need, my lord."
+
+"Shall you want any help?"
+
+"That depen's upo' saiveral things--her am size, the wull o' the
+win', an' whether or no yer lordship or my leddy can tak the tiller."
+
+"We can't settle about that then till she comes. I hear she'll soon
+be on her way now. But I cannot have you dressed like a farmer!"
+said his lordship, looking sharply at the Sunday clothes which
+Malcolm had donned for the visit.
+
+"What was I to du, my lord?" returned Malcolm apologetically. "The
+only ither claes I hae, are verra fishy, an' neither yersel' nor
+my leddy cud bide them i' the room aside ye."
+
+"Certainly not," responded the marquis, as in a leisurely manner
+he devoured his omelette: "I was thinking of your future position
+as skipper of my boat. What would you say to a kilt now?"
+
+"Na, na, my lord," rejoined Malcolm; "a kilt's no seafarin' claes.
+A kilt wadna du ava', my lord."
+
+"You cannot surely object to the dress of your own people," said
+the marquis.
+
+"The kilt 's weel eneuch upon a hillside," said Malcolm, "I dinna
+doobt; but faith! seafarin', my lord, ye wad want the trews as
+weel."
+
+"Well, go to the best tailor in the town, and order a naval suit
+--white ducks and a blue jacket--two suits you'll want."
+
+"We s' gar ae shuit sair s' (satisfy us) to begin wi', my lord.
+I 'll jist gang to Jamie Sangster, wha maks a' my claes--no 'at
+their mony!--an' get him to mizzur me. He'll mak them weel eneuch
+for me. You 're aye sure o' the worth o' yer siller frae him."
+
+"I tell you to go to the best tailor in the town, and order two
+suits."
+
+"Na, na, my lord; there's nae need. I canna affoord it forbye. We
+'re no a' made o' siller like yer lordship."
+
+"You booby! do you suppose I would tell you to order clothes I did
+not mean to pay for?"
+
+Lady Florimel found her expectation of amusement not likely to be
+disappointed.
+
+"Hoots, my lord!" returned Malcolm, "that wad never du. I maun pey
+for my ain claes. I wad be in a constant terror o blaudin' (spoiling)
+o' them gien I didna, an' that wad be eneuch to mak a body meeserable.
+It wad be a' the same, forbye, not an' oot, as weirin' a leevry!"
+
+"Well, well! please your pride, and be damned to you!" said the
+marquis.
+
+"Yes, let him please his pride, and be damned to him!" assented
+Lady Florimel with perfect gravity.
+
+Malcolm started and stared. Lady Florimel kept an absolute composure.
+The marquis burst into a loud laugh. Malcolm stood bewildered for
+a moment.
+
+" thinkin'  gaein' daft (delirious)!" he said at length,
+putting his hand to his head. "It's time I gaed. Guid mornin', my
+lord."
+
+He turned and left the room, followed by a fresh peal from his
+lordship, mingling with which his ear plainly detected the silvery
+veins of Lady Florimel's equally merry laughter.
+
+When he came to himself and was able to reflect, he saw there must
+have been some joke involved: the behaviour of both indicated as
+much; and with this conclusion he heartened his dismay.
+
+The next morning Duncan called on Mrs Partan, and begged her
+acceptance of his stock in trade, as, having been his lordship's
+piper for some time, he was now at length about to occupy his proper
+quarters within the policies. Mrs Findlay acquiesced, with an air
+better suited to the granting of slow leave to laboursome petition,
+than the accepting of such a generous gift; but she made some amends
+by graciously expressing a hope that Duncan would not forget his
+old friends now that he was going amongst lords and ladies, to which
+Duncan returned as courteous answer as if he had been addressing
+Lady Florimel herself.
+
+Before the end of the week, his few household goods were borne in
+a cart through the sea gate dragonised by Bykes, to whom Malcolm
+dropped a humorous "Weel Johnny!" as he passed, receiving a
+nondescript kind of grin in return. The rest of the forenoon was
+spent in getting the place in order, and in the afternoon, arrayed
+in his new garments, Malcolm reported himself at the House. Admitted
+to his lordship's presence, he had a question to ask and a request
+to prefer.
+
+"Hae ye dune onything my lord," he said, "aboot Mistress Catanach?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Anent yon cat prowl aboot the hoose, my lord."
+
+"No. You have n't discovered anything more--have you?"
+
+"Na, my lord; I haena had a chance. But ye may be sure she had nae
+guid design in 't."
+
+"I don't suspect her of any."
+
+"Weel, my lord, hae ye ony objection to lat me sleep up yonner?"
+
+"None at all--only you'd better see what Mrs Courthope has to
+say to it. Perhaps you won't be so ready after you hear her story."
+
+"But I hae yer lordship's leave to tak ony room I like?"
+
+"Certainly. Go to Mrs Courthope, and tell her I wish you to choose
+your own quarters."
+
+Having straightway delivered his lordship's message, Mrs Courthope,
+wondering a little thereat, proceeded to show him those portions
+of the house set apart for the servants. He followed her from floor
+to floor--last to the upper regions, and through all the confused
+rambling roofs of the old pile, now descending a sudden steep
+yawning stair, now ascending another where none could have been
+supposed to exist--oppressed all the time with a sense of the
+multitudinous and intricate, such as he had never before experienced, and
+such as perhaps only the works of man can produce, the intricacy
+and variety of those of nature being ever veiled in the grand
+simplicity which springs from primal unity of purpose.
+
+I find no part of an ancient house so full of interest as the
+garret region. It has all the mystery of the dungeon cellars with
+a far more striking variety of form, and a bewildering curiosity
+of adaptation, the peculiarities of roof shapes and the consequent
+complexities of their relations and junctures being so much greater
+than those of foundation plans. Then the sense of lofty loneliness
+in the deeps of air, and at the same time of proximity to things
+aerial--doves and martins, vanes and gilded balls and lightning
+conductors, the waves of the sea of wind, breaking on the chimneys
+for rocks, and the crashing roll of the thunder--is in harmony
+with the highest spiritual instincts; while the clouds and the stars
+look, if not nearer, yet more germane, and the moon gazes down on
+the lonely dweller in uplifted places, as if she had secrets with
+such. The cellars are the metaphysics, the garrets the poetry of
+the house.
+
+Mrs Courthope was more than kind, for she was greatly pleased
+at having Malcolm for an inmate. She led him from room to room,
+suggesting now and then a choice, and listening amusedly to his
+remarks of liking or disliking, and his marvel at strangeness or
+extent. At last he found himself following her along the passage
+in which was the mysterious door, but she never stayed her step,
+or seemed to intend showing one of the many rooms opening upon it.
+
+"Sic a bee's byke o' rooms!" said Malcolm, making a halt "Wha sleeps
+here?"
+
+"Nobody has slept in one of these rooms for I dare not say how many
+years," replied Mrs Courthope, without stopping; and as she spoke
+she passed the fearful door.
+
+"I wad like to see intil this room," said Malcolm.
+
+"That door is never opened," answered Mrs Courthope, who had now
+reached the end of the passage, and turned, lingering as in act
+while she spoke to move on.
+
+"And what for that?" asked Malcolm, continuing to stand before it.
+
+"I would rather not answer you just here. Come along. This is not
+a part of the house where you would like to be, I am sure."
+
+"Hoo ken ye that, mem? An' hoo can I say mysel' afore ye hae shawn
+me what the room 's like? It may be the verra place to tak my fancy.
+Jist open the door, mem, gien ye please, an lat's hae a keek intill
+'t."
+
+"I daren't open it. It's never opened, I tell you. It's against the
+rules of the house. Come to my room, and I'll tell you the story
+about it."
+
+"Weel, ye 'll lat me see intil the neist--winna ye? There's nae
+law agane openin' hit--is there?" said Malcolm, approaching the
+door next to the one in dispute.
+
+"Certainly not; but  pretty sure, once you've heard the story I
+have to tell, you won't choose to sleep in this part of the house."
+
+"Lat's luik, ony gait."
+
+So saying, Malcolm took upon himself to try the handle of the
+door. It was not locked: he peeped in, then entered. It was a small
+room, low ceiled, with a deep dormer window in the high pediment of
+a roof, and a turret recess on each side of the window. It seemed
+very light after the passage, and looked down upon the burn. It
+was comfortably furnished, and the curtains of its tent bed were
+chequered in squares of blue and white.
+
+"This is the verra place for me, mem," said Malcolm, reissuing;--
+"that is," he added, "gien ye dinna think it 's ower gran' for the
+likes o' me 'at 's no been used to onything half sae guid."
+
+"You're quite welcome to it," said Mrs Courthope, all but confident he
+would not care to occupy it after hearing the tale of Lord Gernon.
+
+She had not moved from the end of the passage while Malcolm was in
+the room--somewhat hurriedly she now led the way to her own. It
+seemed half a mile off to the wondering Malcolm, as he followed her
+down winding stairs, along endless passages, and round innumerable
+corners. Arrived at last, she made him sit down, and gave him
+a glass of home made wine to drink, while she told him the story
+much as she had already told it to the marquis, adding a hope to
+the effect that, if ever the marquis should express a wish to pry
+into the secret of the chamber, Malcolm would not encourage him in
+a fancy, the indulgence of which was certainly useless, and might
+be dangerous.
+
+"Me!" exclaimed Malcolm with surprise. "--As gien he wad heed a
+word I said!"
+
+"Very little sometimes will turn a man either in one direction or
+the other," said Mrs Courthope.
+
+"But surely, mem, ye dinna believe in sic fule auld warld stories
+as that! It's weel eneuch for a tale, but to think o' a body turnin'
+'ae fit oot o' 's gait for 't, blecks (nonplusses) me."
+
+"I don't say I believe it," returned Mrs Courthope, a little
+pettishly; "but there's no good in mere foolhardiness."
+
+"Ye dinna surely think, mem, 'at God wad lat onything depen' upo'
+whether a man opent a door in 's ain hoose or no! It's agane a'
+rizzon!" persisted Malcolm.
+
+"There might be reasons we couldn't understand," she replied. "To
+do what we are warned against from any quarter, without good reason,
+must be foolhardy at best."
+
+"Weel, mem, I maun hae the room neist the auld warlock's, ony gait,
+for in that  gauin' to sleep, an' in nae ither in a' this muckle
+hoose."
+
+Mrs Courthope rose, full of uneasiness, and walked up and down the
+room.
+
+" takin' upo' me naething ayont his lordship's ain word," urged
+Malcolm.
+
+"If you're to go by the very word," rejoined Mrs Courthope, stopping
+and looking him full in the face, "you might insist on sleeping in
+Lord Gernon's chamber itself."
+
+"Weal, an' sae I micht," returned Malcolm.
+
+The hinted possibility of having to change bad for so much worse,
+appeared to quench further objection.
+
+"I must get it ready myself then," she said resignedly, "for the
+maids won't even go up that stair. And as to going into any of
+those rooms!"
+
+"'Deed no, mem! ye sanna du that," cried Malcolm. "Sayna a word to
+ane o' them. I s' wadger  as guid's the auld warlock himsel' at
+makin' a bed. Jist gie me the sheets an' the blankets, an' I'll du
+'t as trim 's ony lass i' the hoose."
+
+"But the bed will want airing," objected the housekeeper.
+
+"By a' accoonts, that's the last thing it 's likly to want--lyin'
+neist door to yon chaumer. But I hae sleepit mony 's the time er'
+noo upo' the tap o' a boat load o' herrin', an' gien that never did
+me ony ill, it 's no likly a guid bed 'll kill me gien it sud be a
+wee mochy (rather full of moths)."
+
+Mrs Courthope yielded and gave him all that was needful, and before
+night Malcolm had made his new quarters quite comfortable. He did
+not retire to them, however, until he had seen his grandfather laid
+down to sleep in his lonely cottage.
+
+About. noon the next day the old man made his appearance in the
+kitchen. How he had found his way to it, neither he nor any one
+else could tell. There happened to be no one there when he entered,
+and the cook when she returned stood for a moment in the door,
+watching him as he felt flitting about with huge bony hands whose
+touch was yet light as the poise of a butterfly. Not knowing the
+old man, she fancied at first he was feeling after something in the
+shape of food, but presently his hands fell upon a brass candlestick.
+He clutched it, and commenced fingering it all over. Alas! it was
+clean, and with a look of disappointment he replaced it. Wondering
+yet more what his quest could be, she watched on. The next instant
+he had laid hold of a silver candlestick not yet passed through
+the hands of the scullery maid; and for a moment she fancied him a
+thief, for he had rejected the brass and now took the silver; but
+he went no farther with it than the fireplace, where he sat down
+on the end of the large fender, and, having spread his pocket
+handkerchief over his kilted knees, drew a similar rag from somewhere,
+and commenced cleaning it.
+
+By this time one of the maids who knew him had joined the cook,
+and also stood watching him with amusement. But when she saw the
+old knife drawn from his stocking, and about to be applied to the
+nozzle, to free it from adhering wax, it seemed more than time to
+break the silence.
+
+"Eh! that's a siller can'lestick, Maister MacPhail," she cried,
+"an' ye maunna tak a knife till 't, or ye'll scrat it a' dreidfu'."
+
+An angry flush glowed in the withered cheeks of the piper, as,
+without the least start at the suddenness of her interference, he
+turned his face in the direction of the speaker.
+
+"You take old Tuncan's finkers for persons of no etchucation, mem!
+As if tey couldn't know ta silfer from ta prass! If tey wass so
+stupid, her nose would pe telling tem so. Efen old Tuncan's knife
+'ll pe knowing petter than to scratch ta silfer--or ta prass
+either; old Tuncan's knife would pe scratching nothing petter tan
+ta skin of a Cawmill."
+
+Now the candlestick had no business in the kitchen, and if it
+were scratched, the butler would be indignant; but the girl was
+a Campbell, and Duncan's words so frightened her that she did not
+dare interfere. She soon saw, however, that the piper had not over
+vaunted his skill: the skene left not a mark upon the metal; in a
+few minutes he had melted away the wax he could not otherwise reach,
+and had rubbed the candlestick perfectly bright, leaving behind
+him no trace except an unpleasant odour of train oil from the rag.
+From that hour he was cleaner of lamps and candlesticks, as well
+as blower of bagpipes, to the House of Lossie; and had everything
+provided necessary to the performance of his duties with comfort
+and success.
+
+Before many weeks were over, he had proved the possession of
+such a talent for arrangement and general management, at least in
+everything connected with illumination, that the entire charge of
+the lighting of the house was left in his hands,--even to that
+of its stores of wax and tallow and oil; and great was the pleasure
+he derived, not only from the trust reposed in him, but from other
+more occult sources connected with the duties of his office.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII: THE LIBRARY
+
+
+Malcolm's first night was rather troubled,--not primarily from
+the fact that but a thin partition separated him from the wizard's
+chamber, but from the deadness of the silence around him; for
+he had been all his life accustomed to the near noise of the sea,
+and its absence had upon him the rousing effect of an unaccustomed
+sound. He kept hearing the dead silence--was constantly dropping,
+as it were into its gulf; and it was no wonder that a succession
+of sleepless fits, strung together rather than divided by as many
+dozes little better than startled rousings, should at length have
+so shaken his mental frame as to lay it open to the assaults of
+nightly terrors, the position itself being sufficient to seduce
+his imagination, and carry it over to the interests of the enemy.
+
+But Malcolm had early learned that a man's will must, like a true
+monarch, rule down every rebellious movement of its subjects, and
+he was far from yielding to such inroads as now assailed him: still
+it was long before he fell asleep, and then only to dream without
+quite losing consciousness of his peculiar surroundings. He seemed
+to know that he lay in his own bed, and yet to be somehow aware
+of the presence of a pale woman in a white garment, who sat on the
+side of the bed in the next room, still and silent, with her hands
+in her lap, and her eyes on the ground. He thought he had seen
+her before, and knew, notwithstanding her silence, that she was
+lamenting over a child she had lost. He knew also where her child
+was,--that it lay crying in a cave down by the seashore; but he
+could neither rise to go to her, nor open his mouth to call. The
+vision kept coming and coming, like the same tune played over and
+over on a barrel organ, and when he woke seemed to fill all the
+time he had slept.
+
+About ten o'clock he was summoned to the marquis's presence, and
+found him at breakfast with Lady Florimel.
+
+"Where did you sleep last night?" asked the marquis.
+
+"Neist door to the auld warlock," answered Malcolm.
+
+Lady Florimel looked up with a glance of bright interest: her father
+had just been telling her the story.
+
+"You did!" said the marquis. "Then Mrs Courthope--did she tell
+you the legend about him?"
+
+"Ay did she, my lord."
+
+"Well, how did you sleep?"
+
+"Middlin' only."
+
+"How was that?"
+
+"I dinna ken, 'cep it was 'at I was fule eneuch to fin' the place
+gey eerie like."
+
+"Aha!" said the marquis. "You've had enough of it! You won't try
+it again!"
+
+"What 's that ye say, my lord?" rejoined Malcolm. "Wad ye hae a
+man turn 's back at the first fleg? Na, na, my lord; that wad never
+du!"
+
+"Oh! then, you did have a fright?"
+
+"Na, I canna say that aither. Naething waur cam near me nor a dream
+'at plaguit me--an' it wasna sic an ill ane efter a'."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"I thocht there was a bonny leddy sittin' o' the bed i' the neist
+room, in her nichtgoon like, an' she was greitin' sair in her
+heirt, though she never loot a tear fa' doon. She was greitin' about
+a bairnie she had lost, an' I kent weel whaur the bairnie was--
+doon in a cave upo' the shore, I thoucht--an' was jist yirnin'
+to gang till her an' tell her, an' stop the greitin' o' her hert,
+but I cudna muv han' nor fit, naither cud I open my mou' to cry
+till her. An' I gaed dreamin' on at the same thing ower an' ower,
+a' the time I was asleep. But there was naething sae frichtsome
+aboot that, my lord."
+
+"No, indeed," said his lordship.
+
+"Only it garred me greit tu, my lord, 'cause I cudna win at her to
+help her."
+
+His lordship laughed, but oddly, and changed the subject.
+
+"There's no word of that boat yet," he said. "I must write again."
+
+"May I show Malcolm the library, papa?" asked Lady Florimel.
+
+"I wad fain see the buiks," adjected Malcolm.
+
+"You don't know what a scholar he is, papa!"
+
+"Little eneuch o' that!" said Malcolm.
+
+"Oh yes! I do," said the marquis, answering his daughter. "But he
+must keep the skipper from my books and the scholar from my boat."
+
+"Ye mean a scholar wha wad skip yer buiks, my lord! Haith! sic
+wad be a skipper wha wad ill scull yer boat!" said Malcolm, with
+a laugh at the poor attempt.
+
+"Bravo!" said the marquis, who certainly was not over critical.
+"Can you write a good hand?"
+
+"No ill, my lord."
+
+"So much the better! I see you'll be worth your wages."
+
+"That depen's on the wages," returned Malcolm.
+
+"And that reminds me you 've said nothing about them yet."
+
+"Naither has yer lordship."
+
+"Well, what are they to be?"
+
+"Whatever ye think proper, my lord. Only dinna gar me gang to
+Maister Crathie for them."
+
+The marquis had sent away the man who was waiting when Malcolm
+entered, and during this conversation Malcolm had of his own accord
+been doing his best to supply his place. The meal ended, Lady
+Florimel desired him to wait a moment in the hall.
+
+"He 's so amusing, papa!" she said. "I want to see him stare at
+the books. He thinks the schoolmaster's hundred volumes a grand
+library! He 's such a goose! It's the greatest fun in the world
+watching him."
+
+"No such goose!" said the marquis; but he recognized himself in
+his child, and laughed.
+
+Florimel ran off merrily, as bent on a joke, and joined Malcolm.
+
+"Now,  going to show you the library," she said.
+
+"Thank ye, my leddy; that will be gran'!" replied Malcolm.
+
+He followed her up two staircases, and through more than one long
+narrow passage: all the ducts of the house were long and narrow,
+causing him a sense of imprisonment--vanishing ever into freedom
+at the opening of some door into a great room. But never had be had
+a dream of such a room as that at which they now arrived. He started
+with a sort of marvelling dismay when she threw open the door of
+the library, and he beheld ten thousand volumes at a glance, all
+in solemn stillness. It was like a sepulchre of kings. But his
+astonishment took a strange form of expression, the thought in
+which was beyond the reach of his mistress.
+
+"Eh, my leddy!" he cried, after staring for a while in breathless
+bewilderment, "it 's jist like a byke o' frozen bees! Eh! gien they
+war a' to come to life an' stick their stangs o' trowth intill
+a body, the waukin' up wad be awfu'!--It jist gars my heid gang
+roon'!" he added, after a pause.
+
+"It is a fine thing," said the girl, "to have such a library."
+
+"'Deed is 't, my leddy! It's ane o' the preevileeges o' rank,"
+said Malcolm. "It taks a faimily that hauds on throu' centeries in
+a hoose whaur things gether, to mak sic an unaccoontable getherin'
+o' buiks as that. It's a gran' sicht--worth livin' to see."
+
+"Suppose you were to be a rich man some day," said Florimel, in
+the condescending tone she generally adopted when addressing him,
+"it would be one of the first things you would set about--wouldn't
+it--to get such a library together?"
+
+"Na, my leddy; I wad hae mair wut. A leebrary canna be made a' at
+ance, ony mair nor a hoose, or a nation, or a muckle tree: they
+maun a' tak time to grow, an' sae maun a leebrary. I wadna even ken
+what buiks to gang an' speir for.  I daursay, gien I war to try,
+I cudna at a moment's notice tell ye the names o' mair nor a twa
+score o' buiks at the ootside. Fowk maun mak acquantance amo' buiks
+as they wad amo' leevin' fowk."
+
+"But you could get somebody who knew more about them than yourself
+to buy for you."
+
+"I wad as sune think o' gettin' somebody to ate my denner for me."
+
+"No, that's not fair," said Florimel. "It would only be like
+getting somebody who knew more of cookery than yourself, to order
+your dinner for you."
+
+"ye're richt, my leddy; but still I wad as sune think o' the
+tane 's the tither. What wad come o' the like o' me, div ye think,
+broucht up upo' meal brose, an' herrin', gien ye was to set me
+doon to sic a denner as my lord, yer father, wad ait ilka day, an'
+think naething o'? But gien some fowk hed the buyin' o' my buiks,
+ thinkin' the first thing I wad hae to du, wad be to fling the
+half o' them into the burn."
+
+"What good would that do?"
+
+"Clear awa' the rubbitch. Ye see, my leddy, it 's no buiks, but what
+buiks. Eh! there maun be mony ane o' the richt sort here, though.
+I wonner gien Mr Graham ever saw them. He wad surely hae made
+mention o them i' my hearin'!"
+
+"What would be the first thing you would do, then, Malcolm, if you
+happened to turn out a great man after all?" said Florimel, seating
+herself in a huge library chair, whence, having arranged her skirt,
+she looked up in the young fisherman's face.
+
+"I doobt I wad hae to sit doon, an' turn ower the change a feow
+times afore I kent aither mysel' or what wad become me," he said.
+
+"That's not answering my question," retorted Florimel.
+
+"Weel, the second thing I wad du," said Malcolm, thoughtfully,
+and pausing a moment, "wad be to get Mr Graham to gang wi' me to
+Ebberdeen, an' cairry me throu' the classes there. Of coorse, I
+wadna try for prizes; that wadna be fair to them 'at cudna affoord
+a tutor at their lodgin's."
+
+"But it 's the first thing you would do that I want to know,"
+persisted the girl.
+
+"I tell't ye I wad sit doon an' think aboot it."
+
+"I don't count that doing anything."
+
+"'Deed, my leddy! thinkin 's the hardest wark I ken."
+
+"Well, what is it you would think about first?" said Florimel--
+not to be diverted from her course.
+
+"Ow, the third thing I wad du--"
+
+"I want to know the first thing you would think about."
+
+"I canna say yet what the third thing wad be. Fower year at the
+college wad gie me time to reflec upon a hantle o' things."
+
+"I insist on knowing the first thing you would think about doing,"
+cried Florimel, with mock imperiousness, but real tyranny.
+
+"Weel, my leddy, gien ye wull hae 't--but hoo great a man wad ye
+be makin' o' me?"
+
+"Oh!--let me see;--yes--yes--the heir to an earldom.--
+That's liberal enough--is it not?"
+
+"that's as muckle as say I wad come to be a yerl some day, sae be
+I didna dee upo' the ro'd?"
+
+"Yes--that's what it means."
+
+"An' a yerl's neist door till a markis--isna he?"
+
+"Yes--he's in the next lower rank."
+
+"Lower?--Ay!--No that muckle, maybe?"
+
+"No," said Lady Florimel consequentially; "the difference is not
+so great as to prevent their meeting on a level of courtesy."
+
+"I dinna freely ken what that means; but gien 't be yer leddyship's
+wull to mak a yerl o' me,  no to raise ony objections."
+
+He uttered it definitively, and stood silent.
+
+"Well?" said the girl.
+
+"What's yer wull, my leddy?" returned Malcolm, as if roused from
+a reverie.
+
+"Where's your answer?"
+
+"I said I wad be a yerl to please yer leddyship.--I wad be a
+flunky for the same rizzon, gien 't was to wait upo' yersel' an'
+nae ither."
+
+"I ask you," said Florimel, more imperiously than ever, "what is
+the first thing you would do, if you found yourself no longer a
+fisherman, but the son of an earl?"
+
+"But it maun be that I was a fisherman--to the en' o' a' creation,
+my leddy."
+
+"You refuse to answer my question?"
+
+"By no means, my leddy, gien ye wull hae an answer."
+
+"I will have an answer."
+
+"Gien ye wull hae 't than--But--"
+
+"No buts, but an answer!"
+
+"Weel--it 's yer am wyte, my leddy!--I wad jist gang doon upo'
+my k-nees, whaur I stude afore ye, and tell ye a heap o' things
+'at maybe by that time ye wad ken weel eneuch a'ready ."
+
+"What would you tell me?"
+
+"I wad tell ye 'at yer een war like the verra leme o' the levin
+(brightness of the lightning) itsel'; yer cheek like a white rose
+the licht frae a reid ane; yer hair jist the saft lattin' gang o'
+his han's whan the Maker cud du nae mair; yer mou' jist fashioned
+to drive fowk daft 'at daurna come nearer nor luik at it; an' for
+yer shape, it was like naething in natur' but itsel'.--Ye wad hae't
+my leddy!" he added apologetically--and well he might, for Lady
+Florimel's cheek had flushed, and her eye had been darting fire
+long before he got to the end of his Celtic outpouring. Whether she
+was really angry or not, she had no difficulty in making Malcolm
+believe she was. She rose from her chair--though not until he
+had ended--swept halfway to the door, then turned upon him with
+a flash.
+
+"How dare you?" she said, her breed well obeying the call of the
+game.
+
+" verra sorry, my leddy," faltered Malcolm, trying to steady
+himself against a strange trembling that had laid hold upon him,
+"--but ye maun alloo it was a' yer ain wyte."
+
+"Do you dare to say 1 encouraged you to talk such stuff to me?"
+
+"Ye did gar me, my leddy."
+
+Florimel turned and undulated from the room, leaving the poor fellow
+like a statue in the middle of it, with the books all turning their
+backs upon him.
+
+"Noo," he said to himself, "she's aff to tell her father, and
+there'll be a bonny bane to pyke atween him an' me! But haith! I'll
+jist tell him the trowth o' 't, an' syne he can mak a kirk an' a
+mill o' 't, gien he likes."
+
+With this resolution he stood his ground, every moment expecting
+the wrathful father to make his appearance and at the least order
+him out of the house. But minute passed after minute, and no wrathful
+father came. He grew calmer by degrees, and at length began to peep
+at the titles of the books.
+
+When the great bell rang for lunch, he was embalmed rather than
+buried in one of Milton's prose volumes--standing before the
+shelf on which he had found it--the very incarnation of study.
+
+My reader may well judge that Malcolm could not have been very far
+gone in love, seeing he was thus able to read, remark in return
+that it was not merely the distance between him and Lady Florimel
+that had hitherto preserved his being from absorption and his will
+from annihilation, but also the strength of his common sense, and
+the force of his individuality.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV: MILTON, AND THE BAY MARE
+
+
+For some days Malcolm saw nothing more of Lady Florimel; but with
+his grandfather's new dwelling to see to, the carpenter's shop and
+the blacksmith's forge open to him, and an eye to detect whatever
+wanted setting right, the hours did not hang heavy on his hands.
+At length, whether it was that she thought she had punished him
+sufficiently for an offence for which she was herself only to blame,
+or that she had indeed never been offended at all and had only
+been keeping up her one sided game, she began again to indulge the
+interest she could not help feeling in him, an interest heightened
+by the mystery which hung over his birth, and by the fact that
+she knew that concerning him of which he was himself ignorant. At
+the same time, as I have already said, she had no little need of
+an escape from the ennui which, now that the novelty of a country
+life had worn off did more than occasionally threaten her. She
+began again to seek his company under the guise of his help, half
+requesting, half commanding his services; and Malcolm found himself
+admitted afresh to the heaven of her favour. Young as he was, he
+read himself a lesson suitable to the occasion.
+
+One afternoon the marquis sent for him to the library, but when he
+reached it his master was not yet there. He took down the volume of
+Milton in which he had been reading before, and was soon absorbed
+in it again.
+
+"Faith! it 's a big shame," he cried at length almost unconsciously,
+and closed the book with a slam.
+
+"What is a big shame?" said the voice of the marquis close behind
+him.
+
+Malcolm started, and almost dropped the volume.
+
+"I beg yer lordship's pardon," he said; "I didna hear ye come in.
+
+"What is the book you were reading?" asked the marquis.
+
+"I was jist readin' a bit o' Milton's Eikonoklastes," answered
+Malcolm, "--a buik I hae hard tell o', but never saw wi' my ain
+een afore."
+
+"And what's your quarrel with it?" asked his lordship.
+
+"I canna mak oot what sud set a great man like Milton sae sair
+agane a puir cratur like Cherles."
+
+"Read the history, and you'll see."
+
+"Ow! I ken something aboot the politics o' the time, an'  no
+sayin' they war that wrang to tak the heid frae him, but what for
+sud Milton hate the man efter the king was deid?"
+
+"Because he didn't think the king dead enough, I suppose."
+
+"I see!--an' they war settin' him up for a saint. Still he had
+a richt to fair play.--Jist hearken, my lord."
+
+So saying, Malcolm reopened the volume, and read the well known
+passage, in the first chapter, in which Milton censures the king as
+guilty of utter irreverence, because of his adoption of the prayer
+of Pamela in the Arcadia.
+
+"Noo, my lord," he said, half closing the book, "what wad ye expec'
+to come upo', efter sic a denunciation as that, but some awfu'
+haithenish thing? Weel, jist hearken again, for here's the verra
+prayer itsel' in a futnote."
+
+His lordship had thrown himself into a chair, had crossed one leg
+over the other, and was now stroking its knee.
+
+"Noo, my lord," said Malcolm again, as he concluded, "what think
+ye o' the jeedgment passed?"
+
+"Really I have no opinion to give about it," answered the marquis.
+" no theologian. I see no harm in the prayer."
+
+"Hairm in 't, my lord! It's perfetly gran'! It's sic a prayer as
+cudna weel be aiqualt. It vexes me to the verra hert o' my sowl that
+a michty man like Milton--ane whase bein' was a crood o' hermonies
+--sud ca' that the prayer o' a haithen wuman till a haithen God.
+'O all seein' Licht, an' eternal Life o' a' things!'--Ca's he
+that a haithen God?--or her 'at prayed sic a prayer a haithen
+wuman?"
+
+"Well, well," said the marquis, "I do n't want it all over again.
+I see nothing to find fault with, myself, but I do n't take much
+interest in that sort of thing."
+
+"There's a wee bitty o' Laitin, here i' the note, 'at I canna freely
+mak oot," said Malcolm, approaching Lord Lossie with his finger on
+the passage, never doubting that the owner of such a library must
+be able to read Latin perfectly: Mr Graham would have put him right
+at once, and his books would have been lost in one of the window
+corners of this huge place. But his lordship waved him back.
+
+"I can't be your tutor," he said, not unkindly. "My Latin is far
+too rusty for use."
+
+The fact was that his lordship had never got beyond Maturin Cordier's
+Colloquies.
+
+"Besides," he went on, "I want you to do something for me."
+
+Malcolm instantly replaced the book on its shelf, and approached
+his master, saying--
+
+"Wull yer lordship lat me read whiles, i' this gran' place? I mean
+whan  no wantit ither gaits, an' there's naebody here."
+
+"To be sure," answered the marquis; "--only the scholar must n't
+come with the skipper's hands."
+
+"I s' tak guid care o' that, my lord. I wad as sune think o' han'lin'
+a book wi' wark-like han's as I wad o' branderin' a mackeral ohn
+cleaned it oot."
+
+"And when we have visitors, you'll be careful not to get in their
+way."
+
+"I wull that, my lord."
+
+"And now," said his lordship rising, "I want you to take a letter
+to Mrs Stewart of Kirkbyres.--Can you ride?"
+
+"I can ride the bare back weel eneuch for a fisher loon," said
+Malcolm; "but I never was upon a saiddle i' my life."
+
+"The sooner you get used to one the better. Go and tell Stoat to
+saddle the bay mare. Wait in the yard: I will bring the letter out
+to you myself."
+
+"Verra weel, my lord!" said Malcolm. He knew, from sundry remarks
+he had heard about the stables, that the mare in question was a
+ticklish one to ride, but would rather have his neck broken than
+object.
+
+Hardly was she ready, when the marquis appeared, accompanied by Lady
+Florimel--both expecting to enjoy a laugh at Malcolm's expense.
+But when the mare was brought out, and he was going to mount her
+where she stood, something seemed to wake in the marquis's heart,
+or conscience, or wherever the pigmy Duty slept that occupied the
+all but sinecure of his moral economy: he looked at Malcolm for a
+moment, then at the ears of the mare hugging her neck, and last at
+the stones of the paved yard.
+
+"Lead her on to the turf, Stoat," he said.
+
+The groom obeyed, all followed, and Malcolm mounted. The same
+instant he lay on his back on the grass, amidst a general laugh,
+loud on the part of marquis and lady, and subdued on that of the
+servants. But the next he was on his feet, and, the groom still
+holding the mare, in the saddle again: a little anger is a fine
+spur for the side of even an honest intent. This time he sat for
+half a minute, and then found himself once more on the grass. It
+was but once more: his mother earth had claimed him again only to
+complete his strength. A third time he mounted--and sat. As soon
+as she perceived it would be hard work to unseat him, the mare was
+quiet.
+
+"Bravo!" cried the marquis, giving him the letter.
+
+"Will there be an answer, my lord?"
+
+"Wait and see."
+
+"I s' gar you pey for't, gien we come upon a broon rig atween this
+an' Kirkbyres," said Malcolm, addressing the mare, and rode away.
+
+Both the marquis and Lady Florimel, whose laughter had altogether
+ceased in the interest of watching the struggle, stood looking
+after him with a pleased expression, which, as he vanished up the
+glen, changed to a mutual glance and smile.
+
+"He's got good blood in him, however he came by it," said the
+marquis. "The country is more indebted to its nobility than is
+generally understood."
+
+Otherwise indebted at least than Lady Florimel could gather from
+her father's remark!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV: KIRKBYRES
+
+
+Malcolm felt considerably refreshed after his tussle with the mare
+and his victory over her, and much enjoyed his ride of ten miles.
+It was a cool autumn afternoon. A few of the fields were being
+reaped, one or two were crowded with stooks, while many crops of
+oats yet waved and rustled in various stages of vanishing green.
+On all sides kine were lowing; overhead rooks were cawing; the sun
+was nearing the west, and in the hollows a thin mist came steaming
+up. Malcolm had never in his life been so far from the coast before:
+his road led southwards into the heart of the country.
+
+The father of the late proprietor of Kirkbyres had married the
+heiress of Gersefell, an estate which marched with his own, and
+was double its size, whence the lairdship was sometimes spoken of
+by the one name, sometimes by the other. The combined properties
+thus inherited by the late Mr Stewart were of sufficient extent to
+justify him, although a plain man, in becoming a suitor for the hand
+of the beautiful daughter of a needy baronet in the neighbourhood
+--with the already somewhat tarnished condition of whose reputation,
+having come into little contact with the world in which she moved,
+he was unacquainted. Quite unexpectedly she also, some years after
+their marriage, brought him a property of considerable extent, a
+fact which doubtless had its share in the birth and nourishment of
+her consuming desire to get the estates into her own management.
+
+Towards the end of his journey, Malcolm came upon a bare moorland
+waste, on the long ascent of a low hill,--very desolate, with not
+a tree or house within sight for two miles. A ditch, half full of
+dark water, bordered each side of the road, which went straight as
+a rod through a black peat moss lying cheerless and dreary on all
+sides--hardly less so where the sun gleamed from the surface of
+some stagnant pool filling a hole whence peats had been dug, or
+where a patch of cotton grass waved white and lonely in the midst
+of the waste expanse. At length, when he reached the top of the
+ridge, he saw the house of Kirkbyres below him; and, with a small
+modern lodge near by, a wooden gate showed the entrance to its
+grounds. Between the gate and the house he passed through a young
+plantation of larches and other firs for a quarter of a mile, and
+so came to an old wall with an iron gate in the middle of it, within
+which the old house, a gaunt meagre building--a bare house in
+fact, relieved only by four small turrets or bartizans, one at each
+corner--lifted its grey walls, pointed gables, and steep roof
+high into the pale blue air. He rode round the outer wall, seeking
+a back entrance, and arrived at a farm yard, where a boy took
+his horse. Finding the kitchen door open, he entered, and having
+delivered his letter to a servant girl, sat down to wait the possible
+answer.
+
+In a few minutes she returned and requested him to follow her.
+This was more than he had calculated upon, but he obeyed at once.
+The girl led him along a dark passage, and up a winding stone
+stair, much worn, to a room richly furnished, and older fashioned,
+he thought, than any room he had yet seen in Lossie House.
+
+On a settee, with her back to a window, sat Mrs Stewart, a lady
+tall and slender, with well poised, easy carriage, and a motion
+that might have suggested the lithe grace of a leopard. She greeted
+him with a bend of the head and a smile, which, even in the twilight
+and her own shadow, showed a gleam of ivory, and spoke to him in
+a hard sweet voice, wherein an ear more experienced than Malcolm's
+might have detected an accustomed intent to please. Although he knew
+nothing of the so called world, and hence could recognize neither
+the Parisian air of her dress nor the indications of familiarity
+with fashionable life prominent enough in her bearing, he yet could
+not fail to be at least aware of the contrast between her appearance
+and her surroundings. Yet less could the far stronger contrast
+escape him, between the picture in his own mind of the mother of
+the mad laird, and the woman before him; he could not by any effort
+cause the two to coalesce.
+
+"You have had a long ride, Mr MacPhail," she said; "you must be
+tired."
+
+"What wad tire me, mem?" returned Malcolm. "It's a fine caller
+evenin', an' I hed ane o' the marquis's best mears to carry me."
+
+"You'll take a glass of wine, anyhow," said Mrs Stewart. "Will you
+oblige me by ringing the bell?"
+
+"No, I thank ye, mem. The mear wad be better o' a mou'fu' o' meal
+an' watter, but I want naething mysel'."
+
+A shadow passed over the lady's face. She rose and rang the bell,
+then sat in silence until it was answered.
+
+"Bring the wine and cake," she said, then turned to Malcolm. "Your
+master speaks very kindly of you. He seems to trust you thoroughly."
+
+" verra glaid to hear 't, mem; but he has never had muckle cause
+to trust or distrust me yet."
+
+"He seems even to think that I might place equal confidence in
+you."
+
+"I dinna ken. I wadna hae ye lippen to me owre muckle," said Malcolm.
+
+"You do not mean to contradict the good character your master gives
+you?" said the lady, with a smile and a look right into his eyes.
+
+"I wadna hae ye lippen till me afore ye had my word," said Malcolm.
+
+"I may use my own judgment about that," she replied, with another
+winning smile. "But oblige me by taking a glass of wine."
+
+She rose and approached the decanters.
+
+"'Deed no, mem  no used till 't, an' it micht jummle my
+jeedgement," said Malcolm, who had placed himself on the defensive
+from the first, jealous of his own conduct as being the friend of
+the laird.
+
+At his second refusal the cloud again crossed the lady's brow, but
+her smile did not vanish. Pressing her hospitality no more, she
+resumed her seat.
+
+"My lord tells me," she said, folding a pair of lovely hands on
+her lap, "that you see my poor unhappy boy sometimes."
+
+"No sae dooms (absolutely) unhappy, mem!" said Malcolm; but she
+went on without heeding the remark.
+
+"And that you rescued him not long ago from the hands of ruffians."
+
+Malcolm made no reply.
+
+"Everybody knows," she continued, after a slight pause, "what an
+unhappy mother I am. It is many years since I lost the loveliest
+infant ever seen, while my poor Stephen was left to be the mockery
+of every urchin in the street!"
+
+She sighed deeply, and one of the fair hands took a hand kerchief
+from a work table near.
+
+"No in Portlossie, mem," said Malcolm. "There's verra feow o' them
+so hard hertit or so ill mainnert. They're used to seein' him at the
+schuil, whaur he shaws himsel' whiles; an' he 's a great favourite
+wi' them, for he's ane o' the best craturs livin'."
+
+"A poor, witless, unmanageable being! He's a dreadful grief to me,"
+said the widowed mother, with a deep sigh.
+
+"A bairn could manage him," said Malcolm in strong contradiction.
+
+"Oh, if I could but convince him of my love! but he won't give me
+a chance. He has an unaccountable dread of me, which makes him as
+well as me wretched. It is a delusion which no argument can overcome,
+and seems indeed an essential part of his sad affliction. The more
+care and kindness he needs, the less will he accept at my hands. I
+long to devote my life to him, and he will not allow me. I should
+be but too happy to nurse him day and night. Ah, Mr MacPhail, you
+little know a mother's heart! Even if my beautiful boy had not been
+taken from me, Stephen would still have been my idol, idiot as he
+is--and will be as long as he lives. And--"
+
+"He 's nae idiot, mem," interposed Malcolm.
+
+"And just imagine," she went on, "what a misery it must be to a
+widowed mother, poor companion as he would be at the best, to think
+of her boy roaming the country like a beggar! sleeping she doesn't
+know where! eating wretched food! and--"
+
+"Guid parritch an' milk, an' brose an' butter," said Malcolm
+parenthetically; "--whiles herrin' an' yallow haddies."
+
+"It's enough to break a mother's heart! If I could but persuade him
+to come home for a week so as to have a chance with him! But it 's
+no use trying: ill disposed people have made mischief between
+us, telling wicked lies, and terrifying the poor fellow almost to
+death. It is quite impossible except I get some one to help me--
+and there are so few who have any influence with him!"
+
+Malcolm thought she must surely have had chances enough before he
+ran away from her; but he could not help feeling softened towards
+her.
+
+"Supposin' I was to get ye speech o' 'im, mem?" he said.
+
+"That would not be of the slightest use. He is so prejudiced against
+me, he would only shriek, and go into one of those horrible fits."
+
+"I dinna see what's to be dune than," said Malcolm.
+
+"I must have him brought here--there is no other way."
+
+"An' whaur wad be the guid o' that, mem? By yer ain shawin', he
+wad rin oot o' 's verra body to win awa' frae ye."
+
+"I did not mean by force," returned Mrs Stewart. "Some one he
+has confidence in must come with him. Nothing else will give me a
+chance. He would trust you now; your presence would keep him from
+being terrified--at his own mother, alas! through you he would
+learn to trust me; and if a course of absolute indulgence did not
+bring him to live like other people--that of course is impossible
+--it might at least induce him to live at home, and cease to be
+a byword to the neighbourhood."
+
+Her tone was so refined, and her voice so pleading; her sorrow was
+so gentle; and she looked, in the dimness, to Malcolm's imagination
+at least, so young and handsome, that the strong castle of his
+prejudices was swaying as if built on reeds; and had it not been
+that he was already the partizan of her son, and therefore in honour
+bound to give him the benefit of every doubt, he would certainly
+have been gained over to work her will. He knew absolutely nothing
+against her--not even that she was the person he had seen in Mrs
+Catanach's company in the garret of Lossie House. But he steeled
+himself to distrust her, and held his peace.
+
+"It is clear," she resumed after a pause, "that the intervention of
+some friend of both is the only thing that can be of the smallest
+use. I know you are a friend of his--a true one, and I do not
+see why you should not be a friend of mine as well--Will you be
+my friend too?"
+
+She rose as she said the words, and approaching him, bent on him
+out of the shadow the full strength of eyes whose light had not yet
+begun to pale before the dawn we call death, and held out a white
+hand glimmering in the dusk: she knew only too well the power of
+a still fine woman of any age over a youth of twenty.
+
+Malcolm, knowing nothing about it, yet felt hers, and was on his
+guard. He rose also, but did not take her hand.
+
+"I have had only too much reason," she added, "to distrust some
+who, unlike you, professed themselves eager to serve me; but I know
+neither Lord Lossie nor you will play me false."
+
+She took his great rough hand between her two soft palms, and for
+one moment Malcolm was tempted--not to betray his friend, but
+to simulate a yielding sympathy, in order to come at the heart of
+her intent, and should it prove false, to foil it the more easily.
+But the honest nature of him shrunk from deception, even where the
+object of it was good: he was not at liberty to use falsehood for
+the discomfiture of the false even; a pretended friendship was of
+the vilest of despicable things, and the more holy the end, the
+less fit to be used for the compassing of it--least of all in
+the cause of a true friendship.
+
+"I canna help ye, mem," he said; "I daurna. I hae sic a regaird
+for yer son 'at afore I wad du onything to hairm him, I wad hae my
+twa han's chappit frae the shackle bane."
+
+"Surely, my dear Mr MacPhail," returned the lady in her most
+persuasive tones, and with her sweetest smile, "you cannot call it
+harming a poor idiot to restore him to the care of his own mother!"
+
+"That's as it turnt oot," rejoined Malcolm. "But  sure o' ae
+thing, mem, an' that is, 'at he's no sae muckle o' an eediot as
+some fowk wad hae him."
+
+Mrs Stewart's face fell, she turned from him, and going back to
+her seat hid her face in her handkerchief.
+
+" afraid," she said sadly, after a moment, "I must give up my
+last hope: you are not disposed to be friendly to me, Mr MacPhail;
+you too have been believing hard things of me."
+
+"That's true; but no frae hearsay alane," returned Malcolm. "The
+luik o' the puir fallow whan he but hears the chance word mither,
+'s a sicht no to be forgotten. He grips his lugs atween 's twa
+han's, an' rins like a colley wi' a pan at 's tail. That couldna
+come o' naething."
+
+Mrs Stewart hid her face on the cushioned arm of the settee, and
+sobbed. A moment after she sat erect again, but languid and red
+eyed, saying, as if with sudden resolve:
+
+"I will tell you all I know about it, and then you can judge for
+yourself. When he was a very small child, I took him for advice
+to the best physicians in London and Paris: all advised a certain
+operation which had to be performed for consecutive months, at
+intervals of a few days. Though painful it was simple, yet of such
+a nature that no one was so fit to attend to it as his mother. Alas!
+instead of doing him any good, it has done me the worst injury in
+the world: my child hates me!"
+
+Again she hid her face on the settee.
+
+The explanation was plausible enough, and the grief of the mother
+surely apparent! Malcolm could not but be touched.
+
+"It's no 'at  no willin' to be your freen', mem; but  yer
+son's freen' a'ready, an' gien he war to hear onything 'at gart
+him mislippen till me, it wad gang to my hert."
+
+"Then you can judge what I feel!" said the lady.
+
+"Gien it wad hale your hert to hurt mine, I wad think aboot it,
+mem; but gien it hurtit a' three o' 's, and did guid to nane, it
+wad be a misfit a'thegither. I'll du naething till  doonricht
+sure it 's the pairt o' a freen'."
+
+"That's just what makes you the only fit person to help me that I
+know. If I were to employ people in the affair, they might be rough
+with the poor fellow."
+
+"Like eneuch, mem," assented Malcolm, while the words put him afresh
+on his guard.
+
+"But I might be driven to it," she added.
+
+Malcolm responded with an unuttered vow.
+
+"It might become necessary to use force--whereas you could lead
+him with a word."
+
+"Na;  naither sic witch nor sic traitor."
+
+"Where would be the treachery when you knew it would be for his
+good?"
+
+"That's jist what I dinna ken, mem," retorted Malcolm. "Luik ye
+here, mem," he continued, rousing himself to venture an appeal to
+the mother's heart; "--here's a man it has pleased God to mak no
+freely like ither fowk. His min' though cawpable a hantle mair nor
+a body wad think 'at didna ken him sae weel as I du, is certainly
+weyk--though maybe the weykness lies mair i' the tongue than
+i' the brain o' 'im efter a'--an' he's been sair frichtit wi'
+some guideship or ither; the upshot o 't a' bein', 'at he's unco
+timoursome, and ready to bursten himsel' rinnin' whan there's nane
+pursuin'. But he's the gentlest o' craturs--a doonricht gentleman,
+mem, gien ever there was ane--an' that kin'ly wi' a' cratur, baith
+man an' beast! A verra bairn cud guide him--ony gait but ane."
+
+"Anywhere but to his mother!" exclaimed Mrs Stewart, pressing her
+handkerchief to her eyes, and sobbed as she spoke. "There is a
+child he is very fond of, I am told," she added, recovering herself.
+
+"He likes a' bairns," returned Malcolm, "an' they're maistly
+a' freen'ly wi' him. But there's but jist ae thing 'at maks life
+endurable till 'im. He suffers a hantle (a great deal) wi' that
+puir back o' his, an' wi' his breath tu whan he's frichtit, for
+his hert gangs loupin like a sawmon in a bag net. An' he suffers
+a hantle, forbye, in his puir feeble min tryin' to unnerstan' the
+guid things 'at fowk tells him, an' jaloosin' it 's his ain wyte 'at
+he disna unnerstan' them better an' whiles he thinks himsel' the
+child o' sin and wrath, an' that Sawtan has some special propriety
+in him, as the carritchis says--"
+
+"But," interrupted the lady hurriedly, "you were going to tell me
+the one comfort he has."
+
+"It's his leeberty, mem--jist his leeberty; to gang whaur he lists
+like the win'; to turn his face whaur he wull i' the mornin', an'
+back again at nicht gien he likes; to wan'er--"
+
+"Back where?" interrupted the mother, a little too eagerly.
+
+"Whaur he likes, mem--I cudna say whaur wi' ony certainty. But
+aih! he likes to hear the sea moanin', an' watch the stars sheenin'!
+--There's a sicht o' oondevelopit releegion in him, as Maister
+Graham says; an' I du not believe 'at the Lord 'll see him wranged
+mair nor 's for 's guid. But it 's my belief, gien ye took the
+leeberty frae the puir cratur, ye wad kill him."
+
+"Then you won't help me!" she cried despairingly. "They tell me
+you are an orphan yourself--and yet you will not take pity on a
+childless mother!--worse than childless, for I had the loveliest
+boy once--he would be about your age now, and I have never had
+any comfort in life since I lost him. Give me my son, and I will
+bless you--love you."
+
+As she spoke she rose, and approaching him gently, laid a hand on
+his shoulder. Malcolm trembled, but stood his mental ground.
+
+"'Deed, mem, I can an' wull promise ye naething!" he said. "Are ye
+to play a man fause 'cause he's less able to tak care o' himsel'
+than ither fowk? Gien I war sure 'at ye cud mak it up, an' 'at
+he would be happy wi' ye efterhin, it micht be anither thing; but
+excep' ye garred him, ye cudna get him to bide lang eneuch for ye
+to try--an' syne (even then) he wad dee afore ye hed convenced
+him. I doobt, mem, ye hae lost yer chance wi' him and maun du yer
+best to be content withoot him--I'll promise ye this muckle, gien
+ye like--I s' tell him what ye hae said upo' the subjec'."
+
+"Much good that will be!" replied the lady, with ill concealed
+scorn.
+
+"Ye think he wadna unnerstan' 't; but he unnerstan's wonnerfu'."
+
+"And you would come again, and tell me what he said?' she murmured,
+with the eager persuasiveness of reviving hope.
+
+"Maybe ay, maybe no--I winna promise.--Hae ye ony answer to
+sen' back to my lord's letter, mem?"
+
+"No; I cannot write; I cannot even think. You have made me so
+miserable!"
+
+Malcolm lingered.
+
+"Go, go;" said the lady dejectedly. "Tell your master I am not
+well. I will write tomorrow. If you hear anything of my poor boy,
+do take pity upon me and come and tell me."
+
+The stiffer partizan Malcolm appeared, the more desirable did it
+seem in Mrs Stewart's eyes to gain him over to her side. Leaving
+his probable active hostility out of the question, she saw plainly
+enough that, if he were called on to give testimony as to the laird's
+capacity, his witness would pull strongly against her plans; while,
+if the interests of such a youth were wrapped up in them, that fact
+in itself would prejudice most people in favour of them.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI: THE BLOW
+
+
+"Well, Malcolm," said his lordship, when the youth reported himself,
+"how's Mrs Stewart?"
+
+"No ower weel pleased, my lord," answered Malcolm.
+
+"What!--you have n't been refusing to--?"
+
+"Deed hev I, my lord!"
+
+"Tut! tut!--Have you brought me any message from her?"
+
+He spoke rather angrily.
+
+"Nane but that she wasna weel, an' wad write the morn."
+
+The marquis thought for a few moments.
+
+"If I make a personal matter of it, MacPhail--I mean--you won't
+refuse me if I ask a personal favour of you?"
+
+"I maun ken what it is afore I say onything, my lord."
+
+"You may trust me not to require anything you couldn't undertake."
+
+"There micht be twa opinions, my lord."
+
+"You young boor! What is the world coming to? By Jove!"
+
+"As far 's I can gang wi' a clean conscience, I'll gang,--no ae
+step ayont," said Malcolm.
+
+"You mean to say your judgment is a safer guide than mine?"
+
+"No, my lord; I micht weel follow yer lordship's jeedgment, but
+gien there be a conscience i' the affair, it 's my ain conscience
+ bun' to follow, an' no yer lordship's, or ony ither man's.
+Suppose the thing 'at seemed richt to yer lordship, seemed wrang
+to me, what wad ye hae me du than?"
+
+"Do as I told you, and lay the blame on me."
+
+"Na, my lord, that winna haud: I bude to du what I thoucht richt,
+an' lay the blame upo' naebody, whatever cam o' 't."
+
+"You young hypocrite! Why did n't you tell me you meant to set up
+for a saint before I took you into my service?"
+
+"'Cause I had nae sic intention, my lord. Surely a body micht ken
+himsel' nae sant, an' yet like to haud his han's clean!"
+
+"What did Mrs Stewart tell you she wanted of you?" asked the marquis
+almost fiercely, after a moment's silence.
+
+"She wantit me to get the puir laird to gang back till her; but
+I sair misdoobt, for a' her fine words, it 's a closed door, gien
+it bena a lid, she wad hae upon him; an' I wad suner be hangt nor
+hae a thoom i' that haggis."
+
+"Why should you doubt what a lady tells you?"
+
+"I wadna be ower ready, but I hae hard things, ye see, an' bude to
+be upo' my gaird."
+
+"Well, I suppose, as you are a personal friend of the idiot--"
+His lordship had thought to sting him, and paused for a moment;
+but Malcolm's manner revealed nothing except waiting watchfulness.
+
+"--I must employ some one else to get a hold of the fellow for
+her," he concluded.
+
+"Ye winna du that, my lord," cried Malcolm, in a tone of entreaty;
+but his master chose to misunderstand him.
+
+"Who's to prevent me, I should like to know?" he said.
+
+Malcolm accepted the misinterpretation involved, and answered--
+but calmly:
+
+"Me, my lord. I wull. At ony rate, I s' du my best."
+
+"Upon my word!" exclaimed Lord Lossie, "you presume sufficiently
+on my good nature, young man!"
+
+"Hear me ae moment, my lord," returned Malcolm. "I've been turnin'
+'t ower i' my min', an' I see, plain as the daylicht, that
+bun', bein' yer lordship's servan' an' trustit by yer lordship, to
+say that to yersel' the whilk I was nowise bun' to say to Mistress
+Stewart. Sae, at the risk o' angerin' ye, I maun tell yer lordship,
+wi' a' respec', 'at gien I can help it, there sall no han', gentle
+or semple, be laid upo' the laird against his ain wull."
+
+The marquis was getting tired of the contest. He was angry too,
+and none the less that he felt Malcolm was in the right.
+
+"Go to the devil you booby!" he said--even more in impatience
+than in wrath.
+
+" thinkin' I needna budge," retorted Malcolm, angry also.
+
+"What do you mean by that insolence?"
+
+"I mean, my lord, that to gang will be to gang frae him. He canna
+be far frae yer lordship's lug this meenute."
+
+All the marquis's gathered annoyance broke out at last in rage. He
+started from his chair, made three strides to Malcolm, and struck
+him in the face. Malcolm staggered back till he was brought up by
+the door.
+
+"Hoot, my lord!" he exclaimed, as he sought his blue cotton
+handkerchief, "ye sudna hae dune that: ye'll blaud the carpet!"
+
+"You precious idiot!" cried his lordship, already repenting the
+deed; "why did n't you defend yourself?"
+
+"The quarrel was my ain, an' I cud du as I likit, my lord."
+
+"And why should you like to take a blow? Not to lift a hand, even
+to defend yourself!" said the marquis, vexed both with Malcolm and
+with himself.
+
+"Because I saw I was i' the wrang, my. lord. The quarrel was o'
+my ain makin': I hed no richt to lowse my temper an' be impident.
+Sae I didna daur defen' mysel'. An' I beg yer lordship's pardon.
+But dinna ye du me the wrang to imaigine, my lord, 'cause I took a
+flewet (blow) in guid pairt whan I kent mysel' i' the wrang, 'at
+that's hoo I wad cairry mysel' gien 'twas for the puir laird. Faith!
+I s' gar ony man ken a differ there!"
+
+"Go along with you--and do n't show yourself till you 're fit to
+be seen. I hope it 'll be a lesson to you."
+
+"It wull, my lord," said Malcolm. "But," he added, "there was nae
+occasion to gie me sic a dirdum: a word wad hae pitten me mair i'
+the wrang."
+
+So saying, he left the room, with his handkerchief to his face.
+The marquis was really sorry for the blow, chiefly because Malcolm,
+without a shadow of pusillanimity, had taken it so quietly. Malcolm
+would, however, have had very much more the worse of it had he
+defended himself, for his master had been a bruiser in his youth,
+and neither his left hand nor his right arm had yet forgot their
+cunning so far as to leave him less than a heavy overmatch for one
+unskilled, whatever his strength or agility.
+
+For some time after he was gone, the marquis paced up and down the
+room, feeling strangely and unaccountably uncomfortable.
+
+"The great lout!" he kept saying to himself; "why did he let me
+strike him?"
+
+Malcolm went to his grandfather's cottage. In passing the window,
+he peeped in. The old man was sitting with his bagpipes on his
+knees, looking troubled. When he entered, he held out his arms to
+him.
+
+"Tere 'll pe something cone wrong with you, Malcolm, my son!" he
+cried. "You'll pe hafing a hurt! She knows it. She has it within
+her, though she couldn't chust see it. Where is it?"
+
+As he spoke he proceeded to feel his head and face. "God pless her
+sowl! you are plooding, Malcolm!" he cried the same moment.
+
+"It's naething to greit aboot, daddy. It's hardly mair nor the
+flype o' a sawmon's tail."
+
+"Put who 'll pe tone it?" asked Duncan angrily.
+
+"Ow, the maister gae me a bit flewet!" answered Malcolm with
+indifference.
+
+"Where is he?" cried the piper, rising in wrath. "Take her to him,
+Malcolm. She will stap him. She will pe killing him. She will trife
+her turk into his wicked pody."
+
+"Na, na, daddy," said Malcolm; "we hae hed eneuch o' durks a'ready!"
+
+"Tat you haf tone it yourself, ten, Malcolm? My prave poy!"
+
+"No, daddy; I took my licks like a man, for I deserved them."
+
+"Deserfed to pe peaten, Malcolm--to pe peaten like a tog? Ton't
+tell her tat! Ton't preak her heart, my poy."
+
+"It wasna that muckle, daddy. I only telled him auld Horny was at
+'s lug."
+
+"And she'll make no toubt it was true," cried Duncan, emerging
+sudden from his despondency.
+
+"Ay, sae he was, only I had nae richt to say 't."
+
+"Put you striked him pack, Malcolm? Ton't say you tidn't gif him
+pack his plow. Ton't tell it to her, Malcolm!"
+
+"Hoo cud I hit my maister, an' mysel' i' the wrang, daddy?"
+
+"Then she'll must to it herself," said Duncan quietly, and, with
+the lips compressed of calm decision, turned towards the door, to
+get his dirk from the next room.
+
+"Bide ye still, daddy," said Malcolm, laying hold of his arm, "an'
+sit ye doon till ye hear a' aboot it first."
+
+Duncan yielded, for the sake of better instruction in the circumstances;
+over the whole of which Malcolm now went. But before he came to a
+close, he had skilfully introduced and enlarged upon the sorrows
+and sufferings and dangers of the laird, so as to lead the old
+man away from the quarrel, dwelling especially on the necessity of
+protecting Mr Stewart from the machinations of his mother. Duncan
+listened to all he said with marked sympathy.
+
+"An' gien the markis daur to cross me in 't," said Malcolm at last,
+as he ended, "lat him leuk till himsel', for it 's no at a buffet
+or twa I wad stick, gien the puir laird was intill 't."
+
+This assurance, indicative of a full courageous intent on the part
+of his grandson, for whose manliness he was jealous, greatly served
+to quiet Duncan; and he consented at last to postpone all quittance,
+in the hope of Malcolm's having the opportunity of a righteous
+quarrel for proving himself no coward. His wrath gradually died
+away, until at last he begged his boy to take his pipes, that he
+might give him a lesson. Malcolm made the attempt, but found it
+impossible to fill the bag with his swollen and cut lips, and had
+to beg his grandfather to play to him instead. He gladly consented,
+and played until bedtime; when, having tucked him up, Malcolm
+went quietly to his own room, avoiding supper and the eyes of Mrs
+Courthope together. He fell asleep in a moment, and spent a night
+of perfect oblivion, dreamless of wizard lord or witch lady.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII: THE CUTTER
+
+
+Some days passed during which Malcolm contrived that no one should
+see him: he stole down to his grandfather's early in the morning,
+and returned to his own room at night. Duncan told the people
+about that he was not very well, but would be all better in a day
+or two. It was a time of jubilation to the bard, and he cheered his
+grandson's retirement with music, and with wild stories of highland
+lochs and moors, chanted or told.
+
+Malcolm's face was now much better, though the signs of the blow
+were still plain enough upon it, when a messenger came one afternoon
+to summon him to the marquis's presence.
+
+"Where have you been sulking all this time?" was his master's
+greeting.
+
+"I havena been sulkin', my lord," answered Malcolm. "Yer lordship
+tauld me to haud oot o' the gait till I was fit to be seen, an' no
+a sowl has set an ee upo' me till this verra moment 'at yer lordship
+has me in yer ain."
+
+"Where have you been then?"
+
+"I' my ain room at nicht, and doon at my gran'father's as lang's
+fowk was aboot--wi' a bit dauner (stroll) up the burn i' the
+mirk."
+
+"You couldn't encounter the shame of being seen with such a face
+--eh?"
+
+"It micht ha' been thoucht a disgrace to the tane or the tither o'
+'s, my lord--maybe to baith."
+
+"If you don't learn to curb that tongue of yours, it will bring
+you to worse."
+
+"My lord, I confessed my faut, and I pat up wi' the blow. But if
+it hadna been that I was i' the wrang--weel, things micht hae
+differt."
+
+"Hold your tongue, I tell you. You're an honest, good fellow, and
+ sorry I struck you. There!"
+
+"I thank yer lordship."
+
+"I sent for you because I've just heard from Aberdeen that the
+boat is on her way round. You must be ready to take charge of her
+the moment she arrives."
+
+"I wull be that, my lord. It doesna shuit me at a' to be sae lang
+upo' the solid:  like a cowt upon a toll ro'd."
+
+The next morning he got a telescope, and taking with him his dinner
+of bread and cheese, and a book in his pocket, went up to the Temple
+of the Winds, to look out for the boat. Every few minutes he swept
+the offing, but morning and afternoon passed, and she did not
+appear. The day's monotony was broken only by a call from Demon.
+Malcolm looked landwards, and spied his mistress below amongst the
+trees, but she never looked in his direction.
+
+He had just become aware of the first dusky breath of the twilight,
+when a tiny sloop appeared, rounding the Deid Heid, as they called
+the promontory which closed in the bay on the east. The sun was
+setting, red and large, on the other side of the Scaurnose, and
+filled her white sails with a rosy dye, as she came stealing round
+in a fair soft wind. The moon hung over her, thin, and pale, and
+ghostly, with hardly shine enough to show that it was indeed she,
+and not the forgotten scrap of a torn up cloud. As she passed the
+point and turned towards the harbour, the warm amethystine hue
+suddenly vanished from her sails, and she looked white and cold, as
+if the sight of the Death's Head had scared the blood out of her.
+"It's hersel'!" cried Malcolm in delight. "Aboot the size a muckle
+herrin' boat, but nae mair like ane than Lady Florimel 's like
+Meg Partan! It 'll be jist gran' to hae a cratur sae near leevin'
+to guide an' tak yer wull o'! I had nae idea she was gaein' to be
+onything like sae bonny. I'll no be fit to manage her in a squall
+though. I maun hae anither han'. An' I winna hae a laddie aither.
+It maun be a grown man, or I winna tak in han' to baud her abune
+the watter. I wull no. I s' hae Blue Peter himsel' gien I can get
+him. Eh! jist luik at her--wi' her bit gaff tappie set, and her
+jib an a', booin' an' booin', an' comin' on ye as gran' 's ony born
+leddy!"
+
+He shut up his telescope, ran down the hill, unlocked the private
+door at its foot, and in three or four minutes was waiting her on
+the harbour wall.
+
+She was a little cutter--and a lovely show to eyes capable of the
+harmonies of shape and motion. She came walking in, as the Partan,
+whom Malcolm found on the pierhead, remarked, "like a leddy closin'
+her parasol as she cam." Malcolm jumped on board, and the two men
+who had brought her round, gave up their charge.
+
+She was full decked, with a dainty little cabin. Her planks were
+almost white--there was not a board in her off which one might
+not, as the Partan expanded the common phrase, "ait his parritch,
+an' never fin' a mote in 's mou'." Her cordage was all so clean,
+her standing rigging so taut, everything so shipshape, that Malcolm
+was in raptures. If the burn had only been navigable so that he
+might have towed the graceful creature home and laid her up under
+the very walls of the House! It would have perfected the place in
+his eyes. He made her snug for the night, and went to report her
+arrival.
+
+Great was Lady Florimel's jubilation. She would have set out on
+a "coasting voyage," as she called it, the very next day, but her
+father listened to Malcolm.
+
+"Ye see, my lord," said Malcolm, "I maun ken a' aboot her afore
+I daur tak ye oot in her. An' I canna unnertak' to manage her my
+lane. Ye maun jist gie me anither man wi' me."
+
+"Get one," said the marquis.
+
+Early in the morning, therefore, Malcolm went to Scaurnose, and
+found Blue Peter amongst his nets. He could spare a day or two,
+and would join him. They returned together, got the cutter into
+the offing, and, with a westerly breeze, tried her every way. She
+answered her helm with readiness, rose as light as a bird, made a
+good board, and seemed every way a safe boat.
+
+"She's the bonniest craft ever lainched!" said Malcolm, ending a
+description of her behaviour and qualities rather too circumstantial
+for his master to follow.
+
+They were to make their first trip the next morning--eastward,
+if the wind should hold, landing at a certain ancient ruin on the
+coast, two or three miles from Portlossie.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII: THE TWO DOGS
+
+
+Lady Florimel's fancy was so full of the expected pleasure, that she
+woke soon after dawn. She rose and anxiously drew aside a curtain
+of her window. The day was one of God's odes written for men.
+Would that the days of our human autumn were as calmly grand, as
+gorgeously hopeful as the days that lead the aging year down to the
+grave of winter! If our white hairs were sunlit from behind like
+those radiance bordered clouds; if our air were as pure as this
+when it must be as cold; if the falling at last of longest cherished
+hopes did but, like that of the forest leaves, let in more of the
+sky, more of the infinite possibilities of the region of truth
+which is the matrix of fact; we should go marching down the hill
+of life like a battered but still bannered army on its way home.
+But alas! how often we rot, instead of march, towards the grave!
+"If he be not rotten before he die," said Hamlet's absolute grave
+digger.--If the year was dying around Lady Florimel, as she looked,
+like a deathless sun from a window of the skies, it was dying at
+least with dignity.
+
+The sun was still revelling in the gift of himself. A thin blue mist
+went up to greet him, like the first of the smoke from the altars
+of the morning. The fields lay yellow below; the rich colours of
+decay hung heavy on the woods, and seemed to clothe them as with
+the trappings of a majestic sorrow; but the spider webs sparkled
+with dew, and the gossamer films floated thick in the level sunbeams.
+It was a great time for the spiders, those visible Deaths of the
+insect race.
+
+The sun, like a householder leaving his house for a time, was burning
+up a thousand outworn things before he went; hence the smoke of
+the dying hearth of summer was going up to the heavens; but there
+was a heart of hope left, for, when farthest away, the sun is never
+gone, and the snow is the earth's blanket against the frost. But,
+alas, it was not Lady Florimel who thought these things! Looking
+over her shoulder, and seeing both what she can and what she cannot
+see, I am having a think to myself.
+
+"Which it is an offence to utter in the temple of Art!" cry the
+critics.
+
+Not against Art, I think: but if it be an offence to the worshipper
+of Art, let him keep silence before his goddess; for me, I am a
+sweeper of the floors in the temple of Life, and his goddess is my
+mare, and shall go in the dust cart; if I find a jewel as I sweep,
+I will fasten it on the curtains of the doors, nor heed if it should
+break the fall of a fold of the drapery.
+
+Below Lady Florimel's oriel window, under the tall bridge, the burn
+lay dark in a deep pool, with a slow revolving eddy, in which one
+leaf, attended by a streak of white froth, was performing solemn
+gyrations; away to the north the great sea was merry with waves
+and spotted with their broken crests; heaped against the horizon,
+it looked like a blue hill dotted all over with feeding sheep; but,
+today, she never thought why the waters were so busy--to what
+end they foamed and ran, flashing their laughter in the face of the
+sun: the mood of nature was in harmony with her own, and she felt
+no need to discover any higher import in its merriment. How could
+she, when she sought no higher import in her own--had not as
+yet once suspected that every human gladness--even to the most
+transient flicker of delight--is the reflex--from a potsherd
+it may be--but of an eternal sun of joy?--Stay, let me pick up
+the gem: every faintest glimmer, all that is not utter darkness,
+is from the shining face of the Father of Lights.--Not a breath
+stirred the ivy leaves about her window; but out there, on the
+wide blue, the breezes were frolicking; and in the harbour the new
+boat must be tugging to get free! She dressed in haste, called her
+staghound, and set out the nearest way, that is by the town gate,
+for the harbour. She must make acquaintance with her new plaything.
+
+Mrs Catanach in her nightcap looked from her upper window as she
+passed, like a great spider from the heart of its web, and nodded
+significantly after her, with a look and a smile such as might mean,
+that for all her good looks she might have the heartache some day.
+But she was to have the first herself, for that moment her ugly
+dog, now and always with the look of being fresh from an ash pit,
+rushed from somewhere, and laid hold of Lady Florimel's dress,
+frightening her so, that she gave a cry. Instantly her own dog,
+which had been loitering behind, came tearing up, five lengths at
+a bound, and descended like an angel of vengeance upon the offensive
+animal, which would have fled, but found it too late. Opening his
+huge jaws, Demon took him across the flanks, much larger than his
+own, as if he had been a rabbit. His howls of agony brought Mrs
+Catanach out in her petticoats. She flew at the hound, which Lady
+Florimel was in vain attempting to drag from the cur, and seized
+him by the throat.
+
+"Take care; he is dangerous!" cried the girl.
+
+Finding she had no power upon him, Mrs Catanach forsook him, and,
+in despairing fury, rushed at his mistress. Demon saw it with one
+flaming eye, left the cur--which, howling hideously, dragged his
+hind quarters after him into the house--and sprang at the woman.
+Then indeed was Lady Florimel terrified, for she knew the savage
+nature of the animal when roused. Truly, with his eyes on fire as
+now, his long fangs bared, the bristles on his back erect, and his
+moustache sticking straight out, he might well be believed, much
+as civilization might have done for him, a wolf after all! His
+mistress threw herself between them, and flung her arms tight round
+his neck.
+
+"Run, woman! Run for your life!" she shrieked. "I can't hold him
+long."
+
+Mrs Catanach fled, cowed by terror. Her huge legs bore her huge
+body, a tragicomic spectacle, across the street to her open door.
+She had hardly vanished, flinging it to behind her, when Demon
+broke from his mistress, and going at the door as if launched from
+a catapult, burst it open and disappeared also.
+
+Lady Florimel gave a shriek of horror, and darted after him.
+
+The same moment the sound of Duncan's pipes as he issued from
+the town gate, at which he always commenced instead of ending his
+reveille now, reached her, and bethinking herself of her inability
+to control the hound, she darted again from the cottage, and flew
+to meet him, crying aloud,--"Mr MacPhail! Duncan! Duncan! stop
+your pipes and come here directly."
+
+"And who may pe calling me?" asked Duncan, who had not thoroughly
+distinguished the voice through the near clamour of his instrument.
+
+She laid her hand trembling with apprehension on his arm, and began
+pulling him along.
+
+"It's me,--Lady Florimel," she said. "Come here directly. Demon
+has got into a house and is worrying a woman."
+
+"Cod haf mercy!" cried Duncan. "Take her pipes, my laty, for fear
+anything paad should happen to tem."
+
+She led him hurriedly to the door. But ere he had quite crossed
+the threshold he shivered and drew back.
+
+"Tis is an efil house," he said. "she'll not can co in." A great
+floundering racket was going on above, mingled with growls and
+shrieks, but there was no howling.
+
+"Call the dog then. He will mind you, perhaps," she cried--knowing
+what a slow business an argument with Duncan was--and flew to
+the stair.
+
+"Temon! Temon!" cried Duncan, with agitated voice. Whether the dog
+thought his friend was in trouble next, I cannot tell, but down he
+came that instant, with a single bound from the top of the stair,
+right over his mistress's head as she was running up, and leaping
+out to Duncan, laid a paw upon each of his shoulders, panting with
+out lolled tongue. But the piper staggered back, pushing the dog
+from him. "It is plood!" he cried; "ta efil woman's plood!"
+
+"Keep him out, Duncan dear," said Lady Florimel. "I will go and
+see. There! he'll be up again if you don't mind!"
+
+Very reluctant, yet obedient, the bard laid hold of the growling
+animal by the collar; and Lady Florimel was just turning to finish
+her ascent of the stair and see what dread thing had come to pass,
+when, to her great joy, she heard Malcolm's voice, calling from
+the farther end of the street--"Hey, daddy! What's happened 'at
+I dinna hear the pipes?"
+
+She rushed out, the pipes dangling from her hand, so that the drone
+trailed on the ground behind her.
+
+"Malcolm! Malcolm!" she cried; and he was by her side in scarcely
+more time than Demon would have taken.
+
+Hurriedly and rather incoherently, she told him what had taken
+place. He sprang up the stair, and she followed.
+
+In the front garret--with a dormer window looking down into the
+street--stood Mrs Catanach facing the door, with such a malignant
+rage in her countenance that it looked demoniacal. Her dog lay at
+her feet with his throat torn out.
+
+As soon as she saw Malcolm, she broke into a fury of vulgar
+imprecation--most of it quite outside the pale of artistic record.
+
+"Hoots! for shame, Mistress Catanach!" he cried, "Here's my leddy
+ahin' me, hearin' ilka word!"
+
+"Deil stap her lugs wi' brunstane! What but a curse wad she hae
+frae me? I sweir by God i s' gar her pey for this, or my name's no
+--" She stopped suddenly.
+
+"I thocht as muckle," said Malcolm with a keen look.
+
+"Ye'll think twise, ye deil's buckie, or ye think richt! Wha are
+ye to think? What sud my name be but Bawby Catanach? Ye're unco
+upsettin' sin' ye turned my leddy's flunky! Sorrow taik ye baith!
+My dawtit Beauty!--worriet by that hell tyke o' hers!"
+
+"Gien ye gang on like that, the markis 'll hae ye drummed oot o'
+the toon or twa days be ower," said Malcolm.
+
+"Wull he than?" she returned with a confident sneer, showing all the
+teeth she had left. "Ye'll be far hen wi' the markis, nae doobt!
+An' yon donnert auld deevil ye ca' yer gran'father 'ill be fain
+eneuch to be drummer, I'll sweir. Care 's my case!"
+
+"My leddy, she's ower ill tongued for you to hearken till,"
+said Malcolm, turning to Florimel who stood in the door white and
+trembling. "Jist gang doon, an' tell my gran'father to sen' the
+dog up. There's surely some gait o' garrin' her haud her tongue!"
+
+Mrs Catanach threw a terrified glance towards Lady Florimel.
+
+"Indeed I shall do nothing of the kind!" replied Florimel. "For
+shame!"
+
+"Hoots, my leddy!" returned Malcolm; "I only said it to try the
+effec' o' 't. It seems no that ill."
+
+"Ye son o' a deevil's soo!" cried the woman; "I s' hae amen's o'
+ye for this, gien I sud ro'st my ain hert to get it."
+
+"'Deed, but ye're duin that fine a'ready! That foul brute o' yours
+has gotten his arles (earnest) tu. I wonner what he thinks o sawmon
+troot noo!--Eh, mem?"
+
+"Have done, Malcolm," said Florimel. "I am ashamed of you. If the
+woman is not hurt, we have no business in her house."
+
+"Hear till her!" cried Mrs Catanach contemptuously. "The woman!"
+
+But Lady Florimel took no heed. She had already turned and was going
+down the stair. Malcolm followed in silence; nor did another word
+from Mrs Catanach overtake them.
+
+Arrived in the street, Florimel restored his pipes to Duncan
+--who, letting the dog go, at once proceeded to fill the bag--
+and, instead of continuing her way to the harbour, turned back,
+accompanied by Malcolm, Demon, and Lady Stronach's Strathspey.
+
+"What a horrible woman that is!" she said with a shudder.
+
+"Ay is she; but I doobt she wad be waur gien she didna brak oot
+that gait whiles," rejoined Malcolm.
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"It frichts fowk at her, an' maybe sometimes pits 't oot o' her
+pooer to du waur. Gien ever she seek to mak it up wi' ye, my leddy,
+I wad hae little to say till her, gien I was you."
+
+"What could I have to say to a low creature like that?"
+
+"Ye wadna ken what she micht be up till, or hoo she micht set aboot
+it, my leddy. I wad hae ye mistrust her a'thegither. My daddy has
+a fine moral nose for vermin, an' he canna bide her, though he
+never had a glimp o' the fause face o' her, an' in trowth never
+spak till her."
+
+"I will tell my father of her. A woman like that is not fit to live
+amongst civilized people."
+
+"Ye're richt there, my leddy; but she wad only gang some ither gait
+amo' the same. Of coorse ye maun tell yer father, but she's no fit
+for him to tak ony notice o'."
+
+As they sat at breakfast, Florimel did tell her father. His first
+emotion, however--at least the first he showed--was vexation
+with herself.
+
+"You must not be going out alone--and at such ridiculous hours,"
+he said. "I shall be compelled to get you a governess."
+
+"Really, papa," she returned, "I don't see the good of having
+a marquis for a father, if I can't go about as safe as one of the
+fisher children. And I might just as well be at school, if  not
+to do as I like."
+
+"What if the dog had turned on you!" he said.
+
+"If he dared!" exclaimed the girl, and her eyes flashed.
+
+Her father looked at her for a moment, said to himself--"There
+spoke a Colonsay!" and pursued the subject no further.
+
+When they passed Mrs Catanach's cottage an hour after, on their
+way to the harbour, they saw the blinds drawn down, as if a dead
+man lay within: according to after report, she had the brute already
+laid out like a human being, and sat by the bedside awaiting a
+coffin which she had ordered of Watty Witherspail.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX: COLONSAY CASTLE
+
+
+The day continued lovely, with a fine breeze. The whole sky and
+air and sea were alive--with moving clouds, with wind, with waves
+flashing in the sun. As they stepped on board amidst the little
+crowd gathered to see, Lady Florimel could hardly keep her delight
+within the bounds of so called propriety. It was all she could do
+to restrain herself from dancing on the little deck half swept by
+the tiller. The boat of a schooner which lay at the quay towed them
+out of the harbour. Then the creature spread her wings like a bird
+--mainsail and gaff topsail, staysail and jib--leaped away to
+leeward, and seemed actually to bound over the waves. Malcolm sat
+at the tiller, and Blue Peter watched the canvas.
+
+Lady Florimel turned out to be a good sailor, and her enjoyment was
+so contagious as even to tighten certain strings about her father's
+heart which had long been too slack to vibrate with any simple
+gladness. Her questions were incessant--first about the sails
+and rigging, then about the steering; but when Malcolm proceeded
+to explain how the water reacted on the rudder, she declined to
+trouble herself with that.
+
+"Let me steer first," she said, "and then tell me how things work."
+
+"That is whiles the best plan," said Malcolm. "Jist lay yer han'
+upo' the tiller, my leddy, an' luik oot at yon pint they ca' the
+Deid Heid yonner. Ye see, whan I turn the tiller this gait, her
+heid fa's aff frae the pint; an' whan I turn't this ither gait,
+her heid turns till 't again: haud her heid jist aboot a twa yairds
+like aff o' 't."
+
+Florimel was more delighted than ever when she felt her own hand
+ruling the cutter--so overjoyed indeed, that, instead of steering
+straight, she would keep playing tricks with the rudder--fretting
+the mouth of the sea palfrey, as it were. Every now and then Malcolm
+had to expostulate.
+
+"Noo, my leddy, caw canny. Dinna steer sae wull. Haud her steddy.
+--My lord, wad ye jist say a word to my leddy, or I'll be forced
+to tak the tiller frae her."
+
+But by and by she grew weary of the attention required, and, giving
+up the helm, began to seek the explanation of its influence, in a
+way that delighted Malcolm.
+
+"Ye'll mak a guid skipper some day," he said: "ye spier the richt
+questions, an' that's 'maist as guid 's kennin' the richt answers."
+
+At length she threw herself on the cushions Malcolm had brought
+for her, and, while her father smoked his cigar, gazed in silence
+at the shore. Here, instead of sands, low rocks, infinitively broken
+and jagged, filled all the tidal space--a region of ceaseless rush
+and shattered waters. High cliffs of gray and brown rock, orange
+and green with lichens here and there, and in summer crowned with
+golden furze, rose behind--untouched by the ordinary tide, but at
+high water lashed by the waves of a storm.
+
+Beyond the headland which they were fast nearing, the cliffs and
+the sea met at half tide.
+
+The moment they rounded it--
+
+"Luik there, my lord," cried Malcolm, "--there's Colonsay Castel,
+'at yer lordship gets yer name,  thinkin', an', ony gait, ane o'
+yer teetles frae. It maun be mony a hunner year sin' ever Colonsay
+baid intill 't!"
+
+Well might he say so! for they looked but saw nothing--only cliff
+beyond cliff rising from a white fringed shore. Not a broken tower,
+not a ragged battlement invaded the horizon!
+
+"There's nothing of the sort there!" said Lady Florimel.
+
+"Ye maunna luik for tooer or pinnacle, my leddy, for nane will
+ye see: their time's lang ower. But jist taik the sea face o' the
+scaur (cliff) i' yer ee, an' traivel alang 't oontil ye come till
+a bit 'at luiks like mason wark. It scarce rises abune the scaur
+in ony but ae pairt, an' there it 's but a feow feet o' a wa'."
+
+Following his direction, Lady Florimel soon found the ruin. The
+front of a projecting portion of the cliff was faced, from the
+very water's edge as it seemed, with mason work; while on its side,
+the masonry rested here and there upon jutting masses of the rock,
+serving as corbels or brackets, the surface of the rock itself
+completing the wall front. Above, grass grown heaps and mounds,
+and one isolated bit of wall pierced with a little window, like an
+empty eyesocket with no skull behind it, was all that was visible
+from the sea of the structure which had once risen lordly on the
+crest of the cliff.
+
+"It is poor for a ruin even!" said Lord Lossie.
+
+"But jist consider hoo auld the place is, my lord!--as auld as the
+time o' the sea rovin' Danes, they say. Maybe it 's aulder nor King
+Alfred! Ye maun regaird it only as a foondation; there's stanes eneuch
+lyin' aboot to shaw 'at there maun hae been a gran' supperstructur
+on 't ance. I some think it has been ance disconneckit frae the
+lan', an' jined on by a drawbrig. Mony a lump o' rock an' castel
+thegither has rowed doon the brae upon a' sides, an' the ruins may
+weel hae filled up the gully at last. It's a wonnerfu' auld place,
+my lord."
+
+"What would you do with it if it were yours, Malcolm?" asked Lady
+Florimel.
+
+"I wad spen' a my spare time patchin' 't up to gar 't stan' oot
+agane the wither. It's crum'let awa' a heap sin' I min'."
+
+"What would be the good of that? A rickle of old stones!" said the
+marquis.
+
+"It's a growth 'at there winna be mony mair like," returned Malcolm.
+"I wonner 'at yer lordship!"
+
+He was now steering for the foot of the cliff. As they approached,
+the ruin expanded and separated, grew more massy, and yet more
+detailed. Still it was a mere root clinging to the soil.
+
+"Suppose you were Lord Lossie, Malcolm, what would you do with it?"
+asked Florimel, seriously, but with fun in her eyes.
+
+"I wad win at the boddom o' 't first."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Ye'll see whan ye win in till 't. there's a heap o' voutit places
+inside yon blin' face. Du ye see yon wee bit squaur winnock? That
+lats the licht in till ane o' them. There maybe vouts aneath vouts,
+for them 'at ye can win intill 's half fu' o' yird an' stanes. I
+wad hae a' that cleart oot, an syne begin frae the verra foondation,
+diggin', an' patchin', an' buttressin', till I got it a' as soun'
+as a whunstane; an' whan I cam to the tap o' the rock, there the
+castel sud tak to growin' again; an' grow it sud, till there it
+stude, as near what it was as the wit an' the han' o' man cud set
+it."
+
+"That would ruin a tolerably rich man," said the marquis..
+
+"Ony gait it 's no the w'y fowk ruins themsel's nooadays, my lord.
+They'll pu' doon an auld hoose ony day to save themsel's blastin'
+poother. There's that gran' place they ca' Huntly Castel!--
+a suckin' bairn to this for age, but wi' wa's, they tell me, wad
+stan' for thoosan's o' years: wad ye believe 't? there's a sowlless
+chiel' o' a factor there diggin' park wa's an' a grainery oot o'
+'t, as gien 'twar a quarry o' blue stane! An' what 's ten times
+mair exterord'nar, there's the Duke o' Gordon jist lattin' the gype
+tak 's wull o' the hoose a' his grace's ain forbears! I wad maist
+as sune lat a man speyk ill o' my daddy!"
+
+"But this is past all rebuilding," said his lordship. "It would be
+barely possible to preserve the remains as they are."
+
+"It wad be ill to du, my lord, ohn set it up again. But jist think
+what a gran' place it wad be to bide in!"
+
+The marquis burst out laughing.
+
+"A grand place for gulls and kittiwakes and sea crows!" he said. "But
+where is it, pray, that a fisherman like you gets such extravagant
+notions?--How do you come to think of such things?"
+
+"Thoucht's free, my lord. Gien a thing be guid to think, what for
+sudna a fisher lad think it? I hae read a heap aboot auld castles
+an' sic like i' the history o' Scotlan', an' there's mony an auld
+tale an' ballant aboot them.--Jist luik there, my leddy: ye see
+yon awfu' hole i' the wa,' wi' the verra inside o' the hill, like,
+rushin' oot at it?--I cud tell ye a fearfu' tale aboot that same."
+
+"Do let us have it," said Florimel eagerly, setting herself to
+listen.
+
+"Better wait till we land," said the marquis lazily.
+
+"Ay, my lord; we're ower near the shore to begin a story.--Slack
+the mainsheet, Peter, an' stan' by the jib--doonhaul--Dinna
+rise, my leddy; she'll be o' the grun' in anither meenute."
+
+Almost immediately followed a slight grating noise, which grew
+loud, and before one could say her speed had slackened, the cutter
+rested on the pebbles, with the small waves of the just turned tide
+flowing against her quarter. Malcolm was overboard in a moment.
+
+"How the deuce are we to land here?" said the marquis.
+
+"Yes!" followed Florimel, half risen on her elbow, "how the deuce
+are we to land here?"
+
+"Hoot, my leddy!" said Malcolm, "sic words ill become yer bonny
+mou'."
+
+The marquis laughed.
+
+"I ask you how we are to get ashore?" said Florimel with grave
+dignity, though an imp was laughing in the shadows of her eyes.
+
+"I'll sune lat ye see that, my leddy," answered Malcolm; and
+leaning over the low bulwark he had her in his arms almost before
+she could utter an objection. Carrying her ashore like a child--
+indeed, to steady herself, she had put an arm round his shoulders
+--he set her down on the shingle, and turning in the act, left her
+as if she had been a burden of nets, and waded back to the boat.
+
+"And how, pray, am I to go?" asked the marquis. "Do you fancy you
+can carry me in that style?"
+
+"Ow na, my lord! that wadna be dignifeed for a man. Jist loup upo'
+my back."
+
+As he spoke he turned his broad shoulders, stooping.
+
+The marquis accepted the invitation, and rode ashore like a schoolboy,
+laughing merrily.
+
+They were in a little valley, open only to the sea, one boundary of
+which was the small promontory whereon the castle stood. The side
+of it next them, of stone and live rock combined, rose perpendicular
+from the beach to a great height; whence, to gain the summit, they
+had to go a little way back, and ascend by a winding path till they
+reached the approach to the castle from the landward side.
+
+"Noo, wad na this be a gran' place to bide at, my lord?" said
+Malcolm, as they reached the summit--the marquis breathless,
+Florimel fresh as a lark. "Jist see sic an outluik! The verra place
+for pirates like the auld Danes! Naething cud escape the sicht o'
+them here. Yon's the hills o' Sutherlan'. Ye see yon ane like a
+cairn? that's a great freen' to the fisher fowk to tell them whaur
+they are. Yon's the laich co'st o' Caithness. An' yonner's the
+north pole, only ye canna see sae far. Jist think, my lord, hoo
+gran' wad be the blusterin' blap o' the win' aboot the turrets,
+as ye stude at yer window on a winter's day, luikin oot ower the
+gurly twist o' the watters, the air fu' o' flichterin snaw, the
+cloods a mile thick abune yer heid, an' no a leevin cratur but yer
+ain fowk nearer nor the fairm toon ower the broo yonner!"
+
+"I don't see anything very attractive in your description," said
+his lordship. "And where," he added, looking around him, "would be
+the garden?"
+
+"What cud ye want wi' a gairden, an' the sea oot afore ye there?
+The sea's bonnier than ony gairden. A gairden's maist aye the same,
+or it changes sae slow, wi' the ae flooer gaein' in, an' the ither
+flooer comin' oot, 'at ye maist dinna nottice the odds. But the
+sea's never twa days the same. Even lauchin' she never lauchs twise
+wi' the same face, an' whan she sulks, she has a hunner w'ys o'
+sulkin'."
+
+"And how would you get a carriage up here?" said the marquis.
+
+"Fine that, my lord. There's a ro'd up as far's yon neuk. An' for
+this broo, I wad clear awa the lowse stanes, an' lat the nait'ral
+gerse grow sweet an' fine, an' turn a lot o' bonny heelan' sheep
+on till't. I wad keep yon ae bit o' whuns, for though they're rouch
+i' the leaf; they blaw sae gowden. Syne I wad gether a' the bits
+o' drains frae a' sides, till I had a bonny stream o' watter aff
+o' the sweet corn lan', rowin' doon here whaur we stan', an' ower
+to the castel itsel', an' throu' coort an' kitchie, gurglin' an'
+rinnin', an' syne oot again an' doon the face o' the scaur, splashin'
+an' loupin' like mad. I wad lea' a' the lave to Natur' hersel'.
+It wad be a gran' place, my lord! An' whan ye was tired o' 't, ye
+cud jist rin awa' to Lossie Hoose, an' hide ye i' the how there for
+a cheenge. I wad like fine to hae the sortin' o' 't for yer lordship."
+
+"I daresay!" said the marquis.
+
+"Let's find a nice place for our luncheon, papa, and then we can
+sit down and hear Malcolm's story," said Florimel.
+
+"Dinna ye think, my lord, it wad be better to get the baskets up
+first?" interposed Malcolm.
+
+"Yes, I think so. Wilson can help you."
+
+"Na, my lord; he canna lea' the cutter. The tide's risin, an' she's
+ower near the rocks."
+
+"Well, well; we shan't want lunch for an hour yet, so you can take
+your time."
+
+"But ye maun taik kent, my lord, hoo ye gang amo' the ruins.
+There's awkward kin' o' holes aboot thae vouts, an' jist whaur ye
+think there's nane. I dinna a'thegither like yer gaein' wantin'
+me."
+
+"Nonsense! Go along," said the marquis.
+
+"But  no jokin'," persisted Malcolm.
+
+"Yes, yes; we'll be careful," returned his master impatiently, and
+Malcolm ran down the hill, but not altogether satisfied with the
+assurance.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL: THE DEIL'S WINNOCK
+
+
+Florimel was disappointed, for she longed to hear Malcolm's tale.
+But amid such surroundings it was not so very difficult to wait.
+They set out to have a peep at the ruins, and choose a place for
+luncheon.
+
+From the point where they stood, looking seawards, the ground sunk
+to the narrow isthmus supposed by Malcolm to fill a cleft formerly
+crossed by a drawbridge, and, beyond it, rose again to the grassy
+mounds in which lay so many of the old bones of the ruined carcass.
+
+Passing along the isthmus, where on one side was a steep descent to
+the shore of the little bay, and on the other the live rock hewn
+away to wall, shining and sparkling with crystals of a clear irony
+brown, they next clambered up a rude ascent of solid rock, and
+so reached what had been the centre of the seaward portion of the
+castle. Here they came suddenly upon a small hole at their feet,
+going right down. Florimel knelt, and peeping in, saw the remains
+of a small spiral stair. The opening seemed large enough to let
+her through, and, gathering her garments tight about her, she was
+halfway buried in the earth before her father, whose attention had
+been drawn elsewhere, saw what she was about. He thought she had
+fallen in, but her merry laugh reassured him, and ere he could
+reach her, she had screwed herself out of sight. He followed her in
+some anxiety, out, after a short descent, rejoined her in a small
+vaulted chamber, where she stood looking from the little square
+window Malcolm had pointed out to them as they neared the shore.
+The bare walls around them were of brown stone, wet with the drip
+of rains, and full of holes where the mortar had yielded and stones
+had fallen out. Indeed the mortar had all but vanished; the walls
+stood and the vaults hung chiefly by their own weight. By breaches
+in the walls, where once might have been doors, Florimel passed
+from one chamber to another and another, each dark, brown, vaulted,
+damp, and weather eaten, while her father stood at the little
+window she had left, listlessly watching the two men on the beach
+far below landing the lunch, and the rippled sea, and the cutter
+rising and falling with every wave of the flowing tide.
+
+At length Florimel found herself on the upper end of a steep sloping
+ridge of hard, smooth earth, lying along the side of one chamber,
+and leading across to yet another beyond, which, unlike the rest,
+was full of light. The passion of exploration being by this time
+thoroughly roused in her, she descended the slope, half sliding, half
+creeping. When she thus reached the hole into the bright chamber,
+she almost sickened with horror, for the slope went off steeper,
+till it rushed, as it were, out of a huge gap in the wall of the
+castle, laying bare the void of space, and the gleam of the sea
+at a frightful depth below: if she had gone one foot further, she
+could not have saved herself from sliding out of the gap. It was
+the very breach Malcolm had pointed out to them from below, and
+concerning which he had promised them the terrible tale. She gave
+a shriek of terror, and laid hold of the broken wall. To heighten
+her dismay to the limit of mortal endurance, she found at the very
+first effort, partly, no doubt, from the paralysis of fear, that
+it was impossible to reascend; and there she lay on the verge of
+the steeper slope, her head and shoulders in the inner of the two
+chambers, and the rest of her body in the outer, with the hideous
+vacancy staring at her. In a few moments it had fascinated her so
+that she dared not close her eyes lest it should leap upon her.
+The wonder was that she did not lose her consciousness, and fall
+at once to the bottom of the cliff.
+
+Her cry brought her father in terror to the top of the slope.
+
+"Are you hurt, child?" he cried, not seeing the danger she was in.
+
+"It's so steep, I can't get up again," she said faintly.
+
+"I'll soon get you up," he returned cheerily, and began to descend.
+
+"Oh, papa!" she cried, "don't come a step nearer. If you should
+slip, we should go to the bottom of the rock together. Indeed,
+indeed, there is great danger! Do run for Malcolm."
+
+Thoroughly alarmed, yet mastering the signs of his fear, he enjoined
+her to keep perfectly still while he was gone, and hurried to the
+little window. Thence he shouted to the men below, but in vain,
+for the wind prevented his voice from reaching them. He rushed from
+the vaults, and began to descend at the first practicable spot he
+could find, shouting as he went.
+
+The sound of his voice cheered Florimel a little, as she lay
+forsaken in her misery. Her whole effort now was to keep herself
+from fainting, and for this end, to abstract her mind from the
+terrors of her situation: in this she was aided by a new shock,
+which, had her position been a less critical one, would itself have
+caused her a deadly dismay. A curious little sound came to her,
+apparently from somewhere in the dusky chamber in which her head
+lay. She fancied it made by some little animal, and thought of the
+wild cats and otters of which Malcolm had spoken as haunting the
+caves; but, while the new fear mitigated the former, the greater
+fear subdued the less. It came a little louder, then again a little
+louder, growing like a hurried whisper, but without seeming to
+approach her. Louder still it grew, and yet was but an inarticulate
+whispering. Then it began to divide into some resemblance of
+articulate sounds. Presently, to her utter astonishment, she heard
+herself called by name.
+
+"Lady Florimel! Lady Florimel!" said the sound plainly enough.
+
+"Who's there?" she faltered, with her heart in her throat hardly
+knowing whether she spoke or not.
+
+"There's nobody here," answered the voice. " in my own bedroom
+at home, where your dog killed mine."
+
+It was the voice of Mrs Catanach, but both words and tone were
+almost English.
+
+Anger, and the sense of a human presence, although an evil one,
+restored Lady Florimel's speech.
+
+"How dare you talk such nonsense?" she said.
+
+"Don't anger me again," returned the voice. "I tell you the truth.
+ sorry I spoke to your ladyship as I did this morning. It was
+the sight of my poor dog that drove me mad."
+
+"I couldn't help it. I tried to keep mine off him, as you know."
+
+"I do know it, my lady, and that's why I beg your pardon."
+
+"Then there's nothing more to be said."
+
+"Yes, there is, my lady: I want to make you some amends. I know
+more than most people, and I know a secret that some would give
+their ears for. Will you trust me?"
+
+"I will hear what you've got to say."
+
+"Well, I don't care whether you believe me or not: I shall tell
+you nothing but the truth. What do you think of Malcolm MacPhail,
+my lady?"
+
+"What do you mean by asking me such a question?"
+
+"Only to tell you that by birth he is a gentleman, and comes of an
+old family."
+
+"But why do you tell me?" said Florimel. "What have I to do with
+it?"
+
+"Nothing, my lady--or himself either. I hold the handle of the
+business. But you needn't think it 's from any favour for him. I
+don't care what comes of him. There's no love lost between him and
+me. You heard yourself this very day, how he abused both me and my
+poor dog who is now lying dead on the bed beside me!"
+
+"You don't expect me to believe such nonsense as that!" said Lady
+Florimel.
+
+There was no reply. The voice had departed; and the terrors of her
+position returned with gathered force in the desolation of redoubled
+silence that closes around an unanswered question. A trembling
+seized her, and she could hardly persuade herself that she was not
+slipping by slow inches down the incline.
+
+Minutes that seemed hours passed. At length she heard feet and
+voices, and presently her father called her name, but she was too
+agitated to reply except with a moan. A voice she was yet more
+glad to hear followed--the voice of Malcolm, ringing confident
+and clear.
+
+"Haud awa', my lord," it said, "an' lat me come at her."
+
+"You're not going down so!" said the marquis angrily. "You'll slip
+to a certainty, and send her to the bottom."
+
+"My lord," returned Malcolm, "I ken what  aboot, an' ye dinna.
+I beg 'at ye'll haud ootby, an' no upset the lassie, for something
+maun depen' upon hersel'. Jist gang awa' back into that ither vout,
+my lord. I insist upo' 't."
+
+His lordship obeyed, and Malcolm, who had been pulling off his
+boots as he spoke, now addressed Mair.
+
+"Here, Peter!" he said, "haud on to the tail o' that rope like grim
+deith.--Na, I dinna want it roon' me; it 's to gang roon' her.
+But dinna ye haul, for it micht hurt her, an' she'll lippen to me
+and come up o' hersel."
+
+
+
+"Dinna be feart, my bonny leddy: there's nae danger--no ae grain.
+ comin'."
+
+
+With the rope in his hand, he walked down the incline, and kneeling
+by Florimel, close to the broken wall, proceeded to pass the rope
+under and round her waist, talking to her, as he did so, in the
+tone of one encouraging a child.
+
+"Noo, my leddy! Noo, my bonny leddy! Ae meenute, an' ye're as safe's
+gien ye lay i' yer minnie's lap!"
+
+"I daren't get up, Malcolm! I daren't turn my back to it! I shall
+drop right down into it if I do!" she faltered, beginning to sob.
+
+"Nae fear o' that! There! ye canna fa' noo, for Blue Peter has the
+other en', and Peter's as strong 's twa pownies.  gaein to tak
+aff yer shune neist."
+
+So saying, he lowered himself a little through the breach, holding
+on by the broken wall with one hand, while he gently removed her
+sandal shoes with the other. Drawing himself up again, he rose to
+his feet, and taking her hand, said,
+
+"Noo, my leddy, tak a gude grip o' my han', an' as I lift ye, gie
+a scram'le wi' yer twa bit feet, an' as sune's ye fin' them aneth
+ye, jist gang up as gien ye war clim'in' a gey stey brae (rather
+steep ascent). Ye cudna fa' gien ye tried yer warst."
+
+At the grasp of his strong hand the girl felt a great gush
+of confidence rise in her heart; she did exactly as he told her,
+scrambled to her feet, and walked up the slippery way without
+one slide, holding fast by Malcolm's hand, while Joseph kept just
+feeling her waist with the loop of the rope as he drew it in. When
+she reached the top, she fell, almost fainting, into her father's
+arms; but was recalled to herself by an exclamation from Blue Peter:
+just as Malcolm relinquished her hand, his foot slipped. But he
+slid down the side of the mound only some six or seven feet to the
+bottom of the chamber, whence his voice came cheerily, saying he
+would be with them in a moment. When, however, ascending by another
+way, he rejoined them, they were shocked to see blood pouring
+from his foot: he had lighted amongst broken glass, and had felt
+a sting, but only now was aware that the cut was a serious one. He
+made little of it, however, bound it up, and, as the marquis would
+not now hear of bringing the luncheon to the top, having, he said,
+had more than enough of the place, limped painfully after them down
+to the shore.
+
+Knowing whither they were bound, and even better acquainted with
+the place than Malcolm himself; Mrs Catanach, the moment she had
+drawn down her blinds in mourning for her dog, had put her breakfast
+in her pocket, and set out from her back door, contriving mischief
+on her way. Arrived at the castle, she waited a long time before
+they made their appearance, but was rewarded for her patience, as
+she said to herself; by the luck which had so wonderfully seconded
+her cunning. From a broken loophole in the foundation of a round
+tower, she now watched them go down the hill. The moment they
+were out of sight, she crept like a fox from his earth, and having
+actually crawled beyond danger of discovery, hurried away inland,
+to reach Portlossie by footpaths and byways, and there show herself
+on her own doorstep.
+
+The woman's consuming ambition was to possess power over others
+--power to hurt them if she chose--power to pull hidden strings
+fastened to their hearts or consciences or history or foibles or
+crimes, and so reduce them, in her knowledge, if not in theirs, to
+the condition of being, more or less, her slaves. Hence she pounced
+upon a secret as one would on a diamond in the dust, any fact even
+was precious, for it might be allied to some secret--might, in
+combination with other facts, become potent. How far this vice may
+have had its origin in the fact that she had secrets of her own,
+might be an interesting question.
+
+As to the mysterious communication she had made to her, Lady Florimel
+was not able to turn her mind to it--nor indeed for some time was
+she able to think of anything.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI: THE CLOUDED SAPPHIRES
+
+
+Before they reached the bottom of the hill, however, Florimel had
+recovered her spirits a little, and had even attempted a laugh at
+the ridiculousness of her late situation; but she continued very
+pale. They sat down beside the baskets--on some great stones,
+fallen from the building above. Because of his foot, they would not
+allow Malcolm to serve them, but told Mair and him to have their
+dinner near, and called the former when they wanted anything.
+
+Lady Florimel revived still more after she had had a morsel of
+partridge and a glass of wine, but every now and then she shuddered:
+evidently she was haunted by the terror of her late position, and,
+with the gladness of a discoverer, the marquis bethought himself of
+Malcolm's promised tale, as a means of turning her thoughts aside
+from it. As soon, therefore, as they had finished their meal he
+called Malcolm, and told him they wanted his story.
+
+"It's some fearsome," said Malcolm, looking anxiously at the pale
+face of Lady Florimel.
+
+"Nonsense!" returned the marquis; for he thought, and perhaps
+rightly, that if such it would only serve his purpose the better.
+
+"I wad raither tell 't i' the gloamin' roon' a winter fire," said
+Malcolm, with another anxious look at Lady Florimel.
+
+"Do go on," she said. "I want so much to hear it!"
+
+"Go on," said the marquis; and Malcolm, seating himself near them,
+began.
+
+I need not again tell my reader that he may take a short cut if he
+pleases.
+
+"There was ance a great nobleman--like yersel', my lord, only no
+sae douce--an' he had a great followin', and was thoucht muckle
+o' in a' the country, frae John o' Groat's to the Mull o' Gallowa'.
+But he was terrible prood, an' thoucht naebody was to compare wi'
+him, nor onything 'at onybody had, to compare wi' onything 'at he
+had. His horse war aye swifter, an' his kye aye better milkers nor
+ither fowk's; there war nae deer sae big nor had sic muckle horns
+as the reid deer on his heelan' hills; nae gillies sae strang's
+his gillies; and nae castles sae weel biggit or sae auld as his!
+It may ha' been a' verra true for onything I ken, or onything the
+story says to the contrar'; but it wasna heumble or Christian-like
+o' him to be aye at it, ower an' ower, aye gloryin'--as gien he
+had a'thing sae by ord'nar' 'cause he was by ord'nar' himsel', an'
+they a' cam till him by the verra natur' o' things. There was but
+ae thing in which he was na fawvoured, and that was, that he had
+nae son to tak up what he left. But it maittered the less, that
+the teetle as weel's the lan's, wad, as the tale tells, gang a'
+the same till a lass bairn--an' a lass bairn he had."
+
+"That is the case in the Lossie family," said the marquis.
+
+"That's hoo I hae hard the tale, my lord; but I wad be sorry sud
+a' it conteens meet wi' like corroboration.--As I say, a dochter
+there was, an' gien a' was surpassin', she was surpassin' a'. The
+faimily piper, or sennachy, as they ca'd him--I wadna wonner, my
+lord, gien thae gran' pipes yer boonty gae my gran'father, had been
+his!--he said in ane o' his sangs, 'at the sun blinkit whanever
+she shawed hersel' at the hoose door. I s' warran' ae thing--'at
+a' the lads blinkit whan she luikit at them, gien sae be she cud
+ever be said to condescen' sae far as to luik at ony; for gien
+ever she set ee upo' ane, she never loot it rist: her ee aye jist
+slippit ower a face as gien the face micht or micht not be there
+--she didna ken or care. A'body said she had sic a hauchty leuk
+as was never seen on human face afore; an' for freen'ly luik, she
+had nane for leevin' cratur, 'cep' it was her ain father, or her
+ain horse 'at she rade upo'. Her mither was deid.
+
+"Her father wad fain hae seen her merriet afore he dee'd, but the
+pride he had gien her was like to be the en' o' a', for she coontit
+it naething less than a disgrace to pairt wi' maiden leeberty.
+'There's no man,' she wad say, whan her father wad be pressin' upo'
+the subjec',--'there's no mortal man, but yersel', worth the turn
+o' my ee.' An' the father, puir man, was ower weel pleased wi' the
+flattery to be sae angry wi' her as he wad fain hae luikit. Sae
+time gaed on, till frae a bonny lassie she had grown a gran' leddy,
+an' cud win up the hill nae forder, but bude to gang doon o' the
+ither side; an' her father was jist near han' daft wi' anxiety to
+see her wad. But no! never ane wad she hearken till.
+
+"At last there cam to the hoose--that's Colonsay Castel, up there
+--ae day, a yoong man frae Norrawa', the son o' a great nobleman
+o' that country; an' wi' him she was some ta'en. He was a fine
+man to leuk at, an' he pat them a' to shame at onything that nott
+stren'th or skeel. But he was as heumble as he was fit, an' never
+teuk ony credit till himsel' for onything 'at he did or was; an'
+this she was ill pleased wi', though she cudna help likin' him,
+an' made nae banes o' lattin' him see 'at he wasna a'thegither a
+scunner till her.
+
+"Weel, ae mornin', verra ear', she gaed oot intill her gairden,
+an luikit ower the hedge; an' what sud she see but this same yoong
+nobleman tak the bairn frae a puir traivellin' body, help her ower
+a dyke, and gie her her bairn again! He was at her ain side in
+anither meenute, but he was jist that meenute ahint his tryst, an'
+she was in a cauld rage at him. He tried to turn her hert, sayin'
+--wad she hae had him no help the puir thing ower the dyke, her
+bairnie bein' but a fortnicht auld, an' hersel' unco weak-like? but
+my leddy made a mou' as gien she was scunnert to hear sic things
+made mention o'. An' was she to stan' luikin' ower the hedge, an'
+him convoyin' a beggar wife an' her brat! An' syne to come to her
+ohn ever washen his han's! 'Hoot, my leddy,' says he, 'the puir
+thing was a human cratur!'--'Gien she had been a God's angel,'
+says she, 'ye had no richt to keep me waitin'.'--'Gien she had
+been an angel,' says he, 'there wad hae been little occasion, but
+the wuman stude in want o' help!'--'Gien 't had been to save her
+life, ye sudna hae keepit me waitin',' says she. The lad was scaret
+at that, as weel he micht, an' takin' aff 's bannet, he lowtit
+laich, an' left her. But this didna shuit my leddy; she wasna to
+be left afore she said gang! sae she cried him back, an' he cam,
+bannet in han'; an' she leuch, an' made as gien she had been but
+tryin' the smeddum o' 'im, an' thoucht him a true k-nicht. The
+puir fallow pluckit up at this, an' doon he fell upo's knees, an'
+oot wi' a' 'at was in 's hert,--hoo 'at he lo'ed her mair nor
+tongue cud tell, an' gien she wad hae him, he wad be her slave for
+ever.
+
+"'Ye s' be that,' says she, an' leuch him to scorn. 'Gang efter
+yer beggar wife,' she says; ' sick o' ye.'
+
+"He rase, an' teuk up 's bannet, an' loupit the hedge, an' gae a
+blast upo' 's horn, an' gethered his men, an' steppit aboord his
+boat, ower by Puffie Heid yonner, an' awa to Norrowa' ower the
+faem, 'an was never hard tell o' in Scotlan' again. An' the leddy
+was hauchtier, and cairried her heid heicher nor ever--maybe
+to hide a scaum (slight mark of burning) she had taen, for a' her
+pride.
+
+"Sae things gaed on as afore, till at len'th the tide o' her time
+was weel past the turn, an' a streak o' the snaw in her coal black
+hair. For, as the auld sang says,
+
+Her hair was like the craw,
+An' her ble was like the snaw,
+An' her bow bendit lip
+Was like the rose hip,
+An' her ee was like the licht'nin',
+Glorious an' fricht'nin'.
+But a' that wad sune be ower!
+
+"Aboot this time, ae day i' the gloamin', there cam on sic an awfu'
+storm, 'at the fowk o' the castel war frichtit 'maist oot o' their
+wits. The licht'nin' cam oot o' the yerd, an' no frae the lift
+at a'; the win' roared as gien 't had been an incarnat rage; the
+thunner rattlet an' crackit, as gien the mune an' a' the stars had
+been made kettledrums o' for the occasion; but never a drap o'
+rain or a stane o' hail fell; naething brak oot but blue licht an'
+roarin' win'. But the strangest thing was, that the sea lay a' the
+time as oonconcerned as a sleepin' bairn; the win' got nae mair grip
+o' 't nor gien a' the angels had been poorin' ile oot o' widows'
+cruses upo' 't; the verra tide came up quaieter nor ord'nar; and
+the fowk war sair perplext as weel's frichtit.
+
+"Jist as the clock o' the castel chappit the deid o' the nicht,
+the clamour o' v'ices was hard throu' the thunner an' the win,' an'
+the warder--luikin' doon frae the heich bartizan o' the muckle
+tooer, saw i' the fire flauchts, a company o' riders appro'chin'
+the castel, a' upo' gran' horses, he said, that sprang this gait
+an' that, an shot fire frae their een. At the drawbrig they blew
+a horn 'at rowtit like a' the bulls o' Bashan, an' whan the warder
+challencht them, claimt hoose room for the nicht. Naebody had ever
+hard o' the place they cam frae; it was sae far awa 'at as sane 's
+a body hard the name o' 't, he forgot it again; but their beasts
+war as fresh an' as fu' o' smeddum as I tell ye, an' no a hair o'
+ane o' them turnt. There was jist a de'il's dizzen o' them an whaurever
+ye began to count them, the thirteent had aye a reid baird.
+
+"Whan the news was taen to the markis--the yerl, I sud say--
+he gae orders to lat them in at ance; for whatever fau'ts he had,
+naither fear nor hainin' (penuriousness) was amang them. Sae in
+they cam, clatterin' ower the drawbrig, 'at gaed up an' down aneth
+them as gien it wad hae cast them.
+
+"Richt fremt (strange) fowk they luikit whan they cam intill the
+coortyaird--a' spanglet wi' bonny bricht stanes o' a' colours.
+They war like nae fowk 'at ever the yerl had seen, an' he had been
+to Jeroozlem in 's day, an' had fouchten wi' the Saracenes. But
+they war coorteous men an' weel bred--an' maistly weel faured tu
+--ilk ane luikin' a lord's son at the least. They had na a single
+servin' man wi' them, an' wad alloo nane o' the fowk aboot the place
+to lay han' upo' their beasts; an' ilk ane as he said na, wad gie
+the stallion aneth him a daig wi' 's spurs, or a kick 'i the ribs,
+gien he was aff o' 's back, wi' the steel tae o' his bute; an' the
+brute wad lay his lugs i' the how o' 's neck, an' turn his heid
+asklent, wi' ae white ee gleyin' oot o' 't, an' lift a hin' leg wi'
+the glintin' shue turnt back, an' luik like Sawtan himsel' whan he
+daurna.
+
+"Weel, my lord an' my leddy war sittin' i' the muckle ha', for
+they cudna gang to their beds in sic a byous storm, whan him 'at
+was the chief o' them was ushered in by the seneschal, that's the
+steward, like, booin' afore him, an' ca'in' him the Prence, an' nae
+mair, for he cudna min' the name o' 's place lang eneuch to say 't
+ower again.
+
+"An' sae a prence he was! an', forbye that, jist a man by himsel'
+to luik at!--i' the prime o' life, maybe, but no freely i' the
+first o' 't, for he had the luik as gien he had had a hard time o'
+'t, an' had a white streak an' a craw's fit here and there--the
+liklier to please my leddy, wha lookit doon upo' a'body yoonger
+nor hersel'. He hae a commandin', maybe some owerbeirin' luik--
+ane at a man micht hae birstled up at, but a leddy like my leddy
+wad welcome as worth bringin' doon. He was dressed as never man
+had appears in Scotlan' afore--glorious withoot--no like the
+leddy i' the Psalms--for yer ee cud licht nowhaur but there was
+the glitter o' a stane, sae 'at he flashed a' ower, ilka motion
+he made. He cairret a short swoord at his side--no muckle langer
+nor my daddy's dirk, as gien he never foucht but at closs quarters
+--the whilk had three sapphires--blue stanes, they tell me--an
+muckle anes, lowin' i' the sheath o' 't, an' a muckler ane still i'
+the heft; only they war some drumly (clouded), the leddy thoucht,
+bein' a jeedge o' hingars at lugs (earrings) an' sic vainities.
+
+"That may be 's it may, but in cam the prence, wi' a laich boo, an'
+a gran upstrauchtin' again; an' though, as I say, he was flashin'
+a' ower, his mainner was quaiet as the munelicht,--jist grace
+itsel'. He profest himsel unco' indebtit for the shelter accordit
+him; an' his een aye soucht the leddy's, an' his admiration o'
+her was plain in ilka luik an' gestur', an' though his words were
+feow, they a' meant mair nor they said. Afore his supper cam in,
+her hert was at his wull.
+
+"They say that whan a wuman's late o' fa'in' in love--ye'll
+ken my lord--I ken naething aboot it--it 's the mair likly to
+be an oonrizzonin' an ooncontrollable fancy; in sic maitters it
+seems wisdom comesna wi' gray hairs: within ae hoor the leddy was
+enamoured o' the stranger in a fearfu' w'y. She poored oot his wine
+till him wi' her ane han'; an' the moment he put the glaiss till
+'s lips, the win' fell an' the lichtnin' devallt (ceased). She set
+hersel' to put questions till him, sic as she thoucht he wad like
+to answer--a' aboot himsel' an' what he had come throu'; an' sic
+stories as he tellt! She atten't till him as she had never dune to
+guest afore, an' her father saw 'at she was sair taen wi' the man.
+But he wasna a'thegither sae weel pleased, for there was something
+aboot him--he cudna say what--'at garred him grue (shudder). He
+wasna a man to hae fancies, or stan' upo' freits, but he cudna help
+the creep that gaed doon his backbane ilka time his ee encoontert
+that o' the prence--it was aye sic a strange luik the prence cuist
+upon him--a luik as gien him an' the yerl had been a'ready ower
+weel acquant, though the yerl cudna min' 'at ever he had set ee
+upo' him. A' the time, hooever, he had a kin' o' suspicion 'at they
+bude to be auld acquantances, an' sair he soucht to mak him oot,
+but the prence wad never lat a body get a glimp o' his een 'cep'
+the body he was speykin' till--that is gien he cud help it, for
+the yerl did get twa or three glimps o' them as he spak till 's
+dauchter; an' he declaret efterhin to the king's commissioner, that
+a pale blue kin' o' a licht cam frae them, the whilk the body he
+was conversin' wi', an' luikin' straucht at, never saw.
+
+"Weel, the short and the lang o' 't that nicht was, that they gaed
+a' to their beds.
+
+"I' the mornin', whan the markis--the yerl, I sud say--an' his
+dochter cam doon the stair, the haill menyie (company) was awa.
+Never a horse or horse was i' the stable, but the yerl's ain beasts
+--no ae hair left ahin' to shaw that they had been there! an' i'
+the chaumers allotted to their riders, never a pair o' sheets had
+been sleepit in.
+
+"The yerl an my leddy sat doon to brak their fast--no freely i'
+the same humour, the twa o' them, as ye may weel believe. Whan they
+war aboot half throu', wha sud come stridin' in, some dour an' ill
+pleased like, but the prence himsel'! Baith yerl an' leddy startit
+up: 'at they sud hae sitten doon till a meal ohn even adverteest
+their veesitor that sic was their purpose! They made muckle adu
+wi' apologies an' explanations, but the prence aye booed an' booed,
+an' said sae little, that they thocht him mortal angert, the whilk
+was a great vex to my leddy, ye may be sure. He had a withert like
+luik, an' the verra diamonds in 's claes war douf like. A'thegither
+he had a brunt oot kin' o' aissy (ashy) leuk.
+
+"At len'th the butler cam in, an' the prence signed till him, an'
+he gaed near, an' the prence drew him doon, an' toot mootit in 's
+lug--an' his breath, the auld man said, was like the grave: he
+hadna had 's mornin', he said, an' tell't him to put the whusky
+upo' the table. The butler did as he was tauld, an' set doon the
+decanter, an' a glaiss aside it; but the prence bannt him jist
+fearfu', an' ordert him to tak awa that playock, and fess a tum'ler.
+
+" thinkin', my lord, that maun be a modern touch," remarked
+Malcolm here, interrupting himself: "there wasna glaiss i' thae
+times--was there?"
+
+"What do I know!" said the marquis. "Go on with your story."
+
+"But there's mair intill 't than that," persisted Malcolm. "I
+doobt gien there was ony whusky i' thae times aither; for I hard a
+gentleman say the ither day 'at hoo he had tastit the first whusky
+'at was ever distillt in Scotlan', an' horrible stuff it was, he
+said, though it was 'maist as auld as the forty-five."
+
+"Confound your long wind! Go on," said the marquis peremptorily.
+
+"We s' ca' 't whusky, than, ony gait," said Malcolm, and resumed.
+
+"The butler did again as he was bidden, an' fiess (fetched) a tum'ler,
+or mair likely a siller cup, an' the prence took the decanter, or
+what it micht be, an' filled it to the verra brim. The butler's een
+'maist startit frae 's heid, but naebody said naething. He liftit
+it, greedy like, an' drank aff the whusky as gien 't had been watter.
+'That's middlin',' he said, as he set it o' the table again. They
+luikit to see him fa' doon deid, but in place o' that he begoud to
+gether himsel' a bit, an' says he, 'We brew the same drink i' my
+country, but a wee mair pooerfu'.' Syne he askit for a slice o'
+boar ham an' a raw aipple'; an' that was a' he ate. But he took
+anither waucht (large draught) o' the whusky, an' his een grew
+brichter, an' the stanes aboot him began to flash again; an' my
+leddy admired him the mair, that what wad hae felled ony ither man
+ony waukened him up a bit. An' syne he telled them hoo, laith to
+be fashous, he had gi'en orders till 's menyie to be all afore the
+mornin' brak, an' wait at the neist cheenge hoose till he jined
+them. 'Whaur,' said the leddy, 'I trust ye'll lat them wait, or
+else sen' for them.' But the yerl sat an' said never a word. The
+prence gae him ae glower, an' declared that his leddy's word was
+law to him; he wad bide till she wulled him to gang. At this her
+een shot fire 'maist like his ain, an' she smilit as she had never
+smilit afore; an' the yerl cudna bide the sicht o' 't, but daurna
+interfere: he rase an' left the room an' them thegither.
+
+"What passed atwixt the twa, there was nane to tell: but or an hoor
+was by, they cam oot upo' the gairden terrace thegither, han' in
+han', luikin' baith o' them as gran' an' as weel pleased as gien
+they had been king and queen. The lang an' the short o' 't was,
+that the same day at nicht the twa was merried. Naither o' them
+wad hear o' a priest. Say what the auld yerl cud, they wad not hear
+o' sic a thing, an' the leddy was 'maist mair set agane 't nor the
+prence. She wad be merried accordin' to Scots law, she said, an'
+wad hae nae ither ceremony, say 'at he likit!
+
+"A gran' feast was gotten ready, an' jist the meenute afore it was
+cairriet to the ha', the great bell o' the castel yowlt oot, an'
+a' the fowk o' the hoose was gaithered i' the coortyaird, an' oot
+cam the twa afore them, han' in han', declarin' themsel's merried
+fowk, the whilk, accordin' to Scots law, was but ower guid a
+merriage. Syne they sat doon to their denner, an' there they sat
+--no drinkin' muckle, they say, but merrily enjoyin' themsel's,
+the leddy singin' a sang noo an' again, an' the prence sayin' he
+ance cud sing, but had forgotten the gait o' 't: but never a prayer
+said, nor a blessin' askit--oontil the clock chappit twal, whaurupon
+the prence and the prencess rase to gang to their bed--in a room
+whaur the king himsel' aye sleepit whan he cam to see them. But
+there wasna ane o' the men or the maids 'at wad hae daured be their
+lanes wi' that man, prence as he ca'd himsel'.
+
+"A meenute, or barely twa, was ower, whan a cry cam frae the king's
+room--a fearfu' cry--a lang lang skreigh. The men an' the maids
+luikit at ane anither wi' awsome luiks; an' 'He's killin' her!'
+they a' gaspit at ance.
+
+"Noo she was never a favourite wi' ony ane o' her ain fowk, but
+still they couldna hear sic a cry frae her ohn run to the yell."
+
+"They fand him pacin' up and doon the ha', an' luikin' like a deid
+man in a rage o' fear. But when they telled him, he only leuch at
+them, an' ca'd them ill names, an' said he had na hard a cheep.
+Sae they tuik naething by that, an' gaed back trimlin'.
+
+"Twa o' them, a man an' a maid to haud hert in ane anither, gaed
+up to the door o' the transe (passage) 'at led to the king's room;
+but for a while they hard naething. Syne cam the soon' o' moanin'
+an' greitin' an' prayin'.
+
+"The neist meenute they war back again amo' the lave, luikin' like
+twa corps. They had opent the door o' the transe to hearken closer,
+an' what sud they see there but the fiery een an' the white teeth
+o' the prence's horse, lyin' athort the door o' the king's room,
+wi' 's hied atween 's fore feet, an keepin' watch like a tyke (dog)!
+
+"Er' lang they bethoucht themsels, an twa o' them set oot an aff
+thegither for the priory--that's whaur yer ain hoose o' Lossie
+noo stan's, my lord, to fess a priest. It wad be a guid twa hoor
+or they wan back, an' a' that time, ilka noo an' than, the moaning
+an' the beggin' an' the cryin' wad come again. An' the warder
+upo' the heich tooer declared 'at ever sin' midnicht the prence's
+menyie, the haill twal o' them, was careerin' aboot the castel, noon'
+an noon', wi' the een o' their beasts lowin', and their heids oot,
+an' their manes up, an their tails fleein' ahint them. He aye lost
+sicht o' them whan they wan to the edge o' the scaur, but roon'
+they aye cam again upo' the ither side, as gien there had been a
+ro'd whaur there wasna even a ledge.
+
+"The moment the priest's horse set fut upo' the drawbrig, the puir
+leddy gae anither ougsome cry, a hantle waur nor the first, an'
+up gat a suddent roar an' a blast o' win' that maist cairried the
+castel there aff o' the cliff intill the watter, an' syne cam a
+flash o' blue licht an' a rum'lin'. Efter that, a' was quaiet: it
+was a' ower afore the priest wan athort the coortyaird an' up the
+stair. For he crossed himsel' an' gaed straucht for the bridal
+chaumer. By this time the yerl had come up, an' followed cooerin'
+ahin' the priest.
+
+"Never a horse was i' the transe; an' the priest, first layin' the
+cross 'at hang frae 's belt agane the door o' the chaumer, flang
+'t open wi'oot ony ceremony, for ye 'll alloo there was room for
+nane.
+
+"An' what think ye was the first thing the yerl saw?--A great
+hole i' the wa' o' the room, an' the starry pleuch luikin' in at
+it, an' the sea lyin' far doon afore him--as quaiet as the bride
+upo' the bed--but a hantle bonnier to luik at; for ilka steek that
+had been on her was brunt aff, an' the bonny body o' her lyin' a'
+runklet, an' as black 's a coal frae heid to fut; an' the reek 'at
+rase frae 't was heedeous. I needna say the bridegroom wasna there.
+Some fowk thoucht it a guid sign that he hadna cairried the body
+wi' him; but maybe he was ower suddent scared by the fut o' the
+priest's horse upo' the drawbrig, an' dauredna bide his oncome.
+Sae the fower fut stane--wa' had to flee afore him, for a throu
+gang to the Prence o' the Pooer o' the Air. An' yon's the verra hole
+to this day, 'at ye was sae near ower weel acquaint wi' yersel',
+my leddy. For the yerl left the castel, and never a Colonsay has
+made his abode there sin' syne. But some say 'at the rizzon the
+castel cam to be desertit a'thegither was, that as aften as they
+biggit up the hole, it fell oot again as sure 's the day o' the year
+cam roon' whan it first happened. They say, that at twal o'clock
+that same nicht, the door o' that room aye gaed tu, an' that naebody
+daur touch 't, for the heat o' the han'le o' 't; an' syne cam the
+skreighin' an' the moanin', an' the fearsome skelloch at the last,
+an' a rum'le like thun'er, an' i' the mornin' there was the wa' oot!
+The hole's bigger noo, for a' the decay o' the castel has taen to
+slidin' oot at it, an' doobtless it'll spread an' spread till the
+haill structur vainishes; at least sae they say, my lord; but I
+wad hae a try at the haudin' o' 't thegither for a' that. I dinna
+see 'at the deil sud hae 't a' his ain gait, as gien we war a' fleyt
+at him. Fowk hae threepit upo' me that there i' the gloamin' they
+hae seen an' awsome face luikin' in upo' them throu' that slap i'
+the wa'; but I never believed it was onything but their ain fancy,
+though for a' 'at I ken, it may ha' been something no canny. Still,
+I say, wha 's feart? The Ill Man has no pooer 'cep ower his ain
+kin. We 're tellt to resist him an' he'll flee frae 's."
+
+"A good story, and well told," said the marquis kindly. "Don't you
+think so, Florimel?"
+
+"Yes, papa," Lady Florimel answered; "only he kept us waiting too
+long for the end of it."
+
+"Some fowk, my leddy," said Malcolm, "wad aye be at the hin'er en'
+o' a'thing. But for mysel', the mair pleased I was to be gaein'
+ony gait, the mair I wad spin oot the ro'd till 't."
+
+"How much of the story may be your own invention now?" said the
+marquis.
+
+"Ow, nae that muckle, my lord; jist a feow extras an' partic'lars
+'at micht weel hae been, wi' an adjective, or an adverb, or sic
+like, here an' there. I made ae mistak' though; gien 't was you
+hole yonner, they bude till hae gane doon an' no up the stair to
+their chaumer."
+
+His lordship laughed, and, again commending the tale, rose: it was
+time to re-embark--an operation less arduous than before, for in
+the present state of the tide it was easy to bring the cutter so
+close to a low rock that even Lady Florimel could step on board.
+
+As they had now to beat to windward, Malcolm kept the tiller in
+his own hand. But indeed, Lady Florimel did not want to steer; she
+was so much occupied with her thoughts that her hands must remain
+idle.
+
+Partly to turn them away from the more terrible portion of her
+adventure, she began to reflect upon her interview with Mrs Catanach
+--if interview it could be called, where she had seen no one. At
+first she was sorry that she had not told her father of it, and
+had the ruin searched; but when she thought of the communication
+the woman had made to her, she came to the conclusion that it was,
+for various reasons--not to mention the probability that he would
+have set it all down to the workings of an unavoidably excited
+nervous condition--better that she should mention it to no one
+but Duncan MacPhail.
+
+When they arrived at the harbour quay, they found the carriage
+waiting, but neither the marquis nor Lady Florimel thought of
+Malcolm's foot, and he was left to limp painfully home. As he passed
+Mrs Catanach's cottage, he looked up: there were the blinds still
+drawn down; the door was shut, and the place was silent as the
+grave. By the time he reached Lossie House, his foot was very much
+swollen. When Mrs Courthope saw it, she sent him to bed at once,
+and applied a poultice.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII: DUNCAN'S DISCLOSURE
+
+
+The night long Malcolm kept dreaming of his fall; and his dreams
+were worse than the reality, inasmuch as they invariably sent him
+sliding out of the breach, to receive the cut on the rocks below.
+Very oddly this catastrophe was always occasioned by the grasp of
+a hand on his ankle. Invariably also, just as he slipped, the face
+of the Prince appeared in the breach, but it was at the same time
+the face of Mrs Catanach.
+
+The next morning, Mrs Courthope found him feverish, and insisted
+on his remaining in bed--no small trial to one who had never been
+an hour ill in his life; but he was suffering so much that he made
+little resistance.
+
+In the enforced quiescence, and under the excitements of pain and
+fever, Malcolm first became aware how much the idea of Lady Florimel
+had at length possessed him. But even in his own thought he never
+once came upon the phrase, in love, as representing his condition
+in regard of her: he only knew that he worshipped her, and would
+be overjoyed to die for her. The youth had about as little vanity
+as could well consist with individual coherence; if he was vain at
+all, it was neither of his intellectual nor personal endowments,
+but of the few tunes he could play on his grandfather's pipes. He
+could run and swim, rare accomplishments amongst the fishermen, and
+was said to be the best dancer of them all; but he never thought
+of such comparison himself. The rescue of Lady Florimel made him
+very happy: he had been of service to her; but so far was he from
+cherishing a shadow of presumption, that as he lay there he felt
+it would be utter content to live serving her for ever, even when
+he was old and wrinkled and gray like his grandfather: he never
+dreamed of her growing old and wrinkled and gray.
+
+A single sudden thought sufficed to scatter--not the devotion,
+but its peace. Of course she would marry some day, and what then?
+He looked the inevitable in the face; but as he looked, that face
+grew an ugly one. He broke into a laugh: his soul had settled like
+a brooding cloud over the gulf that lay between a fisher lad and
+the daughter of a peer! But although he was no coxcomb, neither had
+fed himself on romances, as Lady Florimel had been doing of late,
+and although the laugh was quite honestly laughed at himself, it was
+nevertheless a bitter one. For again came the question: Why should
+an absurdity be a possibility? It was absurd, and yet possible:
+there was the point. In mathematics it was not so: there, of two
+opposites to prove one an absurdity, was to prove the other a fact.
+Neither in metaphysics was it so: there also an impossibility and
+an absurdity were one and the same thing. But here, in a region
+of infinitely more import to the human life than an eternity
+of mathematical truth, there was at least one absurdity which was
+yet inevitable--an absurdity--yet with a villainous attendance
+of direst heat, marrow freezing cold, faintings, and ravings, and
+demoniacal laughter.
+
+Had it been a purely logical question he was dealing with, he
+might not have been quite puzzled; but to apply logic here, as he
+was attempting to do, was like--not like attacking a fortification
+with a penknife, for a penknife might win its way through the
+granite ribs of Cronstadt--it was like attacking an eclipse with
+a broomstick: there was a solution to the difficulty; but as the
+difficulty itself was deeper than he knew, so the answer to it
+lay higher than he could reach--was in fact at once grander and
+finer than he was yet capable of understanding.
+
+His disjointed meditations were interrupted quite by the entrance
+of the man to whom alone of all men he could at the time have given
+a hearty welcome. The schoolmaster seated himself by his bedside,
+and they had a long talk. I had set down this talk, but came to the
+conclusion I had better not print it: ranging both high and wide,
+and touching on points of vital importance, it was yet so odd, that
+it would have been to too many of my readers but a Chimera tumbling
+in a vacuum--as they will readily allow when I tell them that it
+started from the question--which had arisen in Malcolm's mind so
+long ago, but which he had not hitherto propounded to his friend
+--as to the consequences of a man's marrying a mermaid; and that
+Malcolm, reversing its relations, proposed next, the consequences
+of a man's being in love with a ghost or an angel.
+
+" dreidfu' tired o' lyin' here i' my bed," said Malcolm at length
+when, neither desiring to carry the conversation further, a pause
+had intervened. "I dinna ken what I want. Whiles I think its the
+sun, whiles the win', and whiles the watter. But I canna rist. Haena
+ye a bit ballant ye could say till me Mr Graham? There's naething
+wad quaiet me like a ballant."
+
+The schoolmaster thought for a few minutes, and then said, "I'll
+give you one of my own, if you like, Malcolm. I made it some twenty
+or thirty years ago."
+
+"That wad be a trate, sir," returned Malcolm; and the master,
+with perfect rhythm, and a modulation amounting almost to melody,
+repeated the following verses:
+
+The water ran doon fine the heich hope heid, (head of the valley)
+Wi' a Rin, burnie, rin;
+It wimpled, an' waggled, an' sang a screed
+O' nonsense, an' wadna blin, (cease)
+Wi' its Rin, burnie, rin.
+
+Frae the hert o' the warl', wi' a swirl an' a sway,
+An' a Rin, burnie, rin,
+That water lap clear frae the dark till the day,
+An' singin' awa' did spin,
+Wi' its Rin, burnie, rin.
+
+Ae wee bit mile frae the heich hope held,
+Wi' a Rin, burnie, rin,
+'Mang her yows an' her lambs the herd lassie stude
+An' she loot a tear fa' in,
+Wi' a Rin, burnie, rin.
+
+Frae the hert o' the maiden that tear drap rase,
+Wi' a Rin, burnie rin;
+Wearily clim'in' up narrow ways,
+There was but a drap to fa' in,
+Sae slow did that burnie rin.
+
+Twa wee bit miles frae the heich hope heid,
+Wi' a Rin, burnie, rin,
+Doon creepit a cowerin' streakie o' reid,
+An' meltit awa' within,
+Wi' a Rin, burnie, rin.
+
+Frae the hert o' a youth cam the tricklin' reid,
+Wi' a Rin, burnie, rin;
+It ran an' ran till it left him deid,
+An' syne it dried up i' the win',
+An' that burnie nae mair did rin.
+
+Whan the wimplin' horn that frae three herts gaed
+Wi' a Rin, burnie, rin,
+Cam to the lip o' the sea sae braid,
+It curled an' grued wi' pain o' sin--
+But it took that burnie in.
+
+"It's a bonny, bonny sang," said Malcolm; "but I canna say I
+a'thegither like it."
+
+"Why not?" asked Mr Graham, with an inquiring smile.
+
+"Because the ocean sudna mak a mou' at the puir earth burnie that
+cudna help what ran intill 't."
+
+"It took it in though, and made it clean, for all the pain it
+couldn't help either."
+
+"Weel, gien ye luik at it that gait!" said Malcolm.
+
+In the evening his grandfather came to see him, and sat down by his
+bedside, full of a tender anxiety which he was soon able to alleviate.
+
+"Wownded in ta hand and in ta foot!" said the seer: "what can it
+mean? It must mean something, Malcolm, my son."
+
+"Weel, daddy, we maun jist bide till we see," said Malcolm cheerfully.
+
+A little talk followed, in the course of which it came into Malcolm's
+head to tell his grandfather the dream he had had so much of the
+first night he had slept in that room--but more for the sake of
+something to talk about that would interest one who believed in
+all kinds of prefigurations, than for any other reason.
+
+Duncan sat moodily silent for some time, and then, with a great heave
+of his broad chest, lifted up his head, like one who had formed a
+resolution, and said:
+
+"The hour has come. She has long peen afrait to meet it, put it has
+come, and Allister will meet it.--she'll not pe your cran'father,
+my son."
+
+He spoke the words with perfect composure, but as soon as they were
+uttered, burst into a wail, and sobbed like a child.
+
+"Ye'll be my ain father than?" said Malcolm.
+
+"No, no, my son. She'll not pe anything that's your own at aal!"
+
+And the tears flowed down his channelled cheeks.
+
+For one moment Malcolm was silent, utterly bewildered. But he
+must comfort the old man first, and think about what he had said
+afterwards.
+
+"Ye're my ain daddy, whatever ye are!" he said. "Tell me a' aboot
+it, daddy."
+
+"she'll tell you all she'll pe knowing, my son, and she nefer
+told a lie efen to a Cawmill."
+
+He began his story in haste, as if anxious to have it over, but had
+to pause often from fresh outbursts of grief. It contained nothing
+more of the essential than I have already recorded, and Malcolm
+was perplexed to think why what he had known all the time should
+affect him so much in the telling. But when he ended with the bitter
+cry--"And now you'll pe loving her no more, my poy: my chilt, my
+Malcolm!" he understood it.
+
+"Daddy! daddy!" he cried, throwing his arms round his neck and
+kissing him, "I lo'e ye better nor ever. An' weel I may!"
+
+"But how can you, when you 've cot none of ta plood in you, my
+son?" persisted Duncan.
+
+"I hae as muckle as ever I had, daddy."
+
+"Yes, put you'll tidn't know."
+
+"But ye did, daddy."
+
+"Yes, and inteet she cannot tell why she'll pe loving you so much
+herself aal ta time!"
+
+"Weel, daddy, gien ye cud lo'e me sae weel, kennin' me nae bluid's
+bluid o' yer ain--I canna help it: I maun lo'e ye mair nor ever,
+noo' at I ken 't tu.--Daddy, daddy, I had nae claim upo' ye, an'
+ye hae been father an' gran'father an' a' to me!"
+
+"What could she do, Malcolm, my poy? Ta chilt had no one, and she
+had no one, and so it wass. You must pe her own poy after all! And
+she'll not pe wondering put.--It might pe.--Yes, inteed not!"
+
+His voice sank to the murmurs of a half uttered soliloquy, and as
+he murmured he stroked Malcolm's cheek.
+
+"What are ye efter noo daddy?" asked Malcolm.
+
+The only sign that Duncan heard the question was the complete
+silence that followed. When Malcolm repeated it, he said something
+in Gaelic, but finished the sentence thus, apparently unaware of
+the change of language:
+
+"--only how else should she pe lovin you so much, Malcolm, my
+son?"
+
+"I ken what Maister Graham would say, daddy," rejoined Malcolm, at
+a half guess.
+
+"What would he say, my son? He's a coot man, your Maister Graham.
+--It could not pe without ta sem fathers, and ta sem chief."
+
+"He wad say it was 'cause we war a' o' ae bluid--'cause we had
+a' ae father."
+
+"Oh yes, no toubt! We aal come from ta same first paarents; put tat
+will be a fery long way off, pefore ta clans cot tokether. It 'll
+not pe holding fery well now, my son. Tat waas pefore ta Cawmills."
+
+"That's no what Maister Graham would mean, daddy," said Malcolm.
+"He would mean that God was the father o' 's a', and sae we cudna
+help lo'in' ane anither."
+
+"No; tat cannot pe right, Malcolm; for then we should haf to love
+eferybody. Now she loves you, my son, and she hates Cawmill of
+Clenlyon. She loves Mistress Partan when she'll not pe too rude to
+her, and she hates tat Mistress Catanach. She's a paad woman, 'tat
+she'll pe certain sure, though she'll nefor saw her to speak to
+her. She'll haf claaws to her poosoms."
+
+"Weel, daddy, there was naething ither to gar ye lo'e me. I was
+jist a helpless human bein', an' sae for that, an' nae ither rizzon,
+ye tuik a' that fash wi' me! An' for mysel',  deid sure I cudna
+lo'e ye better gien ye war twise my gran'father."
+
+"He's her own poy!" cried the piper, much comforted; and his hand
+sought his head, and lighted gently upon it. "Put, maype," he went
+on, "she might not haf loved you so much if she hadn't peen tinking
+sometimes--"
+
+He checked himself. Malcolm's questions brought no conclusion to
+the sentence, and a long silence followed.
+
+"Supposin' I was to turn oot a Cawmill?" said Malcolm, at length.
+
+The hand that was fondling his curls withdrew as if a serpent had
+bit it, and Duncan rose from his chair.
+
+"Wass it her own son to pe speaking such an efil thing?" he said,
+in a tone of injured and sad expostulation.
+
+"For onything ye ken, daddy--ye canna tell but it mith be."
+
+"Ton't preathe it, my son!" cried Duncan in a voice of agony, as
+if he saw unfolding a fearful game the arch enemy had been playing
+for his soul. "Put it cannot pe," he resumed instantly, "for ten
+how should she pe loving you, my son?"
+
+"'Cause ye was in for that afore ye kent wha the puir beastie was."
+
+"Ta tarling chilt! she could not haf loved him if he had peen a
+Cawmill. Her soul would haf chumped pack from him as from ta snake
+in ta tree. Ta hate in her heart to ta plood of ta Cawmill, would
+have killed ta chilt of ta Cawmill plood. No, Malcolm! no, my son!"
+
+"Ye wadna hae me believe, daddy, that gien ye had kent by mark o'
+hiv (hoof) an' horn, that the cratur they laid i' yer lap was a
+Cawmill--ye wad hae risen up, an' lootin it lie whaur it fell?"
+
+"No, Malcolm; I would haf put my foot upon it, as I would on ta
+young fiper in ta heather."
+
+"Gien I was to turn oot ane o' that ill race, ye wad hate me, than,
+daddy--efter a'! Ochone, daddy! Ye wad be weel pleased to think
+hoo ye stack yer durk throu' the ill han' o' me, an' wadna rist
+till ye had it throu' the waur hert.--I doobt I had better up
+an' awa', daddy, for wha' kens what ye mayna du to me?"
+
+Malcolm made a movement to rise, and Duncan's quick ears understood
+it. He sat down again by his bedside and threw his arms over him.
+
+"Lie town, lie town, my poy. If you ket up, tat will pe you are a
+Cawmill. No, no, my son! You are ferry cruel to your own old daddy.
+She would pe too much sorry for her poy to hate him. It will pe
+so treadful to pe a Cawmill! No, no, my poy! She would take you to
+her poosom, and tat would trive ta Cawmill out of you. Put ton't
+speak of it any more, my son, for it cannot pe.--She must co now,
+for her pipes will pe waiting for her."
+
+Malcolm feared he had ventured too far, for never before had his
+grandfather left him except for work. But the possibility he had
+started might do something to soften the dire endurance of his
+hatred.
+
+His thoughts turned to the new darkness let in upon his history and
+prospects. All at once the cry of the mad laird rang in his mind's
+ear: "I dinna ken whaur I cam frae!"
+
+Duncan's revelation brought with it nothing to be done--hardly
+anything to be thought--merely room for most shadowy, most unfounded
+conjecture--nay, not conjecture--nothing but the vaguest of
+castle building! In merry mood, he would henceforth be the son of
+some mighty man, with a boundless future of sunshine opening before
+him; in sad mood, the son of some strolling gipsy or worse--his
+very origin better forgotten--a disgrace to the existence for
+his share in which he had hitherto been peacefully thankful.
+
+Like a lurking phantom shroud, the sad mood leaped from the field
+of his speculation, and wrapped him in its folds: sure enough he was
+but a beggar's brat--How henceforth was he to look Lady Florimel
+in the face? Humble as he had believed his origin, he had hitherto
+been proud of it: with such a high minded sire as he deemed his
+own, how could he be other? But now! Nevermore could he look one
+of his old companions in the face! They were all honourable men;
+he a base born foundling!
+
+He would tell Mr Graham of course; but what could Mr Graham say to
+it? The fact remained. He must leave Portlossie.
+
+His mind went on brooding, speculating, devising. The evening sunk
+into the night, but he never knew he was in the dark until the
+housekeeper brought him a light. After a cup of tea, his thoughts
+found pleasanter paths. One thing was certain: he must lay himself
+out, as he had never done before, to make Duncan MacPhail happy.
+With this one thing clear to both heart and mind, he fell fast
+asleep.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII: THE WIZARD'S CHAMBER
+
+
+He woke in the dark, with that strange feeling of bewilderment
+which accompanies the consciousness of having been waked: is it that
+the brain wakes before the mind, and like a servant unexpectedly
+summoned, does not know what to do with its master from home? or
+is it that the master wakes first, and the servant is too sleepy
+to answer his call? Quickly coming to himself, however, he sought
+the cause of the perturbation now slowly ebbing. But the dark into
+which he stared could tell nothing; therefore he abandoned his eyes,
+took his station in his ears, and thence sent out his messengers.
+But neither, for some moments, could the scouts of hearing come
+upon any sign.
+
+At length, something seemed doubtfully to touch the sense-the
+faintest suspicion of a noise in the next room--the wizard's
+chamber: it was enough to set Malcolm on the floor.
+
+Forgetting his wounded foot and lighting upon it, the agony it
+caused him dropped him at once on his hands and knees, and in this
+posture he crept into the passage. As soon as his head was outside
+his own door, he saw a faint gleam of light coming from beneath
+that of the next room. Advancing noiselessly, and softly feeling
+for the latch, his hand encountered a bunch of keys depending from
+the lock, but happily did not set them jingling. As softly, he
+lifted the latch, when, almost of itself, the door opened a couple
+of inches, and, with bated breath, he saw the back of a figure he
+could not mistake--that of Mrs Catanach. She was stooping by the
+side of a tent bed much like his own, fumbling with the bottom hem
+of one of the check curtains, which she was holding towards the
+light of a lantern on a chair. Suddenly she turned her face to the
+door, as if apprehending a presence; as suddenly, he closed it,
+and turned the key in the lock. To do so he had to use considerable
+force, and concluded its grating sound had been what waked him.
+
+Having thus secured the prowler, he crept back to his room, considering
+what he should do next. The speedy result of his cogitations was,
+that he indued his nether garments, though with difficulty from
+the size of his foot, thrust his head and arms through a jersey,
+and set out on hands and knees for an awkward crawl to Lord Lossie's
+bedroom.
+
+It was a painful journey, especially down the two spiral stone
+stairs, which led to the first floor where he lay. As he went,
+Malcolm resolved, in order to avoid rousing needless observers, to
+enter the room, if possible, before waking the marquis.
+
+The door opened noiselessly. A night light, afloat in a crystal
+cup, revealed the bed, and his master asleep, with one arm lying
+on the crimson quilt. He crept in, closed the door behind him,
+advanced halfway to the bed, and in a low voice called the marquis.
+
+Lord Lossie started up on his elbow, and without a moment's
+consideration seized one of a brace of pistols which lay on a table
+by his side, and fired. The ball went with a sharp thud into the
+thick mahogany door.
+
+"My lord! my lord!" cried Malcolm, "it 's only me!"
+
+"And who the devil are you?" returned the marquis, snatching up
+the second pistol.
+
+"Malcolm, yer ain henchman, my lord."
+
+"Damn you! what are you about then? Get up. What are you after
+there--crawling like a thief?"
+
+As he spoke he leaped from the bed, and seized Malcolm by the back
+of the neck.
+
+"It's a mercy I wasna mair like an honest man," said Malcolm, "or
+that bullet wad hae been throu' the hams o' me. Yer lordship's a
+wheen ower rash."
+
+"Rash! you rascal!" cried Lord Lossie; "when a fellow comes into
+my room on his hands and knees in the middle of the night! Get up,
+and tell me what you are after, or, by Jove! I'll break every bone
+in your body."
+
+A kick from his bare foot in Malcolm's ribs fitly closed the
+sentence.
+
+"Ye are ower rash, my lord!" persisted Malcolm. "I canna get up.
+I hae a fit the size o' a sma' buoy!"
+
+"Speak, then, you rascal!" said his lordship, loosening his hold,
+and retreating a few steps, with the pistol cocked in his hand.
+
+"Dinna ye think it wad be better to lock the door, for fear the
+shot sud bring ony o' the fowk?" suggested Malcolm, as he rose to
+his knees and leaned his hands on a chair.
+
+"You're bent on murdering me--are you then?" said the marquis,
+beginning to come to himself and see the ludicrousness of the
+situation.
+
+"Gien I had been that, my lord, I wadna hae waukent ye up first."
+
+"Well, what the devil is it all about?--You needn't think any
+of the men will come. They're a pack of the greatest cowards ever
+breathed."
+
+"Weel, my lord, I hae gruppit her at last, an' I bude to come an
+tell ye.''
+
+"Leave your beastly gibberish. You can speak what at least resembles
+English when you like."
+
+"Weel, my lord, I hae her unner lock an' keye."
+
+"Who, in the name of Satan?"
+
+"Mistress Catanach, my lord!"
+
+"Damn her eyes! What's she to me that I should be waked out of a
+good sleep for her?"
+
+"That's what I wad fain yer lordship kent: I dinna."
+
+"None of your riddles! Explain yourself;--and make haste; I want
+to go to bed again."
+
+"'Deed, yer lordship maun jist pit on yer claes, an' come wi'."
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"To the warlock's chaumer, my lord--whaur that ill wuman remains
+'in durance vile,' as Spenser wad say--but no sae vile's hersel',
+I doobt."
+
+Thus arrived at length, with a clear road before him, at the opening
+of his case, Malcolm told in few words what had fallen out. As
+he went on, the marquis grew interested, and by the time he had
+finished, had got himself into dressing gown and slippers.
+
+"Wadna ye tak yer pistol?" suggested Malcolm slyly.
+
+"What! to meet a woman?" said his lordship.
+
+"Ow na! but wha kens there michtna be anither murderer aboot? There
+micht be twa in ae nicht."
+
+Impertinent as was Malcolm's humour, his master did not take it
+amiss: he lighted a candle, told him to lead the way, and took his
+revenge by making joke after joke upon him as he crawled along.
+With the upper regions of his house the marquis was as little
+acquainted, as with those of his nature, and required a guide.
+
+Arrived at length at the wizard's chamber, they listened at the
+door for a moment, but heard nothing; neither was there any light
+visible at its lines of junction. Malcolm turned the key, and the
+marquis stood close behind, ready to enter. But the moment the
+door was unlocked, it was pulled open violently, and Mrs Catanach,
+looking too high to see Malcolm who was on his knees, aimed a good
+blow at the face she did see, in the hope, no doubt, of thus making
+her escape. But it fell short, being countered by Malcolm's head
+in the softest part of her person, with the result of a clear
+entrance. The marquis burst out laughing, and stepped into the room
+with a rough joke. Malcolm remained in the doorway.
+
+"My lord," said Mrs Catanach, gathering herself together, and
+rising little the worse, save in temper, for the treatment he had
+commented upon, "I have a word for your lordship's own ear."
+
+"Your right to be there does stand in need of explanation," said
+the marquis.
+
+She walked up to him with confidence.
+
+"You shall have an explanation, my lord," she said, "such as shall
+be my full quittance for intrusion even at this untimely hour of
+the night."
+
+"Say on then," returned his lordship.
+
+"Send that boy away then, my lord."
+
+"I prefer having him stay," said the marquis.
+
+"Not a word shall cross my lips till he's gone," persisted Mrs
+Catanach. "I know him too well! Awa' wi' ye, ye deil's buckie!"
+she continued, turning to Malcolm; "I ken mair aboot ye nor ye ken
+aboot yersel', an' deil hae't I ken o' guid to you or yours! But
+I s' gar ye lauch o' the wrang side o' your mou' yet, my man."
+
+Malcolm, who had seated himself on the threshold, only laughed and
+looked reference to his master.
+
+"Your lordship was never in the way of being frightened at a woman,"
+said Mrs Catanach, with an ugly expression of insinuation.
+
+The marquis shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"That depends," he said. Then turning to Malcolm, "Go along," he
+added; "only keep within call. I may want you."
+
+"Nane o' yer hearkenin' at the keye hole, though, or I s' lug mark
+ye, ye--!" said Mrs Catanach, finishing the sentence none the more
+mildly that she did it only in her heart.
+
+"I wadna hae ye believe a' 'at she says, my lord," said Malcolm,
+with a significant smile, as he turned to creep away.
+
+He closed the door behind him, and lest Mrs Catanach should
+repossess herself of the key, drew it from the lock, and, removing
+a few yards, sat down in the passage by his own door. A good many
+minutes passed, during which he heard not a sound.
+
+At length the door opened, and his lordship came out. Malcolm looked
+up, and saw the light of the candle the marquis carried, reflected
+from a face like that of a corpse. Different as they were, Malcolm
+could not help thinking of the only dead face he had ever seen. It
+terrified him for the moment in which it passed without looking at
+him.
+
+"My lord!" said Malcolm gently.
+
+His master made no reply.
+
+"My lord!" cried Malcolm, hurriedly pursuing him with his voice,
+"am I to lea' the keyes wi' yon hurdon, and lat her open what doors
+she likes?"
+
+"Go to bed," said the marquis angrily, "and leave the woman alone;"
+with which words he turned into the adjoining passage, and disappeared.
+
+Mrs Catanach had not come out of the wizard's chamber, and for a
+moment Malcolm felt strongly tempted to lock her in once more. But
+he reflected that he had no right to do so after what his lordship
+had said--else, he declared to himself, he would have given her
+at least as good a fright as she seemed to have given his master,
+to whom he had no doubt she had been telling some horrible lies.
+He withdrew, therefore, into his room--to lie pondering again
+for a wakeful while.
+
+This horrible woman claimed then to know more concerning him than
+his so called grandfather, and, from her profession; it was likely
+enough; but information from her was hopeless--at least until
+her own evil time came; and then, how was any one to believe what
+she might choose to say? So long, however, as she did not claim
+him for her own, she could, he thought, do him no hurt he would be
+afraid to meet.
+
+But what could she be about in that room still? She might have gone,
+though, without the fall of her soft fat foot once betraying her!
+
+Again he got out of bed, and crept to the wizard's door, and
+listened. But all was still. He tried to open it, but could not:
+Mrs Catanach was doubtless spending the night there, and perhaps at
+that moment lay, evil conscience and all, fast asleep in the tent
+bed. He withdrew once more, wondering whether she was aware that
+he occupied the next room; and, having, for the first time, taken
+care to fasten his own door, got into bed, finally this time, and
+fell asleep.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV: THE HERMIT
+
+
+Malcolm had flattered himself that he would at least be able to
+visit his grandfather the next day; but, instead of that, he did
+not even make an attempt to rise--head as well as foot aching
+so much, that he felt unfit for the least exertion--a phase of
+being he had never hitherto known. Mrs Courthope insisted on advice,
+and the result was that a whole week passed before he was allowed
+to leave his room.
+
+In the meantime, a whisper awoke and passed from mouth to mouth
+in all directions through the little burgh--whence arising only
+one could tell, for even her mouthpiece, Miss Horn's Jean, was such
+a mere tool in the midwife's hands, that she never doubted but Mrs
+Catanach was, as she said, only telling the tale as it was told
+to her. Mrs Catanach, moreover, absolutely certain that no threats
+would render Jean capable of holding her tongue, had so impressed
+upon her the terrible consequences of repeating what she had told
+her, that, the moment the echo of her own utterances began to
+return to her own ears, she began to profess an utter disbelief in
+the whole matter--the precise result Mrs Catanach had foreseen
+and intended: now she lay unsuspected behind Jean, as behind a
+wall whose door was built up; for she had so graduated her threats,
+gathering the fullest and vaguest terrors of her supernatural
+powers about her name, that while Jean dared, with many misgivings,
+to tamper with the secret itself she dared not once mention
+Mrs Catanach in connection with it. For Mrs Catanach herself, she
+never alluded to the subject, and indeed when it was mentioned in
+her hearing pretended to avoid it; but at the same time she took good
+care that her silence should be not only eloquent, but discreetly
+so, that is, implying neither more nor less than she wished to be
+believed.
+
+The whisper, in its first germinal sprout, was merely that Malcolm
+was not a MacPhail; and even in its second stage it only amounted
+to this, that neither was he the grandson of old Duncan.
+
+In the third stage of its development, it became the assertion that
+Malcolm was the son of somebody of consequence; and in the fourth,
+that a certain person, not yet named, lay under shrewd suspicion.
+
+The fifth and final form it took was, that Malcolm was the son of
+Mrs Stewart of Gersefell, who had been led to believe that he died
+within a few days of his birth, whereas he had in fact been carried
+off and committed to the care of Duncan MacPhail, who drew a secret
+annual stipend of no small amount in consequence--whence indeed
+his well known riches!
+
+Concerning this final form of the whisper, a few of the women of
+the burgh believed or thought or fancied they remembered both the
+birth and reported death of the child in question--also certain
+rumours afloat at the time, which cast an air of probability over
+the new reading of his fate. In circles more remote from authentic
+sources, the general reports met with remarkable embellishments,
+but the framework of the rumour--what I may call the bones of it
+--remained undisputed.
+
+From Mrs Catanach's behaviour, every one believed that she knew
+all about the affair, but no one had a suspicion that she was the
+hidden fountain and prime mover of the report--so far to the
+contrary was it that people generally anticipated a frightful result
+for her when the truth came to be known, for that Mrs Stewart would
+follow her with all the vengeance of a bereaved tigress. Some indeed
+there were who fancied that the mother, if not in full complicity
+with the midwife, had at least given her consent to the arrangement;
+but these were not a little shaken in their opinion when at length
+Mrs Stewart herself began to figure more immediately in the affair,
+and it was witnessed that she had herself begun to search into
+the report. Certain it was that she had dashed into the town in a
+carriage and pair--the horses covered with foam--and had hurried,
+quite raised-like, from house to house, prosecuting inquiries. It
+was said that, finding at length, after much labour that she could
+arrive at no certainty even as to the first promulgator of the
+assertion, she had a terrible fit of crying, and professed herself
+unable, much as she would have wished it, to believe a word of the
+report: it was far too good news to be true; no such luck ever fell
+to her share--and so on. That she did not go near Duncan MacPhail
+was accounted for by the reflection, that, on the supposition
+itself, he was of the opposite party, and the truth was not to be
+looked for from him.
+
+At length it came to be known that, strongly urged, and battling
+with a repugnance all but invincible, she had gone to see Mrs
+Catanach, and had issued absolutely radiant with joy, declaring
+that she was now absolutely satisfied, and, as soon as she had
+communicated with the young man himself, would, without compromising
+any one, take what legal steps might be necessary to his recognition
+as her son.
+
+Although, however, these things had been going on all the week that
+Malcolm was confined to his room, they had not reached this last
+point until after he was out again, and mean time not a whisper of
+them had come to his or Duncan's ears. Had they been still in the
+Seaton, one or other of the travelling ripples of talk must have
+found them; but Duncan had come and gone between his cottage and
+Malcolm's bedside, without a single downy feather from the still
+widening flap of the wings of Fame ever dropping on him; and the
+only persons who visited Malcolm besides were the Doctor--too
+discreet in his office to mix himself up with gossip; Mr Graham,
+to whom nobody, except it had been Miss Horn, whom he had not seen
+for a fortnight, would have dreamed of mentioning such a subject;
+and Mrs Courthope--not only discreet like the doctor, but shy
+of such discourse as any reference to the rumour must usher in its
+train.
+
+At length he was sufficiently recovered to walk to his grandfather's
+cottage; but only now for the first time had he a notion of how
+far bodily condition can reach in the oppression and overclouding
+of the spiritual atmosphere.
+
+"Gien I be like this," he said to himself, "what maun the weather
+be like aneth yon hump o' the laird's!"
+
+Now also for the first time he understood what Mr Graham had meant
+when he told him that he only was a strong man who was strong in
+weakness; he only a brave man who, inhabiting trembling, yet faced
+his foe; he only a true man who, tempted by good, yet abstained.
+
+Duncan received him with delight, made him sit in his own old chair,
+got him a cup of tea, and waited upon him with the tenderness of a
+woman. While he drank his tea, Malcolm recounted his last adventure
+in connection with the wizard's chamber.
+
+"Tat will be ta ped she'll saw in her feeshon," said Duncan, whose
+very eyes seemed to listen to the tale.
+
+When Malcolm came to Mrs Catanach's assertion that she knew more
+of him than he did himself--
+
+"Then she peliefs ta voman does, my poy. We are aall poth of us in
+ta efil voman's power," said Duncan sadly.
+
+"Never a hair, daddy!" cried Malcolm. "A' pooer 's i' the han's
+o' ane, that's no her maister. Ken she what she likes, she canna
+pairt you an' me, daddy."
+
+"God forpid!" responded Duncan. "But we must pe on our kard."
+
+Close by the cottage stood an ivy grown bridge, of old leading the
+king's highway across the burn to the Auld Toon, but now leading
+only to the flower garden. Eager for the open air of which he had
+been so long deprived, and hoping he might meet the marquis or Lady
+Florimel, Malcolm would have had his grandfather to accompany him
+thither; but Duncan declined, for he had not yet attended to the
+lamps; and Malcolm therefore went alone.
+
+He was slowly wandering, where never wind blew, betwixt rows
+of stately hollyhocks, on which his eyes fed, while his ears were
+filled with the sweet noises of a little fountain, issuing from
+the upturned beak of a marble swan, which a marble urchin sought
+in vain to check by squeezing the long throat of the bird, when the
+sounds of its many toned fall in the granite basin seemed suddenly
+centupled on every side, and Malcolm found himself caught in
+a tremendous shower. Prudent enough to avoid getting wet in the
+present state of his health, he made for an arbour he saw near by,
+on the steep side of the valley--one he had never before happened
+to notice.
+
+Now it chanced that Lord Lossie himself was in the garden, and,
+caught also by the rain while feeding some pet goldfishes in a
+pond, betook himself to the same summer house, following Malcolm.
+
+Entering the arbour, Malcolm was about to seat himself until the
+shower should be over, when, perceiving a mossy arched entrance
+to a gloomy recess in the rock behind, he went to peep into it,
+curious to see what sort of a place it was.
+
+Now the foolish whim of a past generation had, in the farthest corner
+of the recess, and sideways from the door, seated the figure of a
+hermit, whose jointed limbs were so furnished with springs and so
+connected with the stone that floored the entrance, that as soon
+as a foot pressed the threshold, he rose, advanced a step, and held
+out his hand.
+
+The moment, therefore, Malcolm stepped in, up rose a pale, hollow
+cheeked, emaciated man, with eyes that stared glassily, made a long
+skeleton like stride towards him, and held out a huge bony hand,
+rather, as it seemed, with the intent of clutching, than of greeting,
+him. An unaccountable horror seized him; with a gasp which had
+nearly become a cry, he staggered backwards out of the cave. It
+seemed to add to his horror that the man did not follow--remained
+lurking in the obscurity behind. In the arbour Malcolm turned--
+turned to flee!--though why, or from what, he had scarce an idea.
+
+But when he turned he encountered the marquis, who was just entering
+the arbour.
+
+"Well, MacPhail," he said kindly, " glad--"
+
+But his glance became fixed in a stare; he changed colour, and did
+not finish his sentence.
+
+"I beg yer lordship's pardon," said Malcolm, wondering through all
+his perturbation at the look he had brought on his master's face;
+"I didna ken ye was at han'."
+
+"What the devil makes you look like that?" said the marquis, plainly
+with an effort to recover himself.
+
+Malcolm gave a hurried glance over his shoulder.
+
+"Ah! I see!" said his lordship, with a mechanical kind of smile,
+very unlike his usual one; "--you've never been in there before?"
+
+"No, my lord."
+
+"And you got a fright?"
+
+"Ken ye wha's that, in there, my lord?"
+
+"You booby! It's nothing but a dummy--with springs, and--and
+--all damned tomfoolery!"
+
+While he spoke his mouth twitched oddly, but instead of his bursting
+into the laugh of enjoyment natural to him at the discomfiture of
+another, his mouth kept on twitching and his eyes staring.
+
+"Ye maun hae seen him yersel' ower my shouther, my lord," hinted
+Malcolm.
+
+"I saw your face, and that was enough to--" But the marquis did
+not finish the sentence.
+
+"Weel, 'cep it was the oonnaiteral luik o' the thing--no human,
+an' yet sae dooms like it--I can not account for the grue or the
+trimmle 'at cam ower me, my lord, I never fan' onything like it i'
+my life afore. An' even noo 'at I unnerstan' what it is, I kenna
+what wad gar me luik the boody (bogie) i' the face again."
+
+"Go in at once," said the marquis fiercely.
+
+Malcolm looked him full in the eyes.
+
+"Ye mean what ye say, my lord?"
+
+"Yes, by God!" said the marquis, with an expression I can describe
+only as of almost savage solemnity.
+
+Malcolm stood silent for one moment.
+
+"Do you think I'll have a man about me that has no more courage than
+--than--a woman!" said his master, concluding with an effort.
+
+"I was jist turnin' ower an auld question, my lord--whether it
+be lawfu' to obey a tyrant. But it 's na worth stan'in' oot upo'.
+I s' gang."
+
+He turned to the arch, placed a hand on each side of it, and leaned
+forward with outstretched neck, peeped cautiously in, as if it were
+the den of a wild beast. The moment he saw the figure--seated
+on a stool--he was seized with the same unaccountable agitation,
+and drew back shivering.
+
+"Go in," shouted the marquis.
+
+Most Britons would count obedience to such a command slavish; but
+Malcolm's idea of liberty differed so far from that of most Britons,
+that he felt, if now he refused to obey the marquis, he might be a
+slave for ever; for he had already learned to recognize and abhor
+that slavery which is not the less the root of all other slaveries
+that it remains occult in proportion to its potency--self slavery:
+he must and would conquer this whim, antipathy, or whatever the
+loathing might be: it was a grand chance given him of proving his
+will supreme--that is himself a free man! He drew himself up,
+with a full breath, and stepped within the arch. Up rose the horror
+again, jerked itself towards him with a clank, and held out its
+hand. Malcolm seized it with such a gripe that its fingers came
+off in his grasp.
+
+"Will that du, my lord?" he said calmly, turning a face rigid with
+hidden conflict, and gleaming white, from the framework of the
+arch, upon his master, whose eyes seemed to devour him.
+
+"Come out," said the marquis, in a voice that seemed to belong to
+some one else.
+
+"I hae blaudit yer playock, my lord," said Malcolm ruefully, as he
+stepped from the cave and held out the fingers.
+
+Lord Lossie turned and left the arbour.
+
+Had Malcolm followed his inclination, he would have fled from it,
+but he mastered himself still, and walked quietly out. The marquis
+was pacing, with downbent head and hasty strides, up the garden:
+Malcolm turned the other way.
+
+The shower was over, and the sun was drawing out millions of mimic
+suns from the drops that hung, for a moment ere they fell, from
+flower and bush and great tree. But Malcolm saw nothing. Perplexed
+with himself and more perplexed yet with the behaviour of his
+master, he went back to his grandfather's cottage, and, as soon as
+he came in, recounted to him the whole occurrence.
+
+"He had a feeshon," said the bard, with wide eyes. "He comes of a
+race that sees."
+
+"What cud the veesion hae been, daddy?"
+
+"Tat she knows not, for ta feeshon tid not come to her," said the
+piper solemnly.
+
+Had the marquis had his vision in London, he would have gone straight
+to his study, as he called it, not without a sense of the absurdity
+involved, opened a certain cabinet, and drawn out a certain hidden
+drawer; being at Lossie, he walked up the glen of the burn to the
+bare hill, overlooking the House, the royal burgh, the great sea,
+and his own lands lying far and wide around him. But all the time
+he saw nothing of these--he saw but the low white forehead of
+his vision, a mouth of sweetness, and hazel eyes that looked into
+his very soul.
+
+Malcolm walked back to the House, clomb the narrow duct of an
+ancient stone stair that went screwing like a great auger through
+the pile from top to bottom, sought the wide lonely garret, flung
+himself upon his bed, and from his pillow gazed through the little
+dormer window on the pale blue skies flecked with cold white
+clouds, while in his mind's eye he saw the foliage beneath burning
+in the flames of slow decay, diverse as if each of the seven in the
+prismatic chord had chosen and seared its own: the first nor'easter
+that drove the flocks of Neptune on the sands, would sweep its
+ashes away. Life, he said to himself, was but a poor gray kind of
+thing after all. The peacock summer had folded its gorgeous train,
+and the soul within him had lost its purple and green, its gold
+and blue. He never thought of asking how much of the sadness was
+owing to bodily conditions with which he was little acquainted, and
+to compelled idleness in one accustomed to an active life. But if
+he had, the sorrowful probabilities of life would have seemed just
+the same. And indeed he might have argued that, to be subject to
+any evil from a cause inadequate, only involves an absurdity that
+embitters the pain by its mockery. He had yet to learn what faith
+can do, in the revelation of the Moodless, for the subjugation of
+mood to will.
+
+As he lay thus weighed upon rather than pondering, his eye fell on
+the bunch of keys which he had taken from the door of the wizard's
+chamber, and he wondered that Mrs Courthope had not seen and taken
+them--apparently had not missed them. And the chamber doomed to
+perpetual desertion lying all the time open to any stray foot! Once
+more at least, he must go and turn the key in the lock.
+
+As he went the desire awoke to look again into the chamber, for
+that night he had had neither light nor time enough to gain other
+than the vaguest impression of it.
+
+But for no lifting of the latch would the door open.--How could
+the woman--witch she must be--have locked it? He proceeded to
+unlock it. He tried one key, then another. He went over the whole
+bunch. Mystery upon mystery!--not one of them would turn. Bethinking
+himself, he began to try them the other way, and soon found one to
+throw the bolt on. He turned it in the contrary direction, and it
+threw the bolt off: still the door remained immovable! It must then
+--awful thought!--be fast on the inside! Was the woman's body
+lying there behind those check curtains? Would it lie there until
+it vanished, like that of the wizard,--vanished utterly--bones
+and all, to a little dust, which one day a housemaid might sweep
+up in a pan?
+
+On the other hand, if she had got shut in, would she not have
+made noise enough to be heard?--he had been day and night in the
+next room! But it was not a spring lock, and how could that have
+happened? Or would she not have been missed, and inquiry made
+after her? Only such an inquiry might well have never turned in the
+direction of Lossie House, and he might never have heard of it, if
+it had.
+
+Anyhow he must do something; and the first rational movement would
+clearly be to find out quietly for himself whether the woman was
+actually missing or not.
+
+Tired as he was he set out at once for the burgh, and the first
+person he saw was Mrs Catanach standing on her doorstep and shading
+her eyes with her hand, as she looked away out to the horizon over
+the roofs of the Seaton. He went no farther.
+
+In the evening he found an opportunity of telling his master how
+the room was strangely closed; but his lordship pooh poohed, and
+said something must have gone wrong with the clumsy old lock.
+
+With vague foresight, Malcolm took its key from the bunch, and,
+watching his opportunity, unseen hung the rest on their proper nail
+in the housekeeper's room. Then, having made sure that the door of
+the wizard's chamber was locked, he laid the key away in his own
+chest.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV: MR CAIRNS AND THE MARQUIS
+
+
+The religious movement amongst the fisher folk was still going on.
+Their meeting was now held often during the week, and at the same
+hour on the Sunday as other people met at church. Nor was it any
+wonder that, having participated in the fervour which pervaded
+their gatherings in the cave, they should have come to feel the so
+called divine service in the churches of their respective parishes
+a dull, cold, lifeless, and therefore unhelpful ordinance, and at
+length regarding it as composed of beggarly elements, breathing of
+bondage, to fill the Baillies' Barn three times every Sunday--a
+reverential and eager congregation.
+
+Now, had they confined their prayers and exhortations to those
+which, from an ecclesiastical point of view, constitute the unholy
+days of the week, Mr Cairns would have neither condescended nor
+presumed to take any notice of them; but when the bird's eye view
+from his pulpit began to show patches of bare board where human
+forms had wont to appear; and when these plague spots had not only
+lasted through successive Sundays, but had begun to spread more
+rapidly, he began to think it time to put a stop to such fanatical
+aberrations--the result of pride and spiritual presumption--
+hostile towards God, and rebellious towards their lawful rulers
+and instructors.
+
+For what an absurdity it was that the spirit of truth should have
+anything to communicate to illiterate and vulgar persons except
+through the mouths of those to whom had been committed the dispensation
+of the means of grace! Whatever wind might blow, except from their
+bellows, was, to Mr Cairns at least, not even of doubtful origin.
+Indeed the priests of every religion, taken in class, have been
+the slowest to recognize the wind of the spirit, and the quickest
+to tell whence the blowing came and whither it went--even should
+it have blown first on their side of the hedge. And how could it
+be otherwise? How should they recognize as a revival the motions of
+life unfelt in their own hearts, where it was most required? What
+could they know of doubts and fears, terrors and humiliations,
+agonies of prayer, ecstasies of relief, and thanksgiving, who
+regarded their high calling as a profession, with social claims
+and ecclesiastical rights; and even as such had so little respect
+for it that they talked of it themselves as the cloth? How could
+such a man as Mr Cairns, looking down from the height of his
+great soberness and the dignity of possessing the oracles and the
+ordinances, do other than contemn the enthusiasms and excitements
+of ignorant repentance? How could such as he recognize in the babble
+of babes the slightest indication of the revealing of truths hid
+from the wise and prudent; especially since their rejoicing also was
+that of babes, hence carnal, and accompanied by all the weaknesses
+and some of the vices which it had required the utmost energy of the
+prince of apostles to purge from one at least of the early churches?
+
+He might, however, have sought some foundation for a true judgment,
+in a personal knowledge of their doctrine and collective behaviour;
+but, instead of going to hear what the babblers had to say, and
+thus satisfying himself whether the leaders of the movement spoke
+the words of truth and soberness, or of discord and denial--
+whether their teaching and their prayers were on the side of order
+and law, or tending to sedition--he turned a ready ear to all
+the reports afloat concerning them, and, misjudging them utterly,
+made up his mind to use all lawful means for putting an end to
+their devotions and exhortations. One fact he either had not heard
+or made no account of--that the public houses in the villages
+whence these assemblies were chiefly gathered, had already come to
+be all but deserted.
+
+Alone, then, and unsupported by one of his brethren of the
+Presbytery, even of those who suffered like himself, he repaired
+to Lossie House, and laid before the marquis the whole matter from
+his point of view--that the tabernacles of the Lord were deserted
+for dens and caves of the earth; that fellows so void of learning
+as not to be able to put a sentence together, or talk decent English,
+(a censure at which Lord Lossie smiled, for his ears were accustomed
+to a different quality of English from that which now invaded them)
+took upon themselves to expound the Scriptures; that they taught
+antinomianism, (for which assertion, it must be confessed, there
+was some apparent ground) and were at the same time suspected of
+Arminianism and Anabaptism: that, in a word, they were a terrible
+disgrace to the godly and hitherto sober minded parishes in which
+the sect, if it might be dignified with even such a name, had sprung
+up.
+
+The marquis listened with much indifference, and some impatience:
+what did he or any other gentleman care about such things? Besides,
+he had a friendly feeling towards the fisher folk, and a decided
+disinclination to meddle with their liberty, either of action or
+utterance.*
+
+*[Ill, from all artistic points of view, as such a note comes
+in, I must, for reasons paramount to artistic considerations, remind
+my readers, that not only is the date of my story half a century
+or so back, but, dealing with principles, has hardly anything to
+do with actual events, and nothing at all with persons. The local
+skeleton of the story alone is taken from the real, and I had not
+a model, not to say an original, for one of the characters in it
+--except indeed Mrs Catanach's dog.]
+
+"But what have I to do with it, Mr Cairns?" he said, when the stream
+of the parson's utterance had at length ceased to flow. "I am not
+a theologian; and if I were, I do not see how that even would give
+me a right to interfere."
+
+"In such times of insubordination as these, my lord," said Mr
+Cairns, "when every cadger thinks himself as good as an earl, it
+is more than desirable that not a single foothold should be lost.
+There must be a general election soon, my lord. Besides, these men
+abuse your lordship's late hospitality, declaring it has had the
+worst possible influence on the morals of the people."
+
+A shadow of truth rendered this assertion the worse misrepresentation:
+no blame to the marquis had even been hinted at; the speakers had
+only animadverted on the fishermen who had got drunk on the occasion.
+
+"Still," said the marquis, smiling, for the reported libel did not
+wound him very deeply, "what ground of right have I to interfere?"
+
+"The shore is your property, my lord--every rock and every buckie
+(spiral shell) upon it; the caves are your own--every stone and
+pebble of them: you can prohibit all such assemblies."
+
+"And what good would that do? They would only curse me, and go
+somewhere else."
+
+"Where could they go, where the same law wouldn't hold, my lord?
+The coast is yours for miles and miles on both sides."
+
+"I don't know that it should be."
+
+"Why not, my lord? It has belonged to your family from time
+immemorial, and will belong to it, I trust, while the moon endureth."
+
+"They used to say," said the marquis thoughtfully, as if he were
+recalling something he had heard long ago, "that the earth was the
+Lord's."
+
+"This part of it is Lord Lossie's," said Mr Cairns, combining the
+jocular with the complimentary in one irreverence; but, as if to
+atone for the freedom he had taken--"The Deity has committed it
+to the great ones of the earth to rule for him," he added, with a
+devout obeisance to the delegate.
+
+Lord Lossie laughed inwardly.
+
+"You can even turn them out of their houses, if you please, my
+lord," he superadded.
+
+"God forbid!" said the marquis.
+
+"A threat--the merest hint of such a measure is all that would
+be necessary."
+
+"But are you certain of the truth of these accusations?"
+
+"My lord!"
+
+"Of course you believe them, or you would not repeat them, but it
+does not follow that they are fact."
+
+"They are matter of common report, my lord. What I have stated is
+in every one's mouth."
+
+"But you have not yourself heard any of their sermons, or what do
+they call them?"
+
+"No, my lord," said Mr Cairns, holding up his white hands in
+repudiation of the idea; "it would scarcely accord with my position
+to act the spy."
+
+"So, to keep yourself immaculate, you take all against them for
+granted! I have no such scruples, however. I will go and see, or
+rather hear, what they are about: after that I shall be in a position
+to judge."
+
+"Your lordship's presence will put them on their guard."
+
+"If the mere sight of me is a check," returned the marquis, "extreme
+measures will hardly be necessary."
+
+He spoke definitively, and made a slight movement, which his visitor
+accepted as his dismissal. He laughed aloud when the door closed,
+for the spirit of what the Germans call Schadenfreude was never
+far from his elbow, and he rejoiced in the parson's discomfiture.
+It was in virtue of his simplicity, precluding discomfiture, that
+Malcolm could hold his own with him so well. For him he now sent.
+
+"Well, MacPhail," he said kindly, as the youth entered, "how is
+that foot of yours getting on?"
+
+"Brawly, my lord; there's naething muckle the maitter wi' hit or
+me aither, noo 'at we're up. But I was jist nearhan' deid o' ower
+muckle bed."
+
+"Had n't you better come down out of that cockloft?" said the
+marquis, dropping his eyes.
+
+"Na, my lord; I dinna care aboot pairtin' wi' my neebour yet."
+
+"What neighbour?"
+
+"Ow, the auld warlock, or whatever it may be 'at hauds a reemish
+(romage) there."
+
+"What! is he troublesome next?
+
+"Ow, na!  no thinkin' 't; but 'deed I dinna ken, my lord!" said
+Malcolm.
+
+"What do you mean, then?"
+
+"Gien yer lordship wad aloo me to force yon door, I wad be better
+able to tell ye."
+
+"Then the old man is not quiet?"
+
+"There's something no quaiet."
+
+"Nonsense! It's all your imagination--depend on it."
+
+"I dinna think it."
+
+"What do you think, then? You're not afraid of ghosts, surely?"
+
+"No muckle. I hae naething mair upo' my conscience nor I can bide
+i' the deidest o' the nicht."
+
+"Then you think ghosts come of a bad conscience? A kind of moral
+delirium tremens--eh?"
+
+"I dinna ken, my lord; but that's the only kin' o' ghaist I wad
+be fleyed at--at least 'at I wad rin frae. I wad a heap raither
+hae a ghaist i' my hoose nor ane far'er benn. An ill man, or wuman,
+like Mistress Catanach, for enstance, 'at's a'boady, 'cep'
+what o' her 's deevil,"
+
+"Nonsense!" said the marquis, angrily; but Malcolm went on:
+
+"--maun be jist fu' o' ghaists! An' for onything I ken, that 'll
+be what maks ghaists o' themsel's efter they're deid, settin'
+them waukin', as they ca' 't. It's full waur nor bein' possessed
+wi' deevils, an' maun be a hantle mair ooncoamfortable.--But I
+wad hae yon door opent, my lord."
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed the marquis once more, and shrugged his
+shoulders. "You must leave that room. If I hear anything more about
+noises, or that sort of rubbish, I shall insist upon it.--I sent
+for you now, however, to ask you about these clandestine meetings
+of the fisher folk."
+
+"Clandestine, my lord? There's no clam aboot them, but the clams
+upo' the rocks."
+
+The marquis was not etymologist enough to understand Malcolm's poor
+pun, and doubtless thought it worse than it was.
+
+"I don't want any fooling," he said. "Of course you know these
+people?"
+
+"Ilka man, wuman, an' bairn o' them," answered Malcolm.
+
+"And what sort are they?"
+
+"Siclike as ye micht expec'."
+
+"That's not a very luminous answer."
+
+"Weel, they're nae waur nor ither fowk, to begin wi'; an' gien this
+hauds, they'll be better nor mony."
+
+"What sort are their leaders?"
+
+"Guid, respectable fowk, my lord."
+
+"Then there's not much harm in them?"
+
+"There's nane but what they wad fain be rid o'. I canna say as
+muckle for a' 'at hings on to them. There's o' them, nae doobt,
+wha wad fain win to h'aven ohn left their sins ahin' them; but they
+get nae encouragement frae Maister MacLeod. Blue Peter, 'at gangs
+oot wi' 's i' yer lordship's boat--he's ane o' their best men--
+though he never gangs ayont prayin',  tauld."
+
+"Which is far enough, surely," said his lordship, who, belonging to
+the Episcopal church, had a different idea concerning the relative
+dignities of preaching and praying.
+
+"Ay, for a body's sel', surely; but maybe no aye eneuch for ither
+fowk," answered Malcolm, always ready after his clumsy fashion.
+
+"Have you been to any of these meetings?"
+
+"I was at the first twa, my lord."
+
+"Why not more?"
+
+"I didna care muckle aboot them, an' I hae aye plenty to du. Besides,
+I can get mair oot o' Maister Graham wi' twa words o' a question
+nor the haill crew o' them could tell me atween this an' eternity."
+
+"Well, I am going to trust you," said the marquis slowly, with an
+air of question rather than of statement.
+
+"Ye may du that, my lord."
+
+"You mean I may with safety?"
+
+"I div mean that same, my lord."
+
+"You can hold your tongue then?"
+
+"I can, an' I wull my lord," said Malcolm; but added in haste, "--
+'cept it interfere wi' ony foregane agreement or nat'ral obligation."
+
+It must be borne in mind that Malcolm was in the habit of discussing
+all sorts of questions with Mr Graham: some of the formulae wrought
+out between them he had made himself thoroughly master of.
+
+"By Jupiter!" exclaimed the marquis, with a pause of amusement.
+"Well," he went on, "I suppose I must take you on your own terms.
+--They've been asking me to put a stop to these conventicles."
+
+"Wha has, my lord?"
+
+"That's my business."
+
+"Lat it be nae ither body's, my lord."
+
+"That's my intention. I told him I would go and myself."
+
+"Jist like yer lordship!"
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"I was aye sure ye was for fair play, my lord."
+
+"It's little enough I've ever had," said the marquis.
+
+"Sae lang's we gie plenty, my lord, it maitters less hoo muckle we
+get. A'body likes to get it."
+
+"That doctrine won't carry you far, my lad."
+
+"Far eneuch, gien 't cairry me throu', my lord."
+
+"How absolute the knave is!" said his lordship good humouredly. "--
+Well, but," he resumed, "--about these fishermen:  only afraid
+Mr Cairns was right."
+
+"What said he, my lord?"
+
+"That, when they saw me there, they would fit their words to my
+ears."
+
+"I ken them better nor ony black coat atween Cromarty an' Peterheid;
+an' I can tell yer lordship there winna be ae word o' differ for
+your bein' there."
+
+"If only I could be there and not there both at once! There's no
+other sure mode of testing your assertion. What a pity the only
+thorough way should be an impossible one!"
+
+"To a' practical purpose, it 's easy eneuch, my lord. Jist gang ohn
+be seen the first nicht, an' the neist gang in a co'ch an' fower.
+Syne compaur."
+
+"Quite satisfactory, no doubt, if I could bring myself to do it;
+but, though I said I would, I don't like to interfere so far even
+as to go at all."
+
+"At ony public meetin', my lord, ye hae as guid a richt to be present,
+as the puirest body i' the lan'. An' forbye that, as lord o' the
+place, ye hae a richt to ken what's gaein' on: I dinna ken hoo far
+the richt o' interferin' gangs; that's anither thing a'thegither."
+
+"I see you're a thorough going rebel yourself."
+
+"Naething o' the kind, my lord.  only sae far o' yer lordship's
+min' 'at I like fair play--gien a body could only be aye richt
+sure what was fair play!"
+
+"Yes, there's the very point!--certainly, at least, when the
+question comes to be of eavesdropping--not to mention that I
+could never condescend to play the spy."
+
+"What a body has a richt to hear, he may hear as he likes--either
+shawin' himsel' or hidin' himsel'. An' it 's the only plan 'at 's
+fair to them, my lord. It's no 's gien yer lordship was lyin' in
+wait to du them a mischeef: ye want raither to du them a kin'ness,
+an' tak their pairt."
+
+"I don't know that, Malcolm. It depends."
+
+"It's plain yer lordship's prejudeezed i' their fawvour. Ony. gait
+ sartin it 's fair play ye want; an' I canna for the life o' me
+see a hair o' wrang i' yer lordship's gaein' in a cogue, as auld
+Tammy Dyster ca's 't; for, at the warst, ye cud only interdick
+them, an' that ye cud du a' the same, whether ye gaed or no. An',
+gien ye be sae wulled, I can tak you an' my leddy whaur ye 'll hear
+ilka word 'at 's uttered, an' no a body get a glimp o' ye, mair
+nor gien ye was sittin' at yer ain fireside as ye are the noo."
+
+"That does make a difference!" said the marquis, a great part of
+whose unwillingness arose from the dread of discovery. "It would
+be very amusing."
+
+"I'll no promise ye that," returned Malcolm. "I dinna ken aboot
+that.--There's jist ae objection hooever: ye wad hae to gang a
+guid hoor afore they begoud to gaither.--An' there's aye laadies
+aboot the place sin' they turned it intill a kirk!" he added
+thoughtfully. "But," he resumed, "we cud manage them."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I wad get my gran'father to strik' up wi' a spring upo' the pipes,
+o' the other side o' the bored craig--or lat aff a shot of the
+sweevil: they wad a' rin to see, an' i' the meantime we cud lan'
+ye frae the cutter. We wad hae ye in an' oot o' sicht in a moment
+--Blue Peter an' me--as quaiet as gien ye war ghaists, an' the
+hoor midnicht."
+
+The marquis was persuaded, but objected to the cutter. They would
+walk there, he said. So it was arranged that Malcolm should take
+him and Lady Florimel to the Baillies' Barn the very next time the
+fishermen had a meeting.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI: THE BAILLIES' BARN
+
+
+Lady Florimel was delighted at the prospect of such an adventure.
+The evening arrived. An hour before the time appointed for the meeting,
+the three issued from the tunnel, and passed along the landward
+side of the dune, towards the promontory. There sat the piper on
+the swivel, ready to sound a pibroch the moment they should have
+reached the shelter of the bored craig--his signal being Malcolm's
+whistle. The plan answered perfectly. In a few minutes, all the
+children within hearing were gathered about Duncan--a rarer sight
+to them than heretofore--and the way was clear to enter unseen.
+
+It was already dusk, and the cave was quite dark, but Malcolm
+lighted a candle, and, with a little difficulty, got them up into
+the wider part of the cleft, where he had arranged comfortable
+seats with plaids and cushions. As soon as they were placed, he
+extinguished the light.
+
+"I wish you would tell us another story, Malcolm," said Lady
+Florimel.
+
+"Do," said the marquis "the place is not consecrated yet."
+
+"Did ye ever hear the tale o' the auld warlock, my leddy?" asked
+Malcolm. "Only my lord kens 't!" he added.
+
+"I don't," said Lady Florimel.
+
+"It's great nonsense," said the marquis.
+
+"Do let us have it, papa."
+
+"Very well. I don't mind hearing it again." He wanted to see how
+Malcolm would embellish it.
+
+"It seems to me," said Malcolm, "that this ane aboot Lossie Hoose'
+an' yon ane aboot Colonsay Castel, are verra likly but twa stalks
+frae the same rute. Ony gate, this ane aboot the warlock maun be the
+auldest o' the twa. Ye s' hae 't sic 's I hae 't mysel'. Mistress
+Coorthoup taul' 't to me."
+
+It was after his own more picturesque fashion, however, that he
+recounted the tale of Lord Gernon.
+
+As the last words left his lips, Lady Florimel gave a startled cry,
+seized him by the arm, and crept close to him. The marquis jumped
+to his feet, knocked his head against the rock, uttered an oath,
+and sat down again.
+
+"What ails ye, my leddy!" said Malcolm. "There's naething here to
+hurt ye."
+
+"I saw a face," she said, "a white face!"
+
+"Whaur?"
+
+"Beyond you a little way--near the ground," she answered, in a
+tremulous whisper.
+
+"It's as dark's pick!" said Malcolm, as if thinking it to himself.
+--He knew well enough that it must be the laird or Phemy, but he
+was anxious the marquis should not learn the secret of the laird's
+refuge.
+
+"I saw a face anyhow," said Florimel. "It gleamed white for one
+moment, and then vanished."
+
+"I wonner ye didna cry oot waur, my leddy," said Malcolm, peering
+into the darkness.
+
+"I was too frightened. It looked so ghastly!--not more than a
+foot from the ground."
+
+"Cud it hae been a flash, like, frae yer ain een ?"
+
+"No I am sure it was a face."
+
+"How much is there of this cursed hole?" asked the marquis; rubbing
+the top of his head.
+
+"A heap," answered Malcolm. "The grun' gangs down like a brae ahin'
+'s, intil a--"
+
+"You don't mean right behind us?" cried the marquis.
+
+"Nae jist doss, my lord. We're sittin' i' the mou' o' 't, like, wi'
+the thrapple (throat) o' 't ahin' 's, an' a muckle stamach ayont
+that."
+
+"I hope there's no danger," said the marquis.
+
+"Nane 'at I ken o'."
+
+"No water at the bottom ?"
+
+"Nane, my lord--that is, naething but a bonny spring i' the rock
+side."
+
+"Come away, papa!" cried Florimel. "I don't like it. I've had enough
+of this kind of thing."
+
+"Nonsense!" said the marquis, still rubbing his head.
+
+"Ye wad spile a', my leddy! It's ower late, forbye," said Malcolm;
+"I hear a fut."
+
+He rose and peeped out, but drew back instantly, saying in a whisper:
+
+"It's Mistress Catanach wi' a lantren! Haud yer tongue, my bonny
+leddy; ye ken weel she's no mowse. Dinna try to leuk, my lord; she
+micht get a glimp o' ye--she's terrible gleg. I hae been hearin'
+mair yet aboot her. Yer lordship 's ill to convence, but depen'
+upo' 't, whaurever that woman is, there there's mischeef! Whaur
+she taks a scunner at a body, she hates like the verra deevil. She
+winna aye lat them ken 't, but taks time to du her ill turns. An'
+it 's no that only, but gien she gets a haud o' onything agane
+anybody, she'll save 't up upo' the chance o' their giein' her
+some offence afore they dee. She never lowses haud o' the tail o'
+a thing, an' at her ain proaper time, she's in her natur' bun' to
+mak the warst use o' 't."
+
+Malcolm was anxious both to keep them still, and to turn aside any
+further inquiry as to the face Florimel had seen. Again he peeped
+out.
+
+"What is she efter noo? she's comin' this gait," he went on, in
+a succession of whispers, turning his head back over his shoulder
+when he spoke. "Gien she thoucht ther was a hole i' the perris she
+didna ken a' the oots an' ins o', it wad baud her ohn sleepit.--
+Weesht! weesht! here she comes!" he concluded, after a listening
+pause, in the silence of which he could hear her step approaching.
+
+He stretched out his neck over the ledge, and saw her coming
+straight for the back of the cave, looking right before her with
+slow moving, keen, wicked eyes. It was impossible to say what made
+them look wicked: neither in form, colour, motion, nor light, were
+they ugly--yet in everyone of these they looked wicked, as her
+lantern, which, being of horn, she had opened for more light, now
+and then, as it swung in her hand, shone upon her pale, pulpy, evil
+countenance.
+
+"Gien she tries to come up, I'll hae to caw her doon," he said to
+himself, "an' I dinna like it, for she's a wuman efter a', though
+a deevilich kin' o' a ane; but there's my leddy! I hae broucht her
+intill 't, an' I maun see her safe oot o' 't!"
+
+But if Mrs. Catanach was bent on an exploration, she was for the
+time prevented from prosecuting it by the approach of the first of
+the worshippers, whose voices they now plainly heard. She retreated
+towards the middle of the cave, and sat down in a dark corner,
+closing her lantern and hiding it with the skirt of her long cloak.
+Presently a good many entered at once, some carrying lanterns, and
+most of them tallow candles, which they quickly lighted and disposed
+about the walls. The rest of the congregation, with its leaders,
+came trooping in so fast, that in ten minutes or so the service
+began.
+
+As soon as the singing commenced, Malcolm whispered to Lady Florimel,
+"Was 't a man's face or a lassie's ye saw, my leddy?"
+
+"A man's face--the same we saw in the storm," she answered, and
+Malcolm felt her shudder as she spoke.
+
+"It's naething but the mad laird," he said. "He 's better nor
+hairmless. Dinna say a word to yer father my leddy. I dinna like
+to say that, but I 'll tell ye a' what for efterhin'."
+
+But Florimel, knowing that her father had a horror of lunatics,
+was willing enough to be silent.
+
+No sooner was her terror thus assuaged, than the oddities of the
+singing laid hold upon her, stirring up a most tyrannous impulse
+to laughter. The prayer that followed made it worse. In itself the
+prayer was perfectly reverent, and yet, for dread of irreverence,
+I must not attempt a representation of the forms of its embodiment,
+or the manner of its utterance.
+
+So uncontrollable did her inclination to merriment become, that she
+found at last the only way to keep from bursting into loud laughter
+was to slacken the curb, and go off at a canter--I mean, to laugh
+freely but gently. This so infected her father, that he straightway
+accompanied her, but with more noise. Malcolm sat in misery, from
+the fear not so much of discovery, though that would be awkward
+enough, as of the loss to the laird of his best refuge. But when
+he reflected, he doubted much whether it was even now a safe one;
+and, anyhow, knew it would be as vain to remonstrate as to try to
+stop the noise of a brook by casting pebbles into it.
+
+When it came to the sermon, however, things went better; for MacLeod
+was the preacher,--an eloquent man after his kind, in virtue of
+the genuine earnestness of which he was full. If his anxiety for
+others appeared to be rather to save them from the consequences of
+their sins, his main desire for himself certainly was to be delivered
+from evil; the growth of his spiritual nature, while it rendered
+him more and more dissatisfied with himself, had long left behind
+all fear save of doing wrong. His sermon this evening was founded on
+the text: "The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit
+of God." He spoke fervently and persuasively; nor, although his
+tone and accent were odd, and his Celtic modes and phrases to those
+Saxon ears outlandish, did these peculiarities in the least injure
+the influence of the man. Even from Florimel was the demon of
+laughter driven; and the marquis, although not a single notion of
+what the man intended passed through the doors of his understanding,
+sat quiet, and disapproved of nothing. Possibly, had he been alone
+as he listened, he too, like one of old, might have heard, in the
+dark cave, the still small voice of a presence urging him forth
+to the light; but, as it was, the whole utterance passed without
+a single word or phrase or sentence having roused a thought,
+or suggested a doubt, or moved a question, or hinted an objection
+or a need of explanation. That the people present should interest
+themselves in such things, only set before him the folly of mankind.
+The text and the preacher both kept telling him that such as he
+could by no possibility have the slightest notion what such things
+were; but not the less did he, as if he knew all about them, wonder
+how the deluded fisher folk could sit and listen. The more tired
+he grew, the more angry he got with the parson who had sent him
+there with his foolery: and the more convinced that the men who
+prayed and preached were as honest as they were silly; and that
+the thing to die of itself had only to be let alone. He heard the
+Amen of the benediction with a sigh of relief, and rose at once--
+cautiously this time.
+
+"Ye maunna gang yet, my lord," said Malcolm. "They maun be a' oot
+first."
+
+"I don't care who sees me," protested the weary man.
+
+"But yer lordship wadna like to be descriet scram'lin' doon efter
+the back like the bear in Robinson Crusoe!"
+
+The marquis grumbled, and yielded impatiently.
+
+At length Malcolm, concluding from the silence that the meeting had
+thoroughly skailed, peeped cautiously out to make sure. But after
+a moment, he drew back, saying in a regretful whisper,
+
+" sorry ye canna gang yet, my lord. There's some half a dizzen
+o' ill luikin' chields, cairds (gipsies),  thinkin', or maybe
+waur, congregat doon there, an' it 's my opinion they're efter nae
+guid, my lord."
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"Ony body wad ken that, 'at got a glimp o' them."
+
+"Let me look."
+
+"Na, my lord; ye dinna understan' the lie o' the stanes eneuch to
+haud oot o' sicht."
+
+"How long do you mean to keep us here?" asked the marquis impatiently.
+
+"Till it 's safe to gang, my lord. For onything I ken, they may be
+efter comin' up here. They may be used to the place--though I
+dinna think it."
+
+"In that case we must go down at once. We must not let them find
+us here."
+
+"They wad tak 's ane by ane as we gaed doon, my lord, an' we wadna
+hae a chance. Think o' my leddy there!"
+
+Florimel heard all, but with the courage of her race.
+
+"This is a fine position you have brought us into, MacPhail!" said
+his master, now thoroughly uneasy for his daughter's sake.
+
+"Nae waur nor I 'll tak ye oot o', gien ye lippen to me, my lord,
+an' no speyk a word."
+
+"If you tell them who papa is," said Florimel, "they won't do us
+any harm, surely!"
+
+" nane sae sure o' that.  They micht want to ripe 's pooches
+(search his pockets), an' my lord wad ill stan' that,  thinkin'!
+Na, na. Jist stan' ye back, my lord an' my leddy, an' dinna speyk
+a word. I s' sattle them. They're sic villains, there nae terms to
+be hauden wi' them."
+
+His lordship was far from satisfied; but a light shining up into
+the crevice at the moment, gave powerful support to Malcolm's
+authority: he took Florimel's hand and drew her a little farther
+from the mouth of the cave.
+
+"Don't you wish we had Demon with us?" whispered the girl.
+
+"I was thinking how I never went without a dagger in Venice," said
+the marquis, "and never once had occasion to use it. Now I haven't
+even a penknife about me! It looks very awkward."
+
+"Please don't talk like that," said Florimel. "Can't you trust
+Malcolm, papa?"
+
+"Oh, yes; perfectly!" he answered; but the tone was hardly up to
+the words.
+
+They could see the dim figure of Malcolm, outlined in fits of the
+approaching light, all but filling the narrow entrance, as he bent
+forward to listen. Presently he laid himself down, leaning on his
+left elbow, with his right shoulder only a little above the level
+of the passage. The light came nearer, and they heard the sound
+of scrambling on the rock, but no voice; then for one moment the
+light shone clear upon the roof of the cleft; the next, came the
+sound of a dull blow, the light vanished, and the noise of a heavy
+fall came from beneath.
+
+"Ane o' them, my lord," said Malcolm, in a sharp whisper, over his
+shoulder.
+
+A confusion of voices arose.
+
+"You booby!" said one. "You climb like a calf. I'll go next."
+
+Evidently they thought he had slipped and fallen, and he was unable
+to set them right. Malcolm heard them drag him out of the way.
+
+The second ascended more rapidly, and met his fate the sooner.
+As he delivered the blow, Malcolm recognized one of the laird's
+assailants, and was now perfectly at his ease.
+
+"Twa o' them, my lord," he said. "Gien we had ane mair doon, we
+cud manage the lave."
+
+The second, however, had not lost his speech, and amidst the
+confused talk that followed, Malcolm heard the words: "Rin doon to
+the coble for the gun," and, immediately after, the sound of feet
+hurrying from the cave. He rose quietly, leaped into the midst of
+them, came down upon one, and struck out right and left. Two ran,
+and three lay where they were.
+
+"Gien ane o' ye muv han' or fit, I'll brain him wi' 's ain stick,"
+he cried, as he wrenched a cudgel from the grasp of one of them.
+Then catching up a lantern, and hurrying behind the projecting rock
+--"Haste ye, an' come," he shouted. "The w'y 's clear, but only
+for a meenute."
+
+Florimel appeared, and Malcolm got her down.
+
+"Mind that fellow," cried the marquis from above.
+
+Malcolm turned quickly, and saw the gleam of a knife in the grasp
+of his old enemy, who had risen, and crept behind him to the recess.
+He flung the lantern in his face, following it with a blow in which
+were concentrated all the weight and energy of his frame. The man
+went down again heavily, and Malcolm instantly trampled all their
+lanterns to pieces.
+
+"Noo," he said to himself, "they winna ken but it 's the laird an'
+Phemy wi' me!"
+
+Then turning, and taking Florimel by the arm, he hurried her out
+of the cave, followed by the marquis.
+
+They emerged in the liquid darkness of a starry night. Lady Florimel
+clung to both her father and Malcolm. It was a rough way for some
+little distance, but at length they reached the hard wet sand,
+and the marquis would have stopped to take breath; but Malcolm was
+uneasy, and hurried them on.
+
+"What are you frightened at now?" asked his lordship.
+
+"Naething," answered Malcolm, adding to himself however, "
+fleyt at naethin'-- fleyt for the laird."
+
+As they approached the tunnel, he fell behind.
+
+"Why don't you come on?" said his lordship.
+
+" gaein' back noo 'at ye're safe," said Malcolm.
+
+"Going back! What for?" asked the marquis.
+
+"I maun see what thae villains are up till," answered Malcolm.
+
+"Not alone, surely!" exclaimed the marquis. "At least get some of
+your people to go with you."
+
+"there's nae time, my lord. Dinna be fleyt for me: I s' tak care
+o' mysel'."
+
+He was already yards away, running at full speed. The marquis
+shouted after him, but Malcolm would not hear.
+
+When he reached the Baillies' Barn once more, all was still. He
+groped his way in and found his own lantern where they had been
+sitting, and having lighted it, descended and followed the windings
+of the cavern a long way, but saw nothing of the laird or Phemy.
+Coming at length to a spot where he heard the rushing of a stream,
+he found he could go no farther: the roof of the cave had fallen,
+and blocked up the way with huge masses of stone and earth. He had
+come a good distance certainly, but by no means so far as Phemy's
+imagination had represented the reach of the cavern. He might
+however have missed a turn, he thought.
+
+The sound he heard was that of the Lossie Burn, flowing along in
+the starlight through the grounds of the House. Of this he satisfied
+himself afterwards; and then it seemed to him not unlikely that
+in ancient times the river had found its way to the sea along the
+cave, for throughout its length the action of water was plainly
+visible. But perhaps the sea itself had used to go roaring along the
+great duct: Malcolm was no geologist, and could not tell.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII: MRS STEWART'S CLAIM
+
+
+The weather became unsettled with the approach of winter, and the
+marquis had a boat house built at the west end of the Seaton: there
+the little cutter was laid up, well wrapt in tarpaulins, like a
+butterfly returned to the golden coffin of her internatal chrysalis.
+A great part of his resulting leisure, Malcolm spent with Mr Graham,
+to whom he had, as a matter of course, unfolded the trouble caused
+him by Duncan's communication.
+
+The more thoughtful a man is, and the more conscious of what is
+going on within himself, the more interest will he take in what
+he can know of his progenitors, to the remotest generations; and a
+regard to ancestral honours, however contemptible the forms which
+the appropriation of them often assumes, is a plant rooted in the
+deepest soil of humanity. The high souled labourer will yield to
+none in his respect for the dignity of his origin, and Malcolm had
+been as proud of the humble descent he supposed his own, as Lord
+Lossie was of his mighty ancestry. Malcolm had indeed a loftier
+sense of resulting dignity than his master.
+
+He reverenced Duncan both for his uprightness and for a certain
+grandeur of spirit, which, however ridiculous to the common eye,
+would have been glorious in the eyes of the chivalry of old; he
+looked up to him with admiration because of his gifts in poetry
+and music; and loved him endlessly for his unfailing goodness and
+tenderness to himself. Even the hatred of the grand old man had
+an element of unselfishness in its retroaction, of power in its
+persistency, and of greatness in its absolute contempt of compromise.
+At the same time he was the only human being to whom Malcolm's
+heart had gone forth as to his own; and now, with the knowledge of
+yet deeper cause for loving him, he had to part with the sense of
+a filial relation to him! And this involved more; for so thoroughly
+had the old man come to regard the boy as his offspring, that he
+had nourished in him his own pride of family; and it added a sting
+of mortification to Malcolm's sorrow, that the greatness of the
+legendary descent in which he had believed, and the honourableness
+of the mournful history with which his thoughts of himself had been
+so closely associated, were swept from him utterly. Nor was this
+all even yet: in losing these he had had, as it were, to let go his
+hold, not of his clan merely, but of his race: every link of kin
+that bound him to humanity had melted away from his grasp. Suddenly
+he would become aware that his heart was sinking within him, and
+questioning it why, would learn anew that he was alone in the world,
+a being without parents, without sister or brother, with none to
+whom he might look in the lovely confidence of a right bequeathed
+by some common mother, near or afar. He had waked into being,
+but all around him was dark, for there was no window, that is, no
+kindred eye, by which the light of the world whence he had come,
+entering might console him.
+
+But a gulf of blackness was about to open at his feet, against
+which the darkness he now lamented would show purple and gray.
+
+One afternoon, as he passed through the Seaton from the harbour,
+to have a look at the cutter, he heard the Partaness calling after
+him.
+
+"Weel, ye're a sicht for sair een--noo 'at ye're like to turn
+oot something worth luikin' at!" she cried, as he approached with
+his usual friendly smile.
+
+"What du ye mean by that, Mistress Findlay?" asked Malcolm, carelessly
+adding: "Is yer man in?"
+
+"Ay!" she went on, without heeding either question; "ye'll be gran'
+set up noo! Ye'll no be hain' 'a fine day' to fling at yer auld
+freen's, the puir fisher fowk, or lang! Weel! it 's the w'y o' the
+warl! Hech, sirs!"
+
+"What on earth 's set ye aff like that Mrs Findlay?" said Malcolm.
+"It's nae sic a feerious (furious) gran' thing to be my lord's
+skipper--or henchman, as my daddy wad hae 't--surely! It's a
+heap gran'er like to be a free fisherman, wi' a boat o' yer ain,
+like the Partan."
+
+"Hoots! Nane o' yer clavers! Ye ken weel eneuch what I mean--as
+weel 's ilka ither creatit sowl o' Portlossie. An' gien ye dinna
+chowse to lat on aboot it till an auld freen' cause she's naething
+but a fisherwife, it 's dune ye mair skaith a'ready nor I thocht it
+wad to the lang last, Ma'colm--for it 's yer ain name I s' ca'
+ye yet, gien ye war ten times a laird!--didna I gie ye the breist
+whan ye cud du naething i' the wardle but sowk?--An' weel ye
+sowkit, puir innocent 'at ye was!"
+
+"As sure's we're baith alive," asseverated Malcolm, "I ken nae mair
+nor a sawtit herrin' what ye're drivin' at."
+
+"Tell me 'at ye dinna ken what a' the queentry kens--an' hit
+aboot yer ain sel'!" screamed the Partaness.
+
+"I tell ye I ken naething; an' gien ye dinna tell me what ye're
+efter direckly, I s' haud awa' to Mistress Allison--she'll tell
+me."
+
+This was a threat sufficiently prevailing.
+
+"It's no in natur'!" she cried. "Here's Mistress Stewart o' the
+Gersefell been cawin' (driving) like mad aboot the place, in her
+cairriage an' hoo mony horse I dinna ken, declarin', ay, sweirin',
+they tell me, 'at ane cowmonly ca'd Ma'colm MacPhail is neither
+mair nor less nor the son born o' her ain boady in honest wadlock!
+--an' tell me ye ken naething aboot it! What are ye stan'in' like
+that for--as gray mou'd 's a deein' skate?"
+
+For the first time in his life, Malcolm, young and strong as he was,
+felt sick. Sea and sky grew dim before him, and the earth seemed
+to reel under him. "I dinna believe 't," he faltered--and turned
+away.
+
+"Ye dinna believe what I tell ye!" screeched the wrathful Partaness.
+"Ye daur to say the word!"
+
+But Malcolm did not care to reply. He wandered away, half unconscious
+of where he was, his head hanging, and his eyes creeping over the
+ground. The words of the woman kept ringing in his ears; but ever
+and anon, behind them as it were in the depth of his soul, he heard
+the voice of the mad laird, with its one lamentation: "I dinna ken
+whaur I cam' frae." Finding himself at length at Mr Graham's door,
+he wondered how he had got there.
+
+It was Saturday afternoon, and the master was in the churchyard.
+Startled by Malcolm's look, he gazed at him in grave silent enquiry.
+
+"Hae ye h'ard the ill news, sir?" said the youth.
+
+"No;  sorry to hear there is any."
+
+"They tell me Mistress Stewart's rinnin' aboot the toon claimin'
+me!"
+
+"Claiming you!--How do you mean?"
+
+"For her ain!"
+
+"Not for her son?"
+
+"Ay, sir--that's what they say. But ye haena h'ard o' 't?"
+
+"Not a word."
+
+"Then I believe it 's a' havers!" cried Malcolm energetically. "It
+was sair eneuch upo' me a'ready to ken less o' whaur I cam frae
+than the puir laird himsel'; but to come frae whaur he cam frae,
+was a thocht ower sair!"
+
+"You don't surely despise the poor fellow so much as to scorn to
+have the same parents with him!" said Mr Graham.
+
+"The verra contrar', sir. But a wuman wha wad sae misguide the son
+o' her ain body, an' for naething but that, as she had broucht him
+furth, sic he was!--it 's no to be lichtly believed nor lichtly
+endured. I s' awa' to Miss Horn an' see whether she's h'ard ony
+sic leeing clashes."
+
+But as Malcolm uttered her name, his heart sank within him, for
+their talk the night he had sought her hospitality for the laird,
+came back to his memory, burning like an acrid poison.
+
+"You can't do better," said Mr Graham. "The report itself may be
+false--or true, and the lady mistaken."
+
+"She'll hae to pruv 't weel afore I say haud," rejoined Malcolm.
+
+"And suppose she does?"
+
+"In that case," said Malcolm, with a composure almost ghastly, "a
+man maun tak what mither it pleases God to gie him. But faith! she
+winna du wi' me as wi' the puir laird. Gien she taks me up, she'll
+repent 'at she didna lat me lie. She'll be as little pleased wi'
+the tane o' her sons as the tither--I can tell her, ohn propheseed!"
+
+"But think what you might do between mother and son," suggested
+the master, willing to reconcile him to the possible worst.
+
+"It's ower late for that," he answered. "The puir man's thairms
+(fiddle-strings) are a' hingin' lowse, an' there's no grip eneuch
+i' the pegs to set them up again. He wad but think I had gane ower
+to the enemy, an' haud oot o' my gait as eident (diligently) as he
+hauds oot o' hers. Na, it wad du naething for him. Gien 't warna
+for what I see in him, I wad hae a gran' rebutter to her claim;
+for hoo cud ony wuman's ain son hae sic a scunner at her as I hae
+i' my hert an' brain an' verra stamach? Gien she war my ain mither,
+there bude to be some nait'ral drawin's atween 's, a body wad think.
+But it winna haud, for there's the laird! The verra name o' mither
+gars him steik his lugs an' rin."
+
+"Still, if she be your mother, it 's for better for worse as much
+as if she had been your own choice."
+
+"I kenna weel hoo it cud be for waur," said Malcolm, who did not
+yet, even from his recollection of the things Miss Horn had said,
+comprehend what worst threatened him.
+
+"It does seem strange," said the master thoughtfully, after a
+pause, "that some women should be allowed to be mothers that through
+them sons and daughters of God should come into the world--thief
+babies, say! human parasites, with no choice but feed on the social
+body!"
+
+"I wonner what God thinks aboot it a'! It gars a body spier whether
+he cares or no," said Malcolm gloomily.
+
+"It does," responded Mr Graham solemnly.
+
+"Div ye alloo that, sir?" returned Malcolm aghast. "That soon's as
+gien a'thing war rushin' thegither back to the auld chaos."
+
+"I should not be surprised," continued the master, apparently
+heedless of Malcolm's consternation, "if the day should come when
+well meaning men, excellent in the commonplace, but of dwarfed
+imagination, refused to believe in a God on the ground of apparent
+injustice in the very frame and constitution of things. Such would
+argue, that there might be either an omnipotent being who did not
+care, or a good being who could not help; but that there could not
+be a being both all good and omnipotent, for such would never have
+suffered things to be as they are."
+
+"What wad the clergy say to hear ye, sir?" said Malcolm, himself
+almost trembling at the words of his master.
+
+"Nothing to the purpose, I fear. They would never face the
+question. I know what they would do if they could,--burn me, as
+their spiritual ancestor, Calvin, would have done--whose shoe
+latchet they are yet not worthy to unloose. But mind, my boy, you've
+not heard me speak my thought on the matter at all."
+
+"But wadna 't be better to believe in twa Gods nor nane ava'?"
+propounded Malcolm; "ane a' guid, duin' the best for 's he cud,
+the ither a' ill, but as pooerfu' as the guid ane--an' forever
+an' aye a fecht atween them, whiles ane gettin' the warst o' 't, an
+whiles the ither? It wad quaiet yer hert ony gait, an' the battle
+o' Armageddon wad gang on as gran' 's ever."
+
+"Two Gods there could not be," said Mr Graham. "Of the two beings
+supposed, the evil one must be called devil were he ten times the
+more powerful."
+
+"Wi' a' my hert!" responded Malcolm.
+
+"But I agree with you," the master went on, that "Manicheism
+is unspeakably better than atheism, and unthinkably better than
+believing in an unjust God. But I am not driven to such a theory."
+
+"Hae ye ane o' yer ain 'at 'll fit, sir?"
+
+"If I knew of a theory in which was never an uncompleted arch
+or turret, in whose circling wall was never a ragged breach, that
+theory I should know but to avoid: such gaps are the eternal windows
+through which the dawn shall look in. A complete theory is a vault
+of stone around the theorist--whose very being yet depends on
+room to grow."
+
+"Weel, I wad like to hear what ye hae agane Manicheism!"
+
+"The main objection of theologians would be, I presume, that it did
+not present a God perfect in power as in goodness; but I think it
+a far more objectionable point that it presents evil as possessing
+power in itself. My chief objection, however, would be a far deeper
+one--namely, that its good being cannot be absolutely good; for,
+if he knew himself unable to insure the well being of his creatures,
+if he could not avoid exposing them to such foreign attack, had
+he a right to create them? Would he have chosen such a doubtful
+existence for one whom he meant to love absolutely?--Either,
+then, he did not love like a God, or he would not have created."
+
+"He micht ken himsel' sure to win i' the lang rin."
+
+"Grant the same to the God of the Bible, and we come back to where
+we were before."
+
+"Does that satisfee yersel', Maister Graham?" asked Malcolm, looking
+deep into the eyes of his teacher.
+
+"Not at all," answered the master.
+
+"Does onything?"
+
+"Yes: but I will not say more on the subject now. The time may
+come when I shall have to speak that which I have learned, but it
+is not yet. All I will say now is, that I am at peace concerning
+the question. Indeed, so utterly do I feel myself the offspring of
+the One, that it would be enough for my peace now--I don't say
+it would have been always--to know my mind troubled on a matter:
+what troubled me would trouble God: my trouble at the seeming wrong
+must have its being in the right existent in him. In him, supposing
+I could find none I should yet say there must lie a lucent, harmonious,
+eternal, not merely consoling, but absolutely satisfying solution."
+
+"Winna ye tell me a' 'at 's in yer hert aboot it, sir?"
+
+"Not now, my boy. You have got one thing to mind now--before all
+other things--namely, that you give this woman--whatever she
+be--fair play: if she be your mother, as such you must take her,
+that is, as such you must treat her."
+
+"ye're richt, sir," returned Malcolm, and rose.
+
+"Come back to me," said Mr Graham, "with whatever news you gather."
+
+"I will, sir," answered Malcolm, and went to find Miss Horn. He was
+shown into the little parlour, which, for all the grander things
+he had been amongst of late, had lost nothing of its first charm.
+There sat Miss Horn.
+
+"Sit doon, Ma'colm," she said gruffly.
+
+"Hae ye h'ard onything, mem?" asked Malcolm, standing.
+
+"Ower muckle," answered Miss Horn, with all but a scowl. "Ye been
+ower to Gersefell, I reckon."
+
+"Forbid it!" answered Malcolm. "Never till this hoor--or at maist
+it 's nae twa sin' I h'ard the first cheep o' 't, an' that was frae
+Meg Partan. To nae human sowl hae I made mention o' 't yet 'cep'
+Maister Graham: to him I gaed direck."
+
+"Ye cudna hae dune better," said the grim woman, with relaxing
+visage.
+
+"An' here I am the noo, straucht frae him, to beg o' you, Miss
+Horn, to tell me the trowth o' the maitter."
+
+"What ken I aboot it?" she returned angrily. "What sud I ken?"
+
+"Ye micht ken whether the wuman's been sayin' 't or no."
+
+"Wha has ony doobt aboot that?"
+
+"Mistress Stewart has been sayin' she's my mither, than?"
+
+"Ay--what for no?" returned Miss Horn, with a piercing glower at
+the youth.
+
+"Guid forfen'!" exclaimed Malcolm.
+
+"Say ye that, laddie?" cried Miss Horn, and, starting up, she
+grasped his arm and stood gazing in his face.
+
+"What ither sud I say?" rejoined Malcolm, surprised.
+
+"God be laudit!" exclaimed Miss Horn. "The limmer may say 'at she
+likes noo."
+
+"Ye dinna believe 't than, mem?" cried Malcolm. "Tell me ye dinna,
+an' haud me ohn curst like a cadger."
+
+"I dinna believe ae word o' 't, laddie," answered Miss Horn eagerly.
+"Wha cud believe sic a fine laad come o' sic a fause mither?"
+
+"She micht be ony body's mither, an' fause tu," said Malcolm
+gloomily.
+
+"That's true laddie; and the mair mither the fauser! There's a warl'
+o' witness i' your face 'at gien she be yer mither, the markis, an
+no puir honest hen peckit John Stewart, was the father o' ye.--
+The Lord forgie' me! what am I sayin'!" adjected Miss Horn, with
+a cry of self accusation, when she saw the pallor that overspread
+the countenance of the youth, and his head drop upon his bosom: the
+last arrow had sunk to the feather. "It's a' havers, ony gait," she
+quickly resumed. "I div not believe ye hae ae drap o' her bluid i'
+the body o' ye, man. But," she hurried on, as if eager to obliterate
+the scoring impression of her late words--"that she's been sayin'
+'t, there can be no mainner o' doot. I saw her mysel' rinnin' aboot
+the toon, frae ane till anither, wi' her lang hair doon the lang
+back o' her, an' fleein' i' the win', like a body dementit. The
+only question is, whether or no she believes 't hersel'."
+
+"What cud gar her say 't gien she didna believe 't?"
+
+"Fowk says she expecs that w'y to get a grip o' things oot o' the
+han's o' the puir laird's trustees: ye wad be a son o' her ain,
+cawpable o' mainagin' them. But ye dinna tell me she's never been
+at yersel' aboot it?"
+
+"Never a blink o' the ee has passed atween's sin' that day I gaed
+till Gersefell, as I tellt ye, wi' a letter frae the markis. I
+thoucht I was ower mony for her than: I wonner she daur be at me
+again."
+
+"she's daurt her God er' noo, an' may weel daur you.--But what
+says yer gran'father till 't, no?"
+
+"He hasna hard a chuckie's cheep o' 't."
+
+"What are we haverin' at than! Canna he sattle the maitter aff
+han'?"
+
+Miss Horn eyed him keenly as she spoke.
+
+"He kens nae mair aboot whaur I come frae, mem, nor your Jean, wha
+'s hearkenin' at the keyhole this verra meenute."
+
+The quick ear of Malcolm had caught a slight sound of the handle,
+whose proximity to the keyhole was no doubt often troublesome to
+Jean.
+
+Miss Horn seemed to reach the door with one spring. Jean was ascending
+the last step of the stair with a message on her lips concerning
+butter and eggs. Miss Horn received it, and went back to Malcolm.
+
+"Na; Jean wadna du that," she said quietly.
+
+But she was wrong, for, hearing Malcolm's words, Jean had retreated
+one step down the stair, and turned.
+
+"But what's this ye tell me aboot yer gran'father, honest man."
+Miss Horn continued.
+
+"Duncan MacPhail's nae bluid o' mine--the mair's the pity!" said
+Malcolm sadly--and told her all he knew.
+
+Miss Horn's visage went through wonderful changes as he spoke.
+
+"Weel, it is a mercy I hae nae feelin's!" she said when he had
+done.
+
+"Ony wuman can lay a claim till me 'at likes, ye see," said Malcolm.
+
+"She may lay 'at she likes, but it 's no ilka egg laid has a chuckie
+intill 't," answered Miss Horn sententiously. "Jist ye gang hame
+to auld Duncan, an' tell him to turn the thing ower in 's min' till
+he's able to sweir to the verra nicht he fan' the bairn in 's lap.
+But no ae word maun he say to leevin' sowl aboot it afore it 's
+requiret o' 'im."
+
+"I wad be the son o' the puirest fisher wife i' the Seaton raither
+nor hers," said Malcolm gloomily.
+
+"An' it shaws ye better bred," said Miss Horn. "But she'll be at
+ye or lang--an' tak ye tent what ye say. Dinna flee in her face;
+lat her jaw awa', an' mark her words. She may lat a streak o' licht
+oot o' her dirk lantren oonawaurs."
+
+Malcolm returned to Mr Graham. They agreed there was nothing for
+it but to wait. He went next to his grandfather and gave him Miss
+Horn's message. The old man fell a thinking, but could not be
+certain even of the year in which he had left his home. The clouds
+hung very black around Malcolm's horizon.
+
+Since the adventure in the Baillies' Barn, Lady Florimel had been
+on a visit in Morayshire: she heard nothing of the report until
+she returned.
+
+"So you're a gentleman after all, Malcolm!" she said, the next time
+she saw him.
+
+The expression in her eyes appeared to him different from any
+he had encountered there before. The blood rushed to his face; he
+dropped his head, and saying merely, "It maun be a' as it maun,"
+pursued the occupation of the moment.
+
+But her words sent a new wind blowing into the fog. A gentleman
+she had said! Gentlemen married ladies! Could it be that a glory
+it was madness to dream of, was yet a possibility? One moment,
+and his honest heart recoiled from the thought: not even for Lady
+Florimel could he consent to be the son of that woman! Yet the
+thought, especially in Lady Florimel's presence, would return,
+would linger, would whisper, would tempt.
+
+In Florimel's mind also, a small demon of romance was at work.
+Uncorrupted as yet by social influences, it would not have seemed
+to her absurd that an heiress of rank should marry a poor country
+gentleman; but the thought of marriage never entered her head: she
+only felt that the discovery justified a nearer approach from both
+sides. She had nothing, not even a flirtation in view. Flirt she
+might, likely enough, but she did not foremean it.
+
+Had Malcolm been a schemer, he would have tried to make something
+of his position. But even the growth of his love for his young
+mistress was held in check by the fear of what that love tempted
+him to desire.
+
+Lady Florimel had by this time got so used to his tone and dialect,
+hearing it on all sides of her, that its quaintness had ceased to
+affect her, and its coarseness had begun to influence her repulsively.
+There were still to be found in Scotland old fashioned gentlefolk
+speaking the language of the country with purity and refinement;
+but Florimel had never met any of them, or she might possibly have
+been a little less repelled by Malcolm's speech.
+
+Within a day or two of her return, Mrs Stewart called at Lossie
+House, and had a long talk with her, in the course of which she
+found no difficulty in gaining her to promise her influence with
+Malcolm. From his behaviour on the occasion of their sole interview,
+she stood in a vague awe of him, and indeed could not recall it
+without a feeling of rebuke--a feeling which must either turn her
+aside from her purpose or render her the more anxious to secure his
+favour. Hence it came that she had not yet sought him: she would
+have the certainty first that he was kindly disposed towards her
+claim--a thing she would never have doubted but for the glimpse
+she had had of him.
+
+One Saturday afternoon, about this time, Mr Stewart put his head
+in at the door of the schoolroom, as he had done so often already,
+and seeing the master seated alone at his desk, walked in, saying
+once more, with a polite bow, "I dinna ken whaur I cam frae: I want
+to come to the school."
+
+Mr Graham assured him of welcome as cordially as if it had been
+the first time he came with the request, and yet again offered him
+a chair; but the laird as usual declined it, and walked down the
+room to find a seat with his companion scholars. He stopped midway,
+however, and returned to the desk, where, standing on tiptoe, he
+whispered in the master's ear: "I canna come upo' the door." Then
+turning away again, he crept dejectedly to a seat where some of
+the girls had made room for him. There he took a slate, and began
+drawing what might seem an attempt at a door; but ever as he drew
+he blotted out, and nothing that could be called a door was the
+result. Meantime, Mr Graham was pondering at intervals what he had
+said.
+
+School being over, the laird was modestly leaving with the rest,
+when the master gently called him, and requested the favour of a
+moment more of his company. As soon as they were alone, he took a
+Bible from his desk, and read the words:
+
+"I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and
+shall go in and out, and find pasture."
+
+Without comment, he closed the book, and put it away. Mr Stewart
+stood staring up at him for a moment, then turned, and gently
+murmuring, "I canna win at the door," walked from the schoolhouse.
+
+It was refuge the poor fellow sought--whether from temporal
+or spiritual foes will matter little to him who believes that the
+only shelter from the one is the only shelter from the other also.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII: THE BAILLIES' BARN AGAIN
+
+
+It began to be whispered about Portlossie, that the marquis had
+been present at one of the fishermen's meetings--a report which
+variously affected the minds of those in the habit of composing
+them. Some regarded it as an act of espial, and much foolish talk
+arose about the covenanters and persecution and martyrdom. Others,
+especially the less worthy of those capable of public utterance,
+who were by this time, in virtue of that sole gift, gaining an
+influence of which they were altogether unworthy, attributed it to
+the spreading renown of the preaching and praying members of the
+community, and each longed for an opportunity of exercising his
+individual gift upon the conscience of the marquis. The soberer portion
+took it for an act of mere curiosity, unlikely to be repeated.
+
+Malcolm saw that the only way of setting things right was that the
+marquis should go again--openly, but it was with much difficulty
+that he persuaded him to present himself in the assembly. Again
+accompanied by his daughter and Malcolm, he did, however, once
+more cross the links to the Baillies' Barn. Being early they had a
+choice of seats, and Florimel placed herself beside a pretty young
+woman of gentle and troubled countenance, who sat leaning against
+the side of the cavern.
+
+The preacher on this occasion was the sickly young student--more
+pale and haggard than ever, and halfway nearer the grave since his
+first sermon. He still set himself to frighten the sheep into the
+fold by wolfish cries; but it must be allowed that, in this sermon
+at least, his representations of the miseries of the lost were not
+by any means so gross as those usually favoured by preachers of
+his kind. His imagination was sensitive enough to be roused by the
+words of Scripture themselves, and was not dependent for stimulus
+upon those of Virgil, Dante, or Milton. Having taken for his text
+the fourteenth verse of the fifty-ninth psalm, "And at evening let
+them return; and let them make a noise like a dog, and go round
+about the city," he dwelt first upon the condition and character
+of the eastern dog as contrasted with those of our dogs; pointing
+out to his hearers, that so far from being valued for use or beauty
+or rarity, they were, except swine, of all animals the most despised
+by the Jews--the vile outcasts of the border land separating
+animals domestic and ferine--filthy, dangerous, and hated; then
+associating with his text that passage in the Revelation, "Blessed
+are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the
+tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city;
+for without are dogs," he propounded, or rather asserted, that it
+described one variety of the many punishments of the wicked, showing
+at least a portion of them condemned to rush howling for ever about
+the walls of the New Jerusalem, haunting the gates they durst not
+enter.
+
+"See them through the fog steaming up from the shores of their
+Phlegethon!" he cried, warming into eloquence; "see the horrid
+troop, afar from the crystal walls!--if indeed ye stand on those
+heights of glory, and course not around them with the dogs!--hear
+them howl and bark as they scour along! Gaze at them more earnestly
+as they draw nigher; see upon the dog heads of them the signs and
+symbols of rank and authority which they wore when they walked
+erect, men--ay, women too, among men and women! see the crown
+jewels flash over the hanging ears, the tiara tower thrice circled
+over the hungry eyes! see the plumes and the coronets, the hoods
+and the veils!"
+
+Here, unhappily for his eloquence, he slid off into the catalogue
+of women's finery given by the prophet Isaiah, at the close of
+which he naturally found the oratorical impulse gone, and had to sit
+down in the mud of an anticlimax. Presently, however, he recovered
+himself, and, spreading his wings, once more swung himself aloft
+into the empyrean of an eloquence, which, whatever else it might
+or might not be, was at least genuine.
+
+"Could they but surmount those walls, whose inherent radiance is
+the artillery of their defence, those walls high uplifted, whose
+lowest foundations are such stones as make the glory of earthly
+crowns; could they overleap those gates of pearl, and enter the
+golden streets, what think ye they would do there? Think ye they
+would rage hither and thither at will, making horrid havoc amongst
+the white robed inhabitants of the sinless capital? Nay, verily;
+for, in the gold transparent as glass, they would see their own
+vile forms in truth telling reflex, and, turning in agony, would
+rush yelling back, out again into the darkness--the outer darkness
+--to go round and round the city again and for evermore, tenfold
+tortured henceforth with the memory of their visioned selves."
+
+Here the girl beside Lady Florimel gave a loud cry, and fell backwards
+from her seat. On all sides arose noises, loud or suppressed,
+mingled with murmurs of expostulation. Even Lady Florimel, invaded
+by shrieks, had to bite her lips hard to keep herself from responding
+with like outcry; for scream will call forth scream, as vibrant
+string from its neighbour will draw the answering tone.
+
+"Deep calleth unto deep! The wind is blowing on the slain! The
+Spirit is breathing on the dry bones!" shouted the preacher in an
+ecstacy. But one who rose from behind Lizzy Findlay, had arrived
+at another theory regarding the origin of the commotion--and
+doubtless had a right to her theory, in as much as she was a woman
+of experience, being no other than Mrs Catanach.
+
+At the sound of her voice seeking to soothe the girl, Malcolm shuddered;
+but the next moment, from one of those freaks of suggestion which
+defy analysis, he burst into laughter: he had a glimpse of a she
+dog, in Mrs Catanach's Sunday bonnet, bringing up the rear of the
+preacher's canine company, and his horror of the woman found relief
+in an involuntary outbreak that did not spring altogether from
+merriment.
+
+It attracted no attention. The cries increased; for the preacher
+continued to play on the harp nerves of his hearers, in the firm
+belief that the Spirit was being poured out upon them. The marquis,
+looking very pale, for he could never endure the cry of a woman
+even in a play, rose, and taking Florimel by the arm, turned to
+leave the place. Malcolm hurried to the front to make way for them.
+But the preacher caught sight of the movement, and, filled with a
+fury which seemed to him sacred, rushed to the rescue of souls.
+
+"Stop!" he shouted. "Go not hence, I charge you. On your lives I
+charge you! Turn ye, turn ye: why will ye die? There is no fleeing
+from Satan. You must resist the devil. He that flies is lost. If
+you turn your backs upon Apollyon, he will never slacken pace until
+he has driven you into the troop of his dogs, to go howling about
+the walls of the city. Stop them, friends of the cross, ere they
+step beyond the sound of mercy; for, alas! the voice of him who is
+sent cannot reach beyond the particle of time wherein he speaks:
+now, this one solitary moment, gleaming out of the eternity before
+us only to be lost in the eternity behind us--this now is the
+accepted time; this Now and no other is the moment of salvation!"
+
+Most of the men recognized the marquis; some near the entrance saw
+only Malcolm clearing the way: marquis or fisher, it was all the
+same when souls were at stake: they crowded with one consent to
+oppose their exit: yet another chance they must have, whether they
+would or not These men were in the mood to give--not their own
+--but those other men's bodies to be burnt on the poorest chance
+of saving their souls from the everlasting burnings.
+
+Malcolm would have been ready enough for a fight, had he and the
+marquis been alone, but the presence of Lady Florimel put it out
+of the question. Looking round, he sought the eye of his master.
+
+Had Lord Lossie been wise, he would at once have yielded, and sat
+down to endure to the end. But he jumped on the form next him, and
+appealed to the common sense of the assembly.
+
+"Don't you see the man is mad?" he said, pointing to the preacher.
+"He is foaming at the mouth. For God's sake look after your women:
+he will have them all in hysterics in another five minutes. I wonder
+any man of sense would countenance such things!"
+
+As to hysterics, the fisher folk had never heard of them; and
+though the words of the preacher were not those of soberness, they
+yet believed them the words of truth, and himself a far saner man
+than the marquis.
+
+"Gien a body comes to oor meetin'," cried one of them, a fine
+specimen of the argle bargling Scotchman--a creature known and
+detested over the habitable globe--"he maun just du as we du,
+an' sit it oot. It's for yer sowl's guid."
+
+The preacher, checked in full career, was standing with open mouth,
+ready to burst forth in a fresh flood of oratory so soon as the
+open channels of hearing ears should be again granted him; but all
+were now intent on the duel between the marquis and Jamie Ladle.
+
+"If, the next time you came, you found the entrance barricaded,"
+said the marquis, "what would you say to that?"
+
+"Ow, we wad jist tak doon the sticks," answered Ladle.
+
+"You would call it persecution, wouldn't you?"
+
+"Ay; it wad be that."
+
+"And what do you call it now, when you prevent a man from going
+his own way, after he has had enough of your foolery?"
+
+"Ow, we ca' 't dissiplene!" answered the fellow.
+
+The marquis got down, annoyed, but laughing at his own discomfiture.
+"I've stopped the screaming, anyhow," he said.
+
+Ere the preacher, the tap of whose eloquence presently began to
+yield again, but at first ran very slow, had gathered way enough
+to carry his audience with him, a woman rushed up to the mouth of
+the cave, the borders of her cap flapping, and her grey hair flying
+like an old Maenad's. Brandishing in her hand a spunk with which
+she had been making the porridge for supper, she cried in a voice
+that reached every ear:
+
+"What's this I hear o' 't! Come oot o' that, Lizzy, ye limmer! Ir
+ye gauin' frae ill to waur, i' the deevil's name!"
+
+It was Meg Partan. She sent the congregation right and left from
+her, as a ship before the wind sends a wave from each side of her
+bows. Men and women gave place to her, and she went surging into
+the midst of the assembly.
+
+"Whaur's that lass o' mine?" she cried, looking about her in
+aggravated wrath at failing to pounce right upon her.
+
+"She's no verra weel, Mrs Findlay," cried Mrs Catanach, in a loud
+whisper, laden with an insinuating tone of intercession. "She'll be
+better in a meenute. The minister's jist ower pooerfu' the nicht."
+
+Mrs Findlay made a long reach, caught Lizzy by the arm, and dragged
+her forth, looking scared and white, with a red spot upon one cheek.
+No one dared to bar Meg's exit with her prize; and the marquis,
+with Lady Florimel and Malcolm, took advantage of the opening she
+made, and following in her wake soon reached the open air.
+
+Mrs Findlay was one of the few of the fisher women who did not
+approve of conventicles, being a great stickler for every authority
+in the country except that of husbands, in which she declared she
+did not believe: a report had reached her that Lizzy was one of the
+lawless that evening, and in hot haste she had left the porridge
+on the fire to drag her home.
+
+"This is the second predicament you have got us into, MacPhail,"
+said his lordship, as they walked along the Boar's Tail--the name
+by which some designated the dune, taking the name of the rock at
+the end of it to be the Boar's Craig, and the last word to mean,
+as it often does, not Crag, but Neck, like the German kragen, and
+perhaps the English scrag.
+
+" sorry for't, my lord," said Malcolm; "but  sure yer lordship
+had the worth o' 't in fun."
+
+"I can't deny that," returned the marquis.
+
+"And I can't get that horrid shriek out of my ears," said Lady
+Florimel.
+
+"Which of them?" said her father. "There was no end to the shrieking.
+It nearly drove me wild."
+
+"I mean the poor girl's who sat beside us, papa. Such a pretty nice
+looking creature to! And that horrid woman close behind us all the
+time! I hope you won't go again papa. They'll convert you if you
+do, and never ask your leave. You wouldn't like that, I know."
+
+"What do you say to shutting up the place altogether?"
+
+"Do, papa. It's shocking. Vulgar and horrid!"
+
+"I wad think twise, my lord, afore I wad sair (serve) them as ill
+as they saired me."
+
+"Did I ask your advice?" said the marquis sternly.
+
+"It's nane the waur 'at it 's gien oonsoucht," said Malcolm. "It's
+the richt thing ony gait."
+
+"You presume on this foolish report about you, I suppose, MacPhail,"
+said his lordship; "but that won't do."
+
+"God forgie ye, my lord, for I hae ill duin' 't!" (find it difficult)
+said Malcolm.
+
+He left them and walked down to the foamy lip of the tide, which
+was just waking up from its faint recession. A cold glimmer, which
+seemed to come from nothing but its wetness, was all the sea had
+to say for itself.
+
+But the marquis smiled, and turned his face towards the wind which
+was blowing from the south.
+
+In a few moments Malcolm came back, but to follow behind them, and
+say nothing more that night.
+
+The marquis did not interfere with the fishermen. Having heard of
+their rudeness, Mr Cairns called again, and pressed him to end the
+whole thing; but he said they would only be after something worse,
+and refused.
+
+The turn things had taken that night determined their after course.
+Cryings out and faintings grew common, and fits began to appear.
+A few laid claim to visions,--bearing, it must be remarked, a
+strong resemblance to the similitudes, metaphors, and more extended
+poetic figures, employed by the young preacher, becoming at length
+a little more original and a good deal more grotesque. They took
+to dancing at last, not by any means the least healthful mode of
+working off their excitement. It was, however, hardly more than a
+dull beating of time to the monotonous chanting of a few religious
+phrases, rendered painfully commonplace by senseless repetition.
+
+I would not be supposed to deny the genuineness of the emotion, or
+even of the religion, in many who thus gave show to their feelings.
+But neither those who were good before nor those who were excited
+now were much the better for this and like modes of playing
+off the mental electricity generated by the revolving cylinder of
+intercourse. Naturally, such men as Joseph Mair now grew shy of the
+assemblies they had helped to originate, and withdrew--at least
+into the background; the reins slipped from the hands of the first
+leaders, and such windbags as Ladle got up to drive the chariot
+of the gospel--with the results that could not fail to follow.
+At the same time it must be granted that the improvement of their
+habits, in so far as strong drink was concerned, continued: it
+became almost a test of faith with them, whether or not a man was
+a total abstainer. Hence their moral manners, so to say, improved
+greatly; there were no more public house orgies, no fighting in the
+streets, very little of what they called breaking of the Sabbath,
+and altogether there was a marked improvement in the look of things
+along a good many miles of that northern shore.
+
+Strange as it may seem, however, morality in the deeper sense,
+remained very much at the same low ebb as before. It is much easier
+to persuade men that God cares for certain observances, than that
+he cares for simple honesty and truth and gentleness and loving
+kindness. The man who would shudder at the idea of a rough word
+of the description commonly called swearing, will not even have a
+twinge of conscience after a whole morning of ill tempered sullenness,
+capricious scolding, villainously unfair animadversion, or surly
+cross grained treatment generally of wife and children! Such a man
+will omit neither family worship nor a sneer at his neighbour. He
+will neither milk his cow on the first day of the week without a
+Sabbath mask on his face, nor remove it while he waters the milk
+for his customers. Yet he may not be an absolute hypocrite. What
+can be done for him, however, hell itself may have to determine.
+
+Notwithstanding their spiritual experiences, it was, for instance,
+no easier to get them to pay their debts than heretofore. Of course
+there were, and had always been, thoroughly honest men and women
+amongst them; but there were others who took prominent part in
+their observances, who seemed to have no remotest suspicion that
+religion had anything to do with money or money's worth--not to
+know that God cared whether a child of his met his obligations or
+not. Such fulfilled the injunction to owe nothing by acknowledging
+nothing. One man, when pressed, gave as a reason for his refusal,
+that Christ had paid all his debts. Possibly this contemptible
+state of feeling had been fostered by an old superstition that it
+was unlucky to pay up everything, whence they had always been in
+the habit of leaving at least a few shillings of their shop bills
+to be carried forward to the settlement after the next fishing
+season. But when a widow whose husband had left property, would
+acknowledge no obligation to discharge his debts, it came to be
+rather more than a whim. Evidently the religion of many of them
+was as yet of a poor sort--precisely like that of the negroes,
+whose devotion so far outstrips their morality.
+
+If there had but been some one of themselves to teach that the true
+outlet and sedative of overstrained feeling is right action! that
+the performance of an unpleasant duty, say the paying of their debts,
+was a far more effectual as well as more specially religious mode
+of working off their excitement than dancing! that feeling is but
+the servant of character until it becomes its child! or rather,
+that feeling is but a mere vapour until condensed into character!
+that the only process through which it can be thus consolidated
+is well doing--the putting forth of the right thing according to
+the conscience universal and individual, and that thus, and thus
+only, can the veil be withdrawn from between the man and his God,
+and the man be saved in beholding the face of his Father!
+
+"But have patience--give them time," said Mr Graham, who had
+watched the whole thing from the beginning. "If their religion is
+religion, it will work till it purifies; if it is not, it will show
+itself for what it is, by plunging them into open vice. The mere
+excitement and its extravagance--the mode in which their gladness
+breaks out--means nothing either way. The man is the willing,
+performing being, not the feeling shouting singing being: in the
+latter there may be no individuality--nothing more than receptivity
+of the movement of the mass. But when a man gets up and goes out
+and discharges an obligation, he is an individual; to him God has
+spoken, and he has opened his ears to hear: God and that man are
+henceforth in communion."
+
+These doings, however, gave--how should they fail to give?--a
+strong handle to the grasp of those who cared for nothing in religion
+but its respectability--who went to church Sunday after Sunday,
+"for the sake of example" as they said--the most arrogant of
+Pharisaical reasons! Many a screeching, dancing fisher lass in the
+Seaton was far nearer the kingdom of heaven than the most respectable
+of such respectable people! I would unspeakably rather dance with
+the wildest of fanatics rejoicing over a change in their own spirits,
+than sit in the seat of the dull of heart, to whom the old story
+is an outworn tale.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX: MOUNT PISGAH
+
+
+The intercourse between Florimel and Malcolm grew gradually more
+familiar, until at length it was often hardly to be distinguished
+from such as takes place between equals, and Florimel was by degrees
+forgetting the present condition in the possible future of the
+young man. But Malcolm, on the other hand, as often as the thought
+of that possible future arose in her presence, flung it from him
+in horror, lest the wild dream of winning her should make him for
+a moment desire its realization.
+
+The claim that hung over him haunted his very life, turning the
+currents of his thought into channels of speculation unknown before.
+Imagine a young fisherman meditating--as he wandered with bent
+head through the wilder woods on the steep banks of the burn, or
+the little green levels which it overflowed in winter--of all
+possible subjects what analogy there might be betwixt the body and
+the soul in respect of derivation--whether the soul was traduced
+as well as the body?--as his material form came from the forms
+of his father and mother, did his soul come from their souls? or
+did the Maker, as at the first he breathed his breath into the form
+of Adam, still, at some crisis unknown in its creation, breathe
+into each form the breath of individual being? If the latter theory
+were the true, then, be his earthly origin what it might, he had
+but to shuffle off this mortal coil to walk forth a clean thing,
+as a prince might cast off the rags of an enforced disguise, and
+set out for the land of his birth. If the former were the true,
+then the wellspring of his being was polluted, nor might he by
+any death fling aside his degradation, or show himself other than
+defiled in the eyes of the old dwellers in "those high countries,"
+where all things seem as they are, and are as they seem.
+
+One day when, these questions fighting in his heart, he had for
+the hundredth time arrived thus far, all at once it seemed as if
+a soundless voice in the depth of his soul replied,
+
+"Even then--should the wellspring of thy life be polluted with
+vilest horrors such as, in Persian legends, the lips of the lost
+are doomed to drink with loathings inconceivable--the well is
+but the utterance of the water, not the source of its existence;
+the rain is its father, and comes from the sweet heavens. Thy soul,
+however it became known to itself is from the pure heart of God,
+whose thought of thee is older than thy being--is its first
+and eldest cause. Thy essence cannot be defiled, for in him it is
+eternal."
+
+Even with the thought, the horizon of his life began to clear; a
+light came out on the far edge of its ocean--a dull and sombre
+yellow, it is true, and the clouds hung yet heavy over sea and
+land, while miles of vapour hid the sky; but he could now believe
+there might be a blue beyond, in which the sun lorded it with
+majesty.
+
+He had been rambling on the waste hill in which the grounds of
+Lossie House, as it were, dissipated. It had a far outlook, but
+he had beheld neither sky or ocean. The Soutars of Cromarty had
+all the time sat on their stools large in his view; the hills of
+Sutherland had invited his gaze, rising faint and clear over the
+darkened water at their base, less solid than the sky in which
+they were set, and less a fact than the clouds that crossed their
+breasts; the land of Caithness had lain lowly and afar, as if,
+weary of great things, it had crept away in tired humility to the
+rigours of the north; and east and west his own rugged shore had
+gone lengthening out, fringed with the white burst of the dark sea;
+but none of all these things had he noted.
+
+Lady Florimel suddenly encountered him on his way home, and was
+startled by his look.
+
+"Where have you been, Malcolm?" she exclaimed.
+
+"I hardly ken, my leddy: somewhaur aboot the feet o' Mount Pisgah,
+ thinkin', if no freely upo' the heid o' 't."
+
+"That's not the name of the hill up there!"
+
+"Ow na; yon's the Binn."
+
+"What have you been about? Looking at things in general, I suppose."
+
+"Na; they've been luikin' at me, I daursay; but I didna heed them,
+an' they didna fash me."
+
+"You look so strangely bright!" she said, "as if you had seen
+something both marvellous and beautiful!"
+
+The words revealed a quality of insight not hitherto manifested by
+Florimel. In truth, Malcolm's whole being was irradiated by the flash
+of inward peace that had visited him--a statement intelligible and
+therefore credible enough to the mind accustomed to look over the
+battlements of the walls that clasp the fair windows of the senses.
+But Florimel's insight had reached its limit, and her judgment,
+vainly endeavouring to penetrate farther, fell floundering in the
+mud.
+
+"I know!" she went on: "You've been to see your lady mother!"
+
+Malcolm's face turned white as if blasted with leprosy. The same
+scourge that had maddened the poor laird fell hissing on his soul,
+and its knotted sting was the same word mother. He turned and walked
+slowly away, fighting a tyrannous impulse to thrust his fingers in
+his ears and run and shriek.
+
+"Where are your manners?" cried the girl after him, but he never
+stayed his slow foot or turned his bowed head, and Florimel wondered.
+
+For the moment, his new found peace had vanished. Even if the old
+nobility of heaven might regard him without a shadow of condescension
+--that self righteous form of contempt--what could he do with
+a mother whom he could neither honour or love? Love! If he could
+but cease to hate her! There was no question yet of loving.
+
+But might she not repent? Ah, then, indeed! And might he not help
+her to repent?--He would not avoid her. How was it that she had
+never yet sought him?
+
+As he brooded thus, on his way to Duncan's cottage, and, heedless
+of the sound of coming wheels, was crossing the road which went
+along the bottom of the glen, he was nearly run over by a carriage
+coming round the corner of a high bank at a fast trot. Catching one
+glimpse of the face of its occupant, as it passed within a yard
+of his own, he turned and fled back through the woods, with again
+a horrible impulse to howl to the winds the cry of the mad laird:
+"I dinna ken whaur I cam frae!" When he came to himself, he found
+his hands pressed hard on his ears, and for a moment felt a sickening
+certainty that he too was a son of the lady of Gersefell.
+
+When he returned at length to the House, Mrs Courthope informed
+him that Mrs Stewart had called, and seen both the marquis and Lady
+Florimel.
+
+Meantime he had grown again a little anxious about the laird,
+but as Phemy plainly avoided him, had concluded that he had found
+another concealment, and that the child preferred not being questioned
+concerning it.
+
+With the library of Lossie House at his disposal, and almost nothing
+to do, it might now have been a grand time for Malcolm's studies;
+but alas! he too often found it all but impossible to keep his
+thoughts on the track of a thought through a single sentence of
+any length.
+
+The autumn now hung over the verge of its grave. Hoar frost, thick
+on the fields, made its mornings look as if they had turned gray
+with fear. But when the sun arose, grayness and fear vanished; the
+back thrown smile of the departing glory was enough to turn old
+age into a memory of youth. Summer was indeed gone, and winter was
+nigh with its storms and its fogs and its rotting rains and its
+drifting snows, but the sun was yet in the heavens, and, changed
+as was his manner towards her, would yet have many a half smile for
+the poor old earth--enough to keep her alive until he returned,
+bringing her youth with him. To the man who believes that the
+winter is but for the sake of the summer; exists only in virtue of
+the summer at its heart, no winter, outside or in, can be unendurable.
+But Malcolm sorely missed the ministrations of compulsion: he
+lacked labour--the most helpful and most healing of all God's
+holy things, of which we so often lose the heavenly benefit by
+labouring inordinately that we may rise above the earthly need of
+it. How many sighs are wasted over the toil of the sickly--a toil
+which perhaps lifts off half the weight of their sickness, elevates
+their inner life, and makes the outer pass with tenfold rapidity.
+Of those who honestly pity such, many would themselves be far less
+pitiable were they compelled to share in the toil they behold with
+compassion. They are unaware of the healing virtue which the thing
+they would not pity at all were it a matter of choice, gains from
+the compulsion of necessity.
+
+All over the house big fires were glowing and blazing. Nothing
+pleased the marquis worse than the least appearance of stinting
+the consumption of coal. In the library two huge gratefuls were
+burning from dawn to midnight--well for the books anyhow, if their
+owner seldom showed his face amongst them. There were days during
+which, except the servant whose duty it was to attend to the fires,
+not a creature entered the room but Malcolm. To him it was as the
+cave of Aladdin to the worshipper of Mammon, and yet now he would
+often sit down indifferent to its hoarded splendours, and gather
+no jewels.
+
+But one morning, as he sat there alone, in an oriel looking seawards,
+there lay on a table before him a thin folio, containing the chief
+works of Sir Thomas Brown--amongst the rest his well known Religio
+Medici, from which he had just read the following passage:
+
+"When I take a full view and circle of myself, without this reasonable
+moderatour, and equall piece of justice, Death, I doe conceive my
+self the most miserablest person extant; were there not another
+life that I hoped for, all the vanities of this world should not
+intreat a moment's breath from me; could the Devil work my belief
+to imagine I could never die, I would not outlive that very thought:
+I have so abject a conceit of this common way of existence, this
+retaining to the Sun and elements, I cannot think this is to be a
+man, or to live according to the dignity of humanity. In expectation
+of a better, I can with patience embrace this life, yet in my best
+meditations do often desire death; I honour any man that contemnes
+it, nor can I highly love any that is afraid of it: this makes me
+naturally love a Soldier, and honour those tatter'd and contemptible
+Regiments that will die at the command of a Sergeant."
+
+These words so fell in with the prevailing mood of his mind, that
+having gathered them, they grew upon him, and as he pondered them,
+he sat gazing out on the bright blowing autumn day. The sky was
+dimmed with a clear pallor, across which small white clouds were
+driving; the yellow leaves that yet cleave to the twigs were few,
+and the wind swept through the branches with a hiss. The far off
+sea was alive with multitudinous white--the rush of the jubilant
+oversea across the blue plain. All without was merry, healthy,
+radiant, strong; in his mind brooded a single haunting thought that
+already had almost filled his horizon, threatening by exclusion to
+become madness! Why should he not leave the place, and the horrors
+of his history with it? Then the hideous hydra might unfold itself
+as it pleased; he would find at least a better fortune than his
+birth had endowed him withal.
+
+Lady Florimel entered in search of something to read: to her
+surprise, for she had heard of no arrival, in one of the windows
+sat a Highland gentleman, looking out on the landscape. She was on
+the point of retiring again, when a slight movement revealed Malcolm.
+
+The explanation was, that the marquis, their seafaring over, had
+at length persuaded Malcolm to don the highland attire: it was an
+old custom of the house of Lossie that its lord's henchman should
+be thus distinguished, and the marquis himself wore the kilt when
+on his western estates in the summer, also as often as he went to
+court,--would indeed have worn it always but that he was no longer
+hardy enough. He would not have succeeded with Malcolm, however,
+but for the youth's love to Duncan, the fervent heat of which
+vaporized the dark heavy stone of obligation into the purple vapour
+of gratitude, and enhanced the desire of pleasing him until it
+became almost a passion. Obligation is a ponderous roll of canvas
+which Love spreads aloft into a tent wherein he delights to dwell.
+
+This was his first appearance in the garments of Duncan's race.
+
+It was no little trial to him to assume them in the changed aspect
+of his circumstances; for alas! he wore them in right of service
+only, not of birth, and the tartan of his lord's family was all he
+could claim.
+
+He had not heard Lady Florimel enter. She went softly up behind
+him, and laid her hand on his shoulder. He started to his feet.
+
+"A penny for your thoughts," she said, retreating a step or two.
+
+"I wad gie twa to be rid o' them," he returned, shaking his bushy
+head as if to scare the invisible ravens hovering about it.
+
+"How fine you are!" Florimel went on, regarding him with an
+approbation too open to be altogether gratifying. "The dress suits
+you thoroughly. I didn't know you at first. I thought it must be
+some friend of papa's. Now I remember he said once you must wear
+the proper dress for a henchman. How do you like it?"
+
+"It's a' ane to me," said Malcolm. "I dinna care what I weir.--
+Gien only I had a richt till 't!" he added with a sigh.
+
+"It is too bad of you, Malcolm!" rejoined Florimel in a tone of
+rebuke. "The moment fortune offers you favour, you fall out with
+her--won't give her a single smile. You don't deserve your good
+luck."
+
+Malcolm was silent.
+
+"There's something on your mind," Florimel went on, partly from
+willingness to serve Mrs Stewart, partly enticed by the romance of
+being Malcolm's comforter, or perhaps confessor.
+
+"Ay is there, my leddy."
+
+"What is it? Tell me. You can trust me!"
+
+"I could trust ye, but I canna tell ye. I daurna--I maunna."
+
+"I see you will not trust me," said Florimel, with a half pretended,
+half real offence.
+
+"I wad lay doon my life--what there is o' 't--for ye, my leddy;
+but the verra natur o' my trouble winna be tauld. I maun beir 't
+my lane."
+
+It flashed across Lady Florimel's brain, that the cause of his
+misery, the thing he dared not confess, was love of herself. Now,
+Malcolm, standing before her in his present dress, and interpreted
+by the knowledge she believed she had of his history, was a very
+different person indeed from the former Malcolm in the guise of
+fisherman or sailor, and she felt as well as saw the difference:
+if she was the cause of his misery, why should she not comfort him
+a little? why should she not be kind to him? Of course anything more
+was out of the question; but a little confession and consolation
+would hurt neither of them. Besides, Mrs Stewart had begged her
+influence, and this would open a new channel for its exercise.
+Indeed, if he was unhappy through her, she ought to do what she
+might for him. A gentle word or two would cost her nothing, and
+might help to heal a broken heart! She was hardly aware, however,
+how little she wanted it healed--all at once.
+
+For the potency of a thought it is perhaps even better that
+it should not be logically displayed to the intellect; anyhow the
+germ of all this, undeveloped into the definite forms I have given,
+sufficed to the determining of Florimel's behaviour. I do not mean
+that she had more than the natural tendency of womankind to enjoy
+the emotions of which she was the object; but besides the one in
+the fable, there are many women with a tendency to arousing; and
+the idea of deriving pleasure from the sufferings of a handsome
+youth was not quite so repulsive to her as it ought to have been. At
+the same time, as there cannot be many cats capable of understanding
+the agonies of the mice within reach of their waving whiskers,
+probably many cat women are not quite so cruel as they seem.
+
+"Can't you trust me, Malcolm?" she said, looking in his eyes very
+sweetly, and bending a little towards him; "Can't you trust me?"
+
+At the words and the look it seemed as if his frame melted to
+ether. He dropped on his knees, and, his heart half stifled in the
+confluence of the tides of love and misery, sighed out between the
+pulses in his throat:
+
+"There's naething I could na tell ye 'at ever I thoucht or did i'
+my life, my leddy; but it 's ither fowk, my leddy! It's like to burn
+a hole i' my hert, an' yet I daurna open my mou'."
+
+There was a half angelic, half dog-like entreaty in his up looking
+hazel eyes that seemed to draw hers down into his: she must put a
+stop to that.
+
+"Get up, Malcolm," she said kindly, "what would my father or Mrs
+Courthope think?"
+
+"I dinna ken, an' I maist dinna care; atween ae thing an' anither,
+ near han' distrackit," answered Malcolm, rising slowly, but
+not taking his eyes from her face. "An' there's my daddy!" he went
+on, "maist won ower to the enemy--an' I daurna tell even him what
+for I canna bide it!--Ye haena been sayin' onything till him--
+hiv ye, my leddy?"
+
+"I don't quite understand you," returned Florimel, rather guiltily,
+for she had spoken on the subject to Duncan. "Saying anything to
+your grandfather? About what?"
+
+"Aboot--aboot--Her, ye ken, my leddy."
+
+"What her?" asked Florimel.
+
+"Her 'at--The leddy o' Gersefell."
+
+"And why? What of her? Why, Malcolm! what can have possessed you?
+You seem actually to dislike her!"
+
+"I canna bide her," said Malcolm, with the calm earnestness of one
+who is merely stating an incontrovertible fact, and for a moment his
+eyes, at once troubled and solemn, kept looking wistfully in hers,
+as if searching for a comfort too good to be found, then slowly
+sank and sought the floor at her feet.
+
+"And why?"
+
+"I canna tell ye."
+
+She supposed it an unreasoned antipathy.
+
+"But that is very wrong," she said, almost as if rebuking a child.
+"You ought to be ashamed of yourself. What!--dislike your own
+mother?"
+
+"Dinna say the word, my leddy," cried Malcolm in a tone of agony,
+"or ye'll gar me skirl an' rin like the mad laird. He's no a hair
+madder nor I wad be wi' sic a mither."
+
+He would have passed her to leave the room.
+
+But Lady Florimel could not bear defeat. In any contest she must
+win or be shamed in her own eyes, and was she to gain absolutely
+nothing in such a passage with a fisher lad? Was the billow of her
+persuasion to fall back from such a rock, self beaten into poorest
+foam? She would, she must subdue him! Perhaps she did not know how
+much the sides of her intent were pricked by the nettling discovery
+that she was not the cause of his unhappiness.
+
+"You 're not going to leave me so!" she exclaimed, in a tone of
+injury.
+
+"I 'll gang or bide as ye wull, my leddy," answered Malcolm
+resignedly.
+
+"Bide then," she returned. "I haven't half done with you yet."
+
+"Ye mauna jist tear my hert oot," he rejoined--with a sad half
+smile, and another of his dog-like looks.
+
+"That's what you would do to your mother!" said Florimel severely.
+
+"Say nae ill o' my mither!" cried Malcolm, suddenly changing almost
+to fierceness.
+
+"Why, Malcolm!" said Florimel, bewildered, "what ill was I saying
+of her?"
+
+"It's naething less than an insult to my mither to ca' yon wuman
+by her name," he replied with set teeth.
+
+It was to him an offence against the idea of motherhood--against
+the mother he had so often imagined luminous against the dull blank
+of memory, to call such a woman his mother.
+
+"She's a very ladylike, handsome woman--handsome enough to be
+your mother even, Mr Malcolm Stewart."
+
+Florimel could not have dared the words but for the distance between
+them; but, then, neither would she have said them while the distance
+was greater! They were lost on Malcolm though, for never in his
+life having started the question whether he was handsome or not, he
+merely supposed her making game of him, and drew himself together
+in silence, with the air of one bracing himself to hear and endure
+the worst.
+
+"Even if she should not be your mother," his tormentor resumed,
+"to show such a dislike to any woman is nothing less than cruelty."
+
+"She maun pruv' 't," murmured Malcolm--not the less emphatically
+that the words were but just audible.
+
+"Of course she will not do that; she has abundance of proof. She
+gave me a whole hour of proof."
+
+"Lang's no strang," returned Malcolm "there's comfort i' that! Gang
+on my leddy."
+
+"Poor woman! it was hard enough to lose her son; but to find him
+again such as you seem likely to turn out, I should think ten times
+worse."
+
+"Nae doobt! nae doobt!--But there's ae thing waur."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"To come upon a mither 'at--"
+
+He stopped abruptly; his eyes went wandering about the room, and
+the muscles of his face worked convulsively.
+
+Florimel saw that she had been driving against a stone wall. She
+paused a moment, and then resumed.
+
+"Anyhow, if she is your mother," she said, "nothing you can do will
+alter it."
+
+"She maun pruv' 't," was all Malcolm's dogged reply.
+
+"Just so; and if she can't," said Florimel, "you'll be no worse
+than you were before--and no better," she added with a sigh.
+
+Malcolm lifted his questioning to her searching eyes.
+
+"Don't you see," she went on, very softly, and lowering her look,
+from the half conscious shame of half unconscious falseness, "I
+can't be all my life here at Lossie? We shall have to say goodbye
+to each other--never to meet again most likely. But if you should
+turn out to be of good family, you know,--"
+
+Florimel saw neither the paling of his brown cheek nor the great
+surge of red that followed, but, glancing up to spy the effect of
+her argument, did see the lightning that broke from the darkened
+hazel of his eyes, and again cast down her own.
+
+"--then there might be some chance," she went on, "of our meeting
+somewhere--in London, or perhaps in Edinburgh, and I could ask
+you to my house--after I was married you know."
+
+Heaven and earth seemed to close with a snap around his brain.
+The next moment, they had receded an immeasurable distance, and in
+limitless wastes of exhausted being he stood alone. What time had
+passed when he came to himself he had not an idea; it might have
+been hours for anything his consciousness was able to tell him.
+But, although he recalled nothing of what she had been urging, he
+grew aware that Lady Florimel's voice, which was now in his ears,
+had been sounding in them all the time. He was standing before her
+like a marble statue with a dumb thrill in its helpless heart of
+stone. He must end this! Parting was bad enough, but an endless
+parting was unendurable! To know that measureless impassable leagues
+lay between them, and yet to be for ever in the shroud of a cold
+leave taking! To look in her eyes, and know that she was not there!
+A parting that never broke the bodily presence--that was the form
+of agony which the infinite moment assumed. As to the possibility
+she would bribe him with--it was not even the promise of a glimpse
+of Abraham's bosom from the heart of hell. With such an effort as
+breaks the bonds of a nightmare dream, he turned from her, and,
+heedless of her recall, went slowly, steadily, out of the house.
+
+While she was talking, his eyes had been resting with glassy gaze
+upon the far off waters: the moment he stepped into the open air,
+and felt the wind on his face, he knew that their turmoil was the
+travailing of sympathy, and that the ocean had been drawing him all
+the time. He walked straight to his little boat, lying dead on the
+sands of the harbour, launched it alive on the smooth water within
+the piers, rove his halliard, stepped his mast, hoisted a few inches
+of sail, pulled beyond the sheltering sea walls, and was tossing
+amidst the torn waters whose jagged edges were twisted in the
+loose flying threads of the northern gale. A moment more, and he
+was sitting on the windward gunwale of his spoon of a boat, with
+the tiller in one hand and the sheet in the other, as she danced
+like a cork over the broken tops of the waves. For help in his sore
+need, instinct had led him to danger.
+
+Half way to the point of Scaurnose, he came round on the other
+tack, and stood for the Death Head.
+
+Glancing from the wallowing floor beneath him, and the one wing
+that bore him skimming over its million deaths, away to the House
+of Lossie, where it stood steady in its woods, he distinguished
+the very window whence, hardly an hour ago, from the centre of the
+calm companionship of books, he had gazed out upon the wind swept
+waste as upon a dream.
+
+"How strange," he thought, "to find myself now in the midst of what
+I then but saw! This reeling ocean was but a picture to me then--
+a picture framed in the window; it is now alive and I toss like a
+toy on its wild commotion. Then I but saw from afar the flashing of
+the white out of the blue water, and the blue sky overhead, which
+no winds can rend into pallid pains; now I have to keep eye and
+hand together in one consent to shun death; I meet wind and wave on
+their own terms, and humour the one into an evasion of the other.
+The wind that then revealed itself only in white blots and streaks
+now lashes my hair into my eyes, and only the lift of my bows is
+betwixt me and the throat that swallows the whales and the krakens.
+
+"Will it be so with death? It looks strange and far off now, but
+it draws nigh noiselessly, and one day I meet it face to face in
+the grapple: shall I rejoice in that wrestle as I rejoice in this?
+Will not my heart grow sick within me? Shall I not be faint and
+fearful? And yet I could almost wish it were at hand!
+
+"I wonder how death and this wan water here look to God! To him is
+it like a dream--a picture? Water cannot wet him; death cannot
+touch him. Yet Jesus could have let the water wet him; and he granted
+power to death when he bowed his head and gave up the ghost. God
+knows how things look to us both far off and near; he also can see
+them so when he pleases. What they look to him is what they are:
+we cannot see them so, but we see them as he meant us to see them,
+therefore truly, according to the measure of the created. Made in
+the image of God, we see things in the image of his sight."
+
+Thoughts like these, only in yet cruder forms, swept through the
+mind of Malcolm as he tossed on that autumn sea. But what we call
+crude forms are often in reality germinal forms; and one or other
+of these flowered at once into the practical conclusion that God
+must know all his trouble, and would work for him a worthy peace.
+Ere he turned again towards the harbour, he had reascended the
+cloud haunted Pisgah whence the words of Lady Florimel had hurled
+him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L: LIZZY FINDLAY
+
+
+Leaving his boat again on the dry sand that sloped steep into the
+harbour, Malcolm took his way homeward along the shore. Presently
+he spied, at some little distance in front of him, a woman sitting
+on the sand, with her head bowed upon her knees. She had no shawl,
+though the wind was cold and strong, blowing her hair about wildly.
+Her attitude and whole appearance were the very picture of misery.
+He drew near and recognized her.
+
+"What on earth's gane wrang wi' ye, Lizzy?" he asked.
+
+"Ow naething," she murmured, without lifting her head. The brief
+reply was broken by a sob.
+
+"That canna be," persisted Malcolm, trouble of whose own had never
+yet rendered him indifferent to that of another. "Is 't onything
+'at a body cun stan' by ye in?"
+
+Another sob was the only answer.
+
+" in a peck o' troubles mysel'," said Malcolm. "I wad fain help
+a body gien I cud."
+
+"Naebody can help me," returned the girl, with an agonized burst,
+as if the words were driven from her by a convulsion of her inner
+world, and therewith she gave way, weeping and sobbing aloud. "I
+doobt I'll hae to droon mysel'," she added with a wail, as he stood
+in compassionate silence, until the gust should blow over; and as
+she said it she lifted a face tear stained, and all white, save where
+five fingers had branded their shapes in red. Her eyes scarcely
+encountered his; again she buried her face in her hands, and rocked
+herself to and fro, moaning in fresh agony.
+
+"Yer mither's been sair upo' ye, I doobt!" he said. "But it'll sune
+blaw ower. She cuils as fest 's she heats."
+
+As he spoke he set himself down on the sand beside her. But Lizzy
+started to her feet, crying,
+
+"Dinna come near me, Ma'colm.  no fit for honest man to come
+nigh me. Stan' awa'; I hae the plague."
+
+She laughed, but it was a pitiful laugh, and she looked wildly
+about, as if for some place to run to.
+
+"I wad na be sorry to tak it mysel', Lizzy. At ony rate  ower
+auld a freen' to be driven frae ye that gait," said Malcolm, who
+could not bear the thought of leaving her on the border of the
+solitary sea, with the waves barking at her all the cold winterly
+gloamin'. Who could tell what she might do after the dark came down?
+He rose and would have taken her hand to draw it from her face;
+but she turned her back quickly, saying in a hard forced voice:
+
+"A man canna help a wuman--'cep it be till her grave." Then
+turning suddenly, she laid her hands on his shoulders, and cried:
+"For the love o' God, Ma'colm, lea' me this moment. Gien I cud
+tell ony man what ailed me, I wad tell you; but I canna, I canna!
+Rin laddie; rin' an' leap me."
+
+It was impossible to resist her anguished entreaty and agonized
+look. Sore at heart and puzzled in brain, Malcolm yielding turned
+from her, and with eyes on the ground, thoughtfully pursued his
+slow walk towards the Seaton.
+
+At the corner of the first house in the village stood three women,
+whom he saluted as he passed. The tone of their reply struck
+him a little, but, not having observed how they watched him as he
+approached, he presently forgot it. The moment his back was turned
+to them, they turned to each other and interchanged looks.
+
+"Fine feathers mak fine birds," said one of them.
+
+"Ay, but he luiks booed doon," said another.
+
+"An' weel he may! What 'll his leddy mither say to sic a ploy? She
+'ll no sawvour bein' made a granny o' efter sic a fashion 's yon,"
+said the third.
+
+"'Deed, lass, there's feow oucht to think less o' 't," returned
+the first.
+
+Although they took little pains to lower their voices, Malcolm was
+far too much preoccupied to hear what they said. Perceiving plainly
+enough that the girl's trouble was much greater than a passing
+quarrel with her mother would account for, and knowing that any
+intercession on his part would only rouse to loftier flames the
+coal pits of maternal wrath, he resolved at length to take counsel
+with Blue Peter and his wife, and therefore, passing the sea gate,
+continued his walk along the shore, and up the red path to the
+village of Scaurnose.
+
+He found them sitting at their afternoon meal of tea and oatcake.
+A peat fire smouldered hot upon the hearth; a large kettle hung
+from a chain over it--fountain of plenty, whence the great china
+teapot, splendid in red flowers and green leaves, had just been
+filled; the mantelpiece was crowded with the gayest of crockery,
+including the never absent half shaved poodles, and the rarer
+Gothic castle, from the topmost story of whose keep bloomed a few
+late autumn flowers. Phemy too was at the table: she rose as if to
+leave the room, but apparently changed her mind, for she sat down
+again instantly.
+
+"Man ye're unco braw the day--i' yer kilt an' tartan hose!"
+remarked Mair as he welcomed him.
+
+"I pat them on to please my daddy an' the markis," said Malcolm,
+with a half shamed faced laugh.
+
+"Are na ye some cauld aboot the k-nees?" asked the guidwife.
+
+"Nae that cauld! I ken 'at they're there; but I'll sune be used
+till 't."
+
+"Weel, sit ye doon an' tak a cup o' tay wi' 's"
+
+"I haena muckle time to spare," said Malcolm; "but I'll tak a cup
+o' tay wi' ye. Gien 't warna for wee bit luggies (small ears) I
+wad fain spier yer advice aboot ane 'at wants a wuman freen',
+thinkin'."
+
+Phemy, who had been regarding him with compressed lips and suspended
+operations, deposited her bread and butter on the table, and slipped
+from her chair.
+
+"Whaur are ye gaein', Phemy?" said her mother.
+
+"Takin' awa' my lugs," returned Phemy.
+
+"Ye cratur!" exclaimed Malcolm, "ye're ower wise. Wha wad hae
+thoucht ye sae gleg at the uptak!"
+
+"Whan fowk winna lippen to me--" said Phemy and ceased.
+
+"What can ye expec," returned Malcolm, while father and mother
+listened with amused faces, "whan ye winna lippen to fowk? Phemy,
+whaur's the mad laird?"
+
+A light flush rose to her cheeks, but whether from embarrassment
+or anger could not be told from her reply.
+
+"I ken nane o' that name," she said.
+
+"Whaur's the laird o' Kirkbyres, than?"
+
+"Whar ye s' never lay han' upo' 'im!" returned the child, her cheeks
+now rosy red, and her eyes flashing.
+
+"Me lay han' upo' 'im!" cried Malcolm, surprised at her behaviour.
+
+"Gien 't hadna been for you, naebody wad hae fun' oot the w'y
+intil the cave," she rejoined, her gray eyes, blue with the fire
+of anger, looking straight into his.
+
+"Phemy! Phemy!" said her mother. "For shame!"
+
+"There's nae shame intill 't," protested the child indignantly.
+
+"But there is shame intill 't," said Malcolm quietly, "for ye wrang
+an honest man."
+
+"Weel, ye canna deny," persisted Phemy, in mood to brave the evil
+one himself, "'at ye was ower at Kirkbyres on ane o' the markis's
+mears, an' heild a lang confab wi' the laird's mither!"
+
+"I gaed upo' my maister's eeran'," answered Malcolm.
+
+"Ow, ay! I daursay!--But wha kens--wi' sic a mither!"
+
+She burst out crying, and ran into the street.
+
+Malcolm understood it now.
+
+"She's like a' the lave (rest)!" he said sadly, turning to her
+mother.
+
+" jist affrontit wi' the bairn!" she replied, with manifest
+annoyance in her flushed face.
+
+"She's true to him," said Malcolm, "gien she binna fair to me.
+Sayna a word to the lassie. she'll ken me better or lang. An' noo
+for my story."
+
+Mrs Mair said nothing while he told how he had come upon Lizzy,
+the state she was in, and what had passed between them; but he had
+scarcely finished, when she rose, leaving a cup of tea untasted,
+and took her bonnet and shawl from a nail in the back of the door.
+Her husband rose also.
+
+"I 'll jist gang as far 's the Boar's Craig wi' ye mysel', Annie,"
+he said.
+
+" thinkin' ye'll fin' the puir lassie whaur I left her," remarked
+Malcolm. "I doobt she daured na gang hame."
+
+That night it was all over the town, that Lizzy Findlay was in a
+woman's worst trouble, and that Malcolm was the cause of it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI: THE LAIRD'S BURROW
+
+
+Annie Mair had a brother, a carpenter, who, following her to Scaurnose,
+had there rented a small building next door to her cottage, and
+made of it a workshop. It had a rude loft, one end of which was
+loosely floored, while the remaining part showed the couples through
+the bare joists, except where some planks of oak and mahogany, with
+an old door, a boat's rudder, and other things that might come
+in handy, were laid across them in store. There also, during the
+winter, hung the cumulus clouds of Blue Peter's herring nets; for
+his cottage, having a garret above, did not afford the customary
+place for them in the roof.
+
+When the cave proved to be no longer a secret from the laird's
+enemies, Phemy, knowing that her father's garret could never afford
+him a sufficing sense of security, turned the matter over in her
+active little brain until pondering produced plans, and she betook
+herself to her uncle, with whom she was a great favourite. Him she
+found no difficulty in persuading to grant the hunted man a refuge
+in the loft. In a few days he had put up a partition between the
+part which was floored and that which was open, and so made for him
+a little room, accessible from the shop by a ladder and a trapdoor.
+He had just taken down an old window frame to glaze for it, when
+the laird coming in and seeing what he was about, scrambled up
+the ladder, and, a moment after, all but tumbled down again in his
+eagerness to put a stop to it: the window was in the gable, looking
+to the south, and he would not have it glazed.
+
+In blessed compensation for much of the misery of his lot, the
+laird was gifted with an inborn delicate delight in nature and her
+ministrations such as few poets even possess; and this faculty was
+supplemented with a physical hardiness which, in association with
+his weakness and liability to certain appalling attacks, was truly
+astonishing. Though a rough hand might cause him exquisite pain, he
+could sleep soundly on the hardest floor; a hot room would induce
+a fit, but he would lie under an open window in the sharpest night
+without injury; a rude word would make him droop like a flower in
+frost, but he might go all day wet to the skin without taking cold.
+To all kinds of what are called hardships, he had readily become
+inured, without which it would have been impossible for his love
+of nature to receive such a full development. For hence he grew
+capable of communion with her in all her moods, undisabled either
+by the deadening effects of present, or the aversion consequent on
+past suffering. All the range of earth's shows, from the grandeurs
+of sunrise or thunderstorm down to the soft unfolding of a daisy
+or the babbling birth of a spring, was to him an open book. It
+is true, the delight of these things was constantly mingled with,
+not unfrequently broken, indeed, by the troublous question of his
+origin; but it was only on occasions of jarring contact with his
+fellows, that it was accompanied by such agonies as my story has
+represented. Sometimes he would sit on a rock, murmuring the words
+over and over, and dabbling his bare feet, small and delicately
+formed, in the translucent green of a tide abandoned pool. But
+oftener in a soft dusky wind, he might have been heard uttering them
+gently and coaxingly, as if he would wile from the evening zephyr
+the secret of his birth--which surely mother Nature must know. The
+confinement of such a man would have been in the highest degree
+cruel, and must speedily have ended in death. Even Malcolm did
+not know how absolute was the laird's need, not simply of air and
+freedom, but of all things accompanying the enjoyment of them.
+
+There was nothing then of insanity in his preference of a windowless
+bedroom;--it was that airs and odours, birds and sunlight--the
+sound of flapping wing, of breaking wave, and quivering throat,
+might be free to enter. Cool clean air he must breathe, or die; with
+that, the partial confinement to which he was subjected was not
+unendurable; besides, the welcome rain would then visit him sometimes,
+alighting from the slant wing of the flying blast; while the sun
+would pour in his rays full and mighty and generous, unsifted by
+the presumptuous glass--green and gray and crowded with distorting
+lines; and the sharp flap of pigeon's wing would be mimic thunder
+to the flash which leapt from its whiteness as it shot by.
+
+He not only loved but understood all the creatures, divining by an
+operation in which neither the sympathy nor the watchfulness was
+the less perfect that both were but half conscious, the emotions
+and desires informing their inarticulate language. Many of them
+seemed to know him in return--either recognizing his person,
+and from experience deducing safety, or reading his countenance
+sufficiently to perceive that his interest prognosticated no
+injury. The maternal bird would keep her seat in her nursery, and
+give back his gaze; the rabbit peeping from his burrow would not
+even draw in his head at his approach; the rooks about Scaurnose
+never took to their wings until he was within a yard or two of
+them: the laird, in his half acted utterance, indicated that they
+took him for a scarecrow and therefore were not afraid of him.
+Even Mrs Catanach's cur had never offered him a bite in return for
+a caress. He could make a bird's nest, of any sort common in the
+neighbourhood, so as deceive the most cunning of the nest harrying
+youths of the parish.*
+
+* [See article Martin Fereol, in St. Paul's Magazine vol. iv.
+generally.]
+
+Hardly was he an hour in his new abode ere the sparrows and robins
+began to visit him. Even strange birds of passage flying in at his
+hospitable window, would espy him unscared, and sometimes partake
+of the food he had always at hand to offer them. He relied, indeed,
+for the pleasures of social intercourse with the animal world, on
+stray visits alone; he had no pets--dog nor cat nor bird; for
+his wandering and danger haunted life did not allow such companionship.
+
+He insisted on occupying his new quarters at once. In vain Phemy
+and her uncle showed reason against it. He did not want a bed; he
+much preferred a heap of spies, that is, wood shavings. Indeed,
+he would not have a bed; and whatever he did want he would get
+for himself. Having by word and gesture made this much plain, he
+suddenly darted up the ladder, threw down the trapdoor, and, lo!
+like a hermit crab, he had taken possession. Wisely they left him
+alone.
+
+For a full fortnight he allowed neither to enter the little
+chamber. As often as they called him, he answered cheerfully, but
+never showed himself except when Phemy brought him food, which,
+at his urgent request, was only once in the twenty four hours--
+after nightfall, the last thing before she went to bed; then he
+would slide down the ladder, take what she had brought him, and hurry
+up again. Phemy was perplexed, and at last a good deal distressed,
+for he had always been glad of her company before.
+
+At length, one day, hearing her voice in the shop, and having peeped
+through a hole in the floor to see that no stranger was present,
+he invited her to go up, and lifted the trapdoor.
+
+"Come, come," he said hurriedly, when her head appeared and came
+no farther.
+
+He stood holding the trapdoor, eager to close it again as soon as
+she should step clear of it, and surprise was retarding her ascent.
+
+Before hearing his mind, the carpenter had already made for him,
+by way of bedstead, a simple frame of wood, crossed with laths in
+the form of lattice work: this the laird had taken and set up on
+its side, opposite the window, about two feet from it, so that, with
+abundant passage for air, it served as a screen. Fixing it firmly
+to the floor, he had placed on the top of it a large pot of the
+favourite cottage plant there called Humility, and trained its long
+pendent runners over it. On the floor between it and the window, he
+had ranged a row of flower pots--one of them with an ivy plant,
+which also he had begun to train against the trellis; and already
+the humility and the ivy had begun to intermingle.
+
+At one side of the room, where the sloping roof met the floor, was
+his bed of fresh pine shavings, amongst which, their resinous half
+aromatic odour apparently not sweet enough to content him, he had
+scattered a quantity of dried rose leaves. A thick tartan plaid,
+for sole covering, lay upon the heap.
+
+"I wad hae likit hay better," he said, pointing to this lair rather
+than couch, "but it 's some ill to get, an' the spales they're at
+han', an' they smell unco clean."
+
+At the opposite side of the room lay a corresponding heap,
+differing not a little, however, in appearance and suggestion. As
+far as visible form and material could make it one, it was a grave
+--rather a short one, but abundantly long for the laird. It was
+in reality a heap of mould, about a foot and a half high, covered
+with the most delicate grass, and bespangled with daisies.
+
+"Laird!" said Phemy, half reproachfully, as she stood gazing at
+the marvel, "ye hae been oot at nicht!"
+
+"Aye--a' nicht whiles, whan naebody was aboot 'cep' the win'."
+He pronounced the word with a long drawn imitative sough--"an'
+the cloods an' the splash o' the watter."
+
+Pining under the closer imprisonment in his garret, which the
+discovery of his subterranean refuge had brought upon him, the
+laird would often have made his escape at night but for the fear
+of disturbing the Mairs; and now that there was no one to disturb,
+the temptation to spend his nights in the open air was the more
+irresistible that he had conceived the notion of enticing nature
+herself into his very chamber. Abroad then he had gone, as soon
+as the first midnight closed around his new dwelling, and in the
+fields had with careful discrimination begun to collect the mould
+for his mound, a handful here and a handful there. This took him
+several nights, and when it was finished, he was yet more choice
+in his selection of turf, taking it from the natural grass growing
+along the roads and on the earthen dykes, or walls, the outer
+sides of which feed the portionless cows of that country. Searching
+for miles in the moonlight, he had, with eye and hand, chosen out
+patches of this grass, the shortest and thickest he could find, and
+with a pocket knife, often in pieces of only a few inches, removed
+the best of it and carried it home, to be fitted on the heap, and
+with every ministration and blandishment enticed to flourish. He
+pressed it down with soft firm hands, and beshowered it with water
+first warmed a little in his mouth; when the air was soft, he guided
+the wind to blow upon it; and as the sun could not reach it where
+it lay, he gathered a marvellous heap of all the bright sherds he
+could find--of crockery and glass and mirror, so arranging them
+in the window, that each threw its tiny reflex upon the turf.
+With this last contrivance, Phemy was specially delighted; and the
+laird, happy as a child in beholding her delight, threw himself in
+an ecstasy on the mound and clasped it in his arms. I can hardly
+doubt that he regarded it as representing his own grave, to which
+in his happier moods he certainly looked forward as a place of
+final and impregnable refuge.
+
+As he lay thus, foreshadowing his burial, or rather his resurrection,
+a young canary which had flown from one of the cottages, flitted in
+with a golden shiver and flash, and alighted on his head. He took
+it gently in his hand and committed it to Phemy to carry home, with
+many injunctions against disclosing how it had been captured.
+
+His lonely days were spent in sleep, in tending his plants, or in
+contriving defences; but in all weathers he wandered out at midnight,
+and roamed or rested among fields or rocks till the first signs of
+the breaking day, when he hurried like a wild creature to his den.
+
+Before long he had contrived an ingenious trap, or man spider web,
+for the catching of any human insect that might seek entrance at his
+window: the moment the invading body should reach a certain point,
+a number of lines would drop about him, in making his way through
+which he would straightway be caught by the barbs of countless
+fishhooks--the whole strong enough at least to detain him until
+its inventor should have opened the trapdoor and fled.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII: CREAM OR SCUM?
+
+
+Of the new evil report abroad concerning him, nothing had as yet
+reached Malcolm. He read, and pondered, and wrestled with difficulties
+of every kind; saw only a little of Lady Florimel, who, he thought,
+avoided him; saw less of the marquis; and, as the evenings grew
+longer, spent still larger portions of them with Duncan--now and
+then reading to him, but oftener listening to his music or taking
+a lesson in the piper's art. He went seldom into the Seaton, for
+the faces there were changed towards him. Attributing this to the
+reports concerning his parentage, and not seeing why he should
+receive such treatment because of them, hateful though they might
+well be to himself, he began to feel some bitterness towards his
+early world, and would now and then repeat to himself a misanthropical
+thing he had read, fancying he too had come to that conclusion.
+But there was not much danger of such a mood growing habitual with
+one who knew Duncan MacPhail, Blue Peter, and the schoolmaster--
+not to mention Miss Horn. To know one person who is positively to
+be trusted, will do more for a man's moral nature--yes, for his
+spiritual nature--than all the sermons he has ever heard or ever
+can hear.
+
+One evening, Malcolm thought he would pay Joseph a visit, but when
+he reached Scaurnose, he found it nearly deserted: he had forgotten
+that this was one of the nights of meeting in the Baillies' Barn.
+Phemy indeed had not gone with her father and mother, but she was
+spending the evening with the laird. Lifting the latch, and seeing
+no one in the house, he was on the point of withdrawing when he
+caught sight of an eye peeping through an inch opening of the door
+of the bed closet, which the same moment was hurriedly closed. He
+called, but received no reply, and left the cottage wondering. He
+had not heard that Mrs Mair had given Lizzy Findlay shelter for a
+season. And now a neighbour had observed and put her own construction
+on the visit, her report of which strengthened the general conviction
+of his unworthiness.
+
+Descending from the promontory, and wandering slowly along the shore,
+he met the Scaurnose part of the congregation returning home. The
+few salutations dropped him as he passed were distant, and bore
+an expression of disapproval. Mrs Mair only, who was walking with
+a friend, gave him a kind nod. Blue Peter, who followed at a little
+distance, turned and walked back with him.
+
+" exerceesed i' my min'," he said, as soon as they were clear
+of the stragglers, "aboot the turn things hae taen, doon by at the
+Barn."
+
+"They tell me there's some gey queer customers taen to haudin'
+furth," returned Malcolm.
+
+"It's a fac'," answered Peter. "The fowk 'll hardly hear a word
+noo frae ony o' the aulder an' soberer Christians. They haena the
+gift o' the Speerit, they say. But in place o' steerin' them up
+to tak hold upo' their Maker, thir new lichts set them up to luik
+doon upo' ither fowk, propheseein' an' denuncin', as gien the Lord
+had committit jeedgment into their han's."
+
+"What is 't they tak haud o' to misca' them for?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"It's no sae muckle," answered Peter, "for onything they du, as for
+what they believe or dinna believe. There's an 'uman frae Clamrock
+was o' their pairty the nicht. She stude up an' spak weel, an' weel
+oot, but no to muckle profit, as 't seemed to me; only  maybe
+no a fair jeedge, for I cudna be rid o' the notion 'at she was
+lattin' at mysel' a' the time. I dinna ken what for. An' I cudna
+help wonnerin' gien she kent what fowk used to say aboot hersel'
+whan she was a lass; for gien the sma' half o' that was true, a
+body micht think the new grace gien her wad hae driven her to hide
+her head, i' place o' exaltin' her horn on high. But maybe it was
+a' lees--she kens best hersel'."
+
+"There canna be muckle worship gaein' on wi' ye by this time, than,
+ thinkin'," said Malcolm.
+
+"I dinna like to say 't," returned Joseph; "but there's a speerit
+o' speeritooal pride abroad amang 's, it seems to me, 'at's no
+fawvourable to devotion. They hae taen 't intill their heids, for
+ae thing--an that's what Dilse's Bess lays on at--'at 'cause
+they're fisher fowk, they hae a speecial mission to convert the
+warl'."
+
+"What foon' they that upo'?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"Ow, what the Saviour said to Peter an' the lave o' them 'at was
+fishers--to come to him, an' he would mak them fishers o' men."
+
+"Ay, I see!--What for dinna ye bide at hame, you an' the lave o'
+the douce anes?"
+
+"There ye come upo' the thing 'at 's troublin' me. Are we 'at begude
+it to brak it up? Or are we to stan' aside an' lat it a' gang to
+dirt an' green bree? Or are we to bide wi' them, an warsle aboot
+holy words till we tyne a' stamach for holy things?"
+
+"Cud ye brak it up gien ye tried?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"I doobt no. That's ane o' the considerations 'at hings some sair
+upo' me: see what we hae dune!"
+
+"What for dinna ye gang ower to Maister Graham, an' speir what he
+thinks?"
+
+"What for sud I gang till him? What's he but a fine moaral man? I
+never h'ard 'at he had ony discernment o' the min' o' the speerit."
+
+"That's what Dilse's Bess frae Clamrock wad say aboot yersel',
+Peter."
+
+"An' I doobt she wadna be far wrang."
+
+"Ony gait, she kens nae mair aboot you nor ye ken aboot the maister.
+Ca' ye a man wha cares for naething in h'aven or in earth but the
+wull o' 's Creator--ca' ye sic a man no speeritual? Jist gang ye
+till 'im, an' maybe he'll lat in a glent upo' ye 'at 'll astonish
+ye."
+
+"He's taen unco little enterest in onything 'at was gaein' on."
+
+"Arena ye some wissin' ye hadna taen muckle mair yersel, Peter?"
+
+"'Deed am I! But gien he be giftit like that ye say, what for didna
+he try to haud 's richt?"
+
+"Maybe he thoucht ye wad mak yer mistaks better wantin' him."
+
+"Weel, ye dinna ca' that freenly!"
+
+"What for no? I hae h'ard him say fowk canna come richt 'cep' by
+haein' room to gang wrang. But jist ye gang till him noo. Maybe
+he'll open mair een i' yer heids nor ye kent ye had."
+
+"Weel, maybe we micht du waur. I s' mention the thing to Bow o'
+meal an' Jeames Gentle, an' see what they say--There's nae guid
+to be gotten o' gaein' to the minister, ye see: there's naething
+in him, as the saw says, but what the spune pits intill him."
+
+With this somewhat unfavourable remark, Blue Peter turned homewards.
+Malcolm went slowly back to his room, his tallow candle, and his
+volume of Gibbon.
+
+He read far into the night, and his candle was burning low in the
+socket. Suddenly he sat straight up in his chair, listening: he
+thought he heard a sound in the next room--it was impossible even
+to imagine of what--it was such a mere abstraction of sound. He
+listened with every nerve, but heard nothing more; crept to the
+door of the wizard's chamber, and listened again; listened until
+he could no longer tell whether he heard or not, and felt like a
+deaf man imagining sounds; then crept back to his own room and went
+to bed--all but satisfied that, if it was anything, it must have
+been some shaking window or door he had heard.
+
+But he could not get rid of the notion that he had smelt sulphur.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII: THE SCHOOLMASTER'S COTTAGE
+
+
+The following night, three of the Scaurnose fishermen--Blue Peter,
+Bow o' meal, and Jeames Gentle--called at the schoolmaster's
+cottage in the Alton, and were soon deep in earnest conversation
+with him around his peat fire, in the room which served him for
+study, dining room, and bed chamber. All the summer a honeysuckle
+outside watched his back window for him; now it was guarded within
+by a few flowerless plants. It was a deep little window in a thick
+wall, with an air of mystery, as if thence the privileged might look
+into some region of strange and precious things. The front window
+was comparatively commonplace, with a white muslin curtain across
+the lower half. In the middle of the sanded floor stood a table of
+white deal, much stained with ink. The green painted doors of the
+box bed opposite the hearth stood open, revealing a spotless white
+counterpane. On the wall beside the front window hung by red cords
+three shelves of books; and near the back window stood a dark,
+old fashioned bureau, with pendant brass handles as bright as new,
+supporting a bookcase with glass doors, crowded with well worn
+bindings. A few deal chairs completed the furniture.
+
+"It's a sair vex, sir, to think o' what we a' jeedged to be the
+wark o' the speerit takin' sic a turn!  feart it 'll lie heavy at
+oor door," said Blue Peter, after a sketch of the state of affairs.
+
+"I don't think they can have sunk so low as the early Corinthian
+Church yet," said Mr Graham, "and St. Paul never seems to have
+blamed himself for preaching the gospel to the Corinthians."
+
+"Weel, maybe!" rejoined Mair. "But, meantime, the practical p'int
+is--are we to tyauve (struggle) to set things richt again, or
+are we to lea' them to their ain devices?"
+
+"What power have you to set things right?"
+
+"Nane, sir. The Baillies' Barn 's as free to them as to oorsel's."
+
+"What influence have you, then?"
+
+"Unco little," said Bow o' meal, taking the word. "They're afore
+the win'. An' it 's plain eneuch 'at to stan' up an' oppose them
+wad be but to breed strife an' debate."
+
+"An' that micht put mony a waukent conscience soon' asleep again
+--maybe no to be waukent ony mair," said Blue Peter.
+
+"Then you don't think you can either communicate or receive benefit
+by continuing to take a part in those meetings?"
+
+"I dinna think it," answered all three.
+
+"Then the natural question is--'Why should you go?'"
+
+"We're feart for the guilt o' what the minister ca's shism," said
+Blue Peter.
+
+"That might have occurred to you before you forsook the parish
+church," said the schoolmaster, with a smile.
+
+"But there was nae speeritooal noorishment to be gotten i' that
+houff (haunt)," said Jeames Gentle.
+
+"How did you come to know the want of it?"
+
+"Ow, that cam frae the speerit himsel'-what else?" replied Gentle.
+
+"By what means?"
+
+"By the readin' o' the word an' by prayer," answered Gentle.
+
+"By his ain v'ice i' the hert," said Bow o' meal.
+
+"Then a public assembly is not necessary for the communication of
+the gifts of the spirit?"
+
+They were silent.
+
+"Isn't it possible that the eagerness after such assemblies may
+have something to do with a want of confidence in what the Lord
+says of his kingdom--that it spreads like the hidden leaven--
+grows like the buried seed? My own conviction is, that if a man
+would but bend his energies to live, if he would but try to be a
+true, that is, a godlike man, in all his dealings with his fellows,
+a genuine neighbour and not a selfish unit, he would open such
+channels for the flow of the spirit as no amount of even honest
+and so called successful preaching could."
+
+"Wha but ane was ever fit to lead sic a life 's that?"
+
+"All might be trying after it. In proportion as our candle burns
+it will give light. No talking about light will supply the lack of
+its presence either to the talker or the listeners."
+
+"there's a heap made o' the preachin' o' the word i' the buik
+itsel'," said Peter with emphasis.
+
+"Undoubtedly. But just look at our Lord: he never stopped living
+amongst his people--hasn't stopped yet; but he often refused to
+preach, and personally has given it up altogether now."
+
+"Ay, but ye see he kent what he was duin'."
+
+"And so will every man in proportion as he partakes of his spirit."
+
+"But dinna ye believe there is sic a thing as gettin' a call to
+the preachin'?"
+
+"I do; but even then a man's work is of worth only as it supplements
+his life. A network of spiritual fibres connects the two, makes
+one of them."
+
+"But surely, sir, them 'at 's o' the same min' oucht to meet an'
+stir ane anither up? 'They that feart the Lord spak aften thegither,'
+ye ken."
+
+"What should prevent them? Why should not such as delight in each
+other's society, meet, and talk, and pray together,--address each
+the others if they like? There is plenty of opportunity for that,
+without forsaking the church or calling public meetings. To continue
+your quotation--'The Lord hearkened and heard:' observe, the Lord
+is not here said to hearken to sermons or prayers, but to the talk
+of his people. This would have saved you from false relations with
+men that oppose themselves, caring nothing for the truth--perhaps
+eager to save their souls, nothing more at the very best."
+
+"Sir! sir! what wad ye hae? Daur ye say it 's no a body's first duty
+to save his ain sowl alive?" exclaimed Bow o' meal.
+
+"I daur't--but there's little daur intill 't!" said Mr Graham,
+breaking into Scotch.
+
+Bow o' meal rose from his chair in indignation, Blue Peter made a grasp
+at his bonnet, and Jeames Gentle gave a loud sigh of commiseration.
+
+"I allow it to be a very essential piece of prudence," added the
+schoolmaster, resuming his quieter English--"but the first duty!
+--no. The Catechism might have taught you better than that! To
+mind his chief end must surely be man's first duty; and
+the Catechism says-. 'Man's chief end is to glorify God.'"
+
+"And to enjoy him for ever," supplemented Peter.
+
+"that's a safe consequence. There's no fear of the second if he
+does the first. Anyhow he cannot enjoy him for ever this moment,
+and he can glorify him at once."
+
+"Ay, but hoo?" said Bow o' meal, ready to swoop upon the master's
+reply.
+
+"Just as Jesus Christ did--by doing his will--by obedience."
+
+"That's no faith--it 's works! Ye'll never save yer sowl that
+gait."
+
+"No man can ever save his soul. God only can do that. You can
+glorify him by giving yourself up heart and soul and body and life
+to his Son. Then you shall be saved. That you must leave to him,
+and do what he tells you. There will be no fear of the saving then
+--though it 's not an easy matter--even for him, as has been
+sorely proved."
+
+"An' hoo are we to gie oorsel's up till him?--for ye see we're
+practical kin' o' fowk, huz fisher fowk, Maister Graham," said Bow
+o' meal.
+
+The tone implied that the schoolmaster was not practical.
+
+"I say again--In doing his will and not your own."
+
+"An' what may his wull be?"
+
+"Is he not telling you himself at this moment? Do you not know what
+his will is? How should I come between him and you! For anything I
+know, it may be that you pay your next door neighbour a crown you
+owe him, or make an apology to the one on the other side. I do not
+know: you do."
+
+"Dinna ye think aboot savin' yer ain sowl noo, Maister Graham?"
+said Bow o' meal, returning on their track.
+
+"No, I don't. I've forgotten all about that. I only desire and pray
+to do the will of my God--which is all in all to me."
+
+"What say ye than aboot the sowls o' ither fowk? Wadna ye save
+them, no?"
+
+"Gladly would I save them--but according to the will of God. If
+I were, even unwittingly, to attempt it in any other way, I should
+be casting stumbling blocks in their path, and separating myself
+from my God--doing that which is not of faith, and therefore is
+sin. It is only where a man is at one with God that he can do the
+right thing or take the right way. Whatever springs from any other
+source than the spirit that dwelt in Jesus, is of sin, and works
+to thwart the divine will. Who knows what harm may be done to a
+man by hurrying a spiritual process in him?"
+
+"I doobt, sir, gien yer doctrine was to get a hearin', there wad
+be unco little dune for the glory o' God i' this place!" remarked
+Bow o' meal, with sententious reproof.
+
+"But what was done would be of the right sort, and surpassingly
+powerful."
+
+"Weel, to come back to the business in han'--what wad be yer
+advice?" said Bow o' meal.
+
+"That's a thing none but a lawyer should give. I have shown you
+what seem to me the principles involved: I can do no more."
+
+"Ye dinna ca' that neebourly, whan a body comes speirin' 't?"
+
+"Are you prepared then to take my advice?"
+
+"Ye wadna hae a body du that aforehan'! We micht as weel a' be
+Papists, an' believe as we're tauld."
+
+"Precisely so. But you can exercise your judgment upon the principles
+whereon my opinion is founded, with far more benefit than upon my
+opinion itself--which I cannot well wish you to adopt, seeing
+I think it far better for a man to go wrong upon his own honest
+judgment, than to go right upon anybody else's judgment, however
+honest also."
+
+"Ye hae a heap o' queer doctrines, sir."
+
+"And yet you ask advice of me?"
+
+"We haena ta'en muckle, ony gait," returned Bow o' meal rudely,
+and walked from the cottage.
+
+Jeames Gentle and Blue Peter bade the master a kindly good night,
+and followed Bow o' meal.
+
+The next Sunday evening Blue Peter was again at the Alton, accompanied
+by Gentle and another fisherman, not Bow o' meal, and had another
+and longer conversation with the schoolmaster. The following Sunday
+he went yet again; and from that time, every Sunday evening, as
+soon as he had had his tea, Blue Peter took down his broad bonnet,
+and set out to visit Mr Graham. As he went, one and another would
+join him as he passed, the number increasing every time, until at
+last ten or twelve went regularly.
+
+But Mr Graham did not like such a forsaking of wives and children
+on the Sunday.
+
+"Why shouldn't you bring Mrs Mair with you?" he said one evening,
+addressing Joseph first. Then turning to the rest--"I should be
+happy to see any of your wives who can come," he added; "and some
+of you have children who would be no trouble. If there is any good
+in gathering this way, why shouldn't we have those with us who are
+our best help at all other times?"
+
+"'Deed, sir," said Joseph, "we're sae used to oor wives 'at we're
+ower ready to forget hoo ill we cud du wantin' them."
+
+Mrs Mair and two other wives came the next night. A few hung back
+from modesty and dread of being catechized; but ere long about half
+a dozen went when they could.
+
+I need hardly say that Malcolm, as soon as he learned what was
+going on, made one of the company. And truly, although he did not
+know even yet all the evil that threatened him, he stood in heavy
+need of the support and comfort to be derived from such truths as
+Mr Graham unfolded. Duncan also, although he took little interest
+in what passed, went sometimes, and was welcomed.
+
+The talk of the master not unfrequently lapsed into monologue, and
+sometimes grew eloquent. Seized occasionally by the might of the
+thoughts which arose in him,--thoughts which would, to him, have
+lost all their splendour as well as worth, had he imagined them
+the offspring of his own faculty, meteors of his own atmosphere
+instead of phenomena of the heavenly region manifesting themselves
+on the hollow side of the celestial sphere of human vision,--he
+would break forth in grand poetic speech that roused to aspiration
+Malcolm's whole being, while in the same instant calming him with
+the summer peace of profoundest faith.
+
+To no small proportion of his hearers some of such outbursts were
+altogether unintelligible--a matter of no moment; but there were
+of them who understood enough to misunderstand utterly: interpreting
+his riches by their poverty, they misinterpreted them pitifully,
+and misrepresented them worse. And, alas! in the little company
+there were three or four men who, for all their upward impulses,
+yet remained capable of treachery, because incapable of recognizing
+the temptation to it for what it was. These by and by began to confer
+together and form an opposition--in this at least ungenerous,
+that they continued to assemble at his house, and show little sign
+of dissension. When, however, they began at length to discover that
+the master did not teach that interpretation of atonement which
+they had derived--they little knew whence, but delivered another
+as the doctrine of St. Paul, St. Peter, and St. John, they judged
+themselves bound to take measures towards the quenching of a dangerous
+heresy. For the more ignorant a man is, the more capable is he of
+being absolutely certain of many things--with such certainty,
+that is, as consists in the absence of doubt. Mr Graham, in the
+meantime, full of love, and quiet solemn fervour, placed completest
+confidence in their honesty, and spoke his mind freely and faithfully.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV: ONE DAY
+
+
+The winter was close at hand--indeed, in that northern region,
+might already have claimed entire possession; but the trailing
+golden fringe of the skirts of autumn was yet visible behind him,
+as he wandered away down the slope of the world. In the gentle
+sadness of the season, Malcolm could not help looking back with
+envy to the time when labour, adventure, and danger, stormy winds
+and troubled waters, would have helped him to bear the weight of
+the moral atmosphere which now from morning to night oppressed him.
+Since their last conversation, Lady Florimel's behaviour to him was
+altered. She hardly ever sent for him now, and when she did, gave
+her orders so distantly that at length, but for his grandfather's
+sake, he could hardly have brought himself to remain in the house
+even until the return of his master who was from home, and contemplated
+proposing to him as soon as he came back, that he should leave his
+service and resume his former occupation, at least until the return
+of summer should render it fit to launch the cutter again.
+
+One day, a little after noon, Malcolm stepped from the house. The
+morning had broken gray and squally, with frequent sharp showers,
+and had grown into a gurly gusty day. Now and then the sun sent
+a dim yellow glint through the troubled atmosphere, but it was
+straightway swallowed up in the volumes of vapour seething and
+tumbling in the upper regions. As he crossed the threshold, there
+came a moaning wind from the west, and the water laden branches
+of the trees all went bending before it, shaking their burden of
+heavy drops on the ground. It was dreary, dreary, outside and in.
+He turned and looked at the house. If he might have but one peep
+of the goddess far withdrawn! What did he want of her? Nothing
+but her favour--something acknowledged between them--some
+understanding of accepted worship! Alas it was all weakness, and
+the end thereof dismay! It was but the longing of the opium eater
+or the drinker for the poison which in delight lays the foundations
+of torture. No; he knew where to find food--something that was
+neither opium nor strong drink--something that in torture sustained,
+and, when its fruition came, would, even in the splendours of
+delight, far surpass their short lived boon! He turned towards the
+schoolmaster's cottage.
+
+Under the trees, which sighed aloud in the wind, and, like earth
+clouds, rained upon him as he passed, across the churchyard, bare
+to the gray, hopeless looking sky, through the iron gate he went,
+and opened the master's outer door. Ere he reached that of his
+room, he heard his voice inviting him to enter.
+
+"Come to condole with me, Malcolm?" said Mr Graham cheerily.
+
+"What for, sir?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"You haven't heard, then, that  going to be sent about my
+business? At least, it 's more than likely."
+
+Malcolm dropped into a seat, and stared like an idol. Could he have
+heard the words? In his eyes Mr Graham was the man of the place--
+the real person of the parish. He dismissed! The words breathed of
+mingled impiety and absurdity.
+
+The schoolmaster burst out laughing at him.
+
+" feart to speyk, sir," said Malcolm. "Whatever I say,  bun'
+to mak a fule o' mysel'! What in plain words div ye mean, sir?"
+
+"Somebody has been accusing me of teaching heresy--in the school
+to my scholars, and in my own house to the fisherfolk: the presbytery
+has taken it up, and here is my summons to appear before them and
+answer to the charge."
+
+"Guid preserve 's, sir! And is this the first ye hae h'ard o't?"
+
+"The very first."
+
+"An' what are ye gauin' to do?"
+
+"Appear, of course."
+
+"An' what 'll ye say to them?"
+
+"I shall answer their questions."
+
+"They 'll condemn ye!"
+
+"I do not doubt it."
+
+"An' what neist?"
+
+"I shall have to leave Scotland, I suppose."
+
+"Sir, it 's awfu'."
+
+The horror stricken expression of Malcolm's face drew a second
+merry laugh from Mr Graham.
+
+"They can't burn me," he said: "you needn't look like that."
+
+"But there's something terrible wrang, sir, whan sic men hae pooer
+ower sic a man.
+
+"They have no power but what's given them. I shall accept their
+decision as the decree of heaven."
+
+"It's weel to be you, sir--'at can tak a thing sae quaiet."
+
+"You mustn't suppose I am naturally so philosophical. It stands
+for five and forty years of the teaching of the Son of Man in this
+wonderful school of his, where the clever would be destroyed but
+for the stupid, where the church would tear itself to pieces but
+for the laws of the world, and where the wicked themselves are the
+greatest furtherance of godliness in the good."
+
+"But wha ever cud hae been baze eneuch to du 't!" said Malcolm,
+too much astounded for his usual eager attention to the words that
+fell from the master.
+
+"That I would rather not inquire," answered Mr Graham. "In the
+meantime it would be better if the friends would meet somewhere
+else, for this house is mine only in virtue of my office. Will you
+tell them so for me?"
+
+"Surely, sir. But will ye no mak ane?"
+
+"Not till this is settled. I will after, so long as I may be here."
+
+"Gien onybody had been catecheesin' the bairns, I wad surely hae
+h'ard o' 't!" said Malcolm, after a pause of rumination, "Poochy
+wad hae tellt me. I saw him thestreen (yestereven).--Wha 'll ever
+say again a thing's no poassible!"
+
+"Whatever doctrine I may have omitted to press in the school,"
+said Mr Graham, "I have inculcated nothing at variance with the
+Confession of Faith or the Shorter Catechism."
+
+"Hoo can ye say that, sir?" returned Malcolm, "whan, in as weel's
+oot o' the schuil, ye hae aye insistit 'at God 's a just God--
+abune a' thing likin' to gie fair play?"
+
+"Well, does the Catechism say anything to the contrary?"
+
+"No in sae mony words, doobtless; but it says a sicht o' things
+'at wad mak God oot the maist oonrichteous tyrant 'at ever was."
+
+" not sure you can show that logically," said Mr Graham. "I will
+think it over, however--not that I mean to take up any defence
+of myself. But now I have letters to write, and must ask you to
+leave me. Come and see me again tomorrow."
+
+Malcolm went from him--
+
+like one that hath been stunned,
+And is of sense forlorn.
+
+Here was trouble upon trouble! But what had befallen him compared
+with what had come upon the schoolmaster! A man like him to be so
+treated! How gladly he would work for him all the rest of his days!
+And how welcome his grandfather would make him to his cottage! Lord
+Lossie would be the last to object. But he knew it was a baseless
+castle while he built it, for Mr Graham would assuredly provide
+for himself, if it were by breaking stones on the road and saying
+the Lord's Prayer. It all fell to pieces just as he lifted his hand
+to Miss Horn's knocker.
+
+She received him with a cordiality such as even she had never shown
+him before. He told her what threatened Mr Graham. She heard him
+to the end without remark, beyond the interjection of an occasional
+"Eh, sirs!" then sat for a minute in troubled silence.
+
+"There's a heap o' things an 'uman like me," she said at length,
+"canna un'erstan'. I didna ken whether some fowk mair nor preten'
+to un'erstan' them. But set Sandy Graham doon upo' ae side, an' the
+presbytery doon upo' the ither, an' I hae wit eneuch to ken whilk
+I wad tak my eternal chance wi'. Some o' the presbytery's guid
+eneuch men, but haena ower muckle gumption; an' some o' them has
+plenty o' gumption, but haena ower muckle grace, ta jeedge by the
+w'y 'at they glower an' rair, layin' doon the law as gien the Almichty
+had been driven to tak coonsel wi' them. But luik at Sandy Graham!
+Ye ken whether he has gumption or no; an' gien he be a stickit
+minister, he stack by the grace o' moadesty. But, haith, I winna
+peety him! for, o' a' things, to peety a guid man i' the richt gate
+is a fule's folly. Troth,  a hantle mair concernt about yersel',
+Ma'colm!"
+
+Malcolm heard her without apprehension. His cup seemed full, and
+he never thought that cups sometimes run over. But perhaps he was
+so far the nearer to a truth: while the cup of blessing may and
+often does run over, I doubt if the cup of suffering is ever more
+than filled to the brim.
+
+"Onything fresh, mem?" he asked, with the image of Mrs Stewart
+standing ghastly on the slopes of his imagination.
+
+"I wadna be fit to tell ye, laddie, gien 't warna, as ye ken, 'at
+the Almichty 's been unco mercifu' to me i' the maitter o' feelin's.
+Yer freen's i' the Seaton, an' ower at Scaurnose, hae feelin's,
+an' that's hoo nane o' them a' has pluck it up hert to tell ye o'
+the waggin' o' slanderous tongues against ye."
+
+"What are they sayin' noo?" asked Malcolm with considerable
+indifference.
+
+"Naither mair nor less than that ye're the father o' an oonborn
+wean," answered Miss Horn.
+
+"I dinna freely unnerstan' ye," returned Malcolm, for the unexpectedness
+of the disclosure was scarcely to be mastered at once.
+
+I shall not put on record the plain form of honest speech whereby
+she made him at once comprehend the nature of the calumny. He
+started to his feet, and shouted "Wha daur say that?" so loud that
+the listening Jean almost fell down the stair.
+
+"Wha sud say 't but the lassie hersel'?" answered Miss Horn simply.
+"She maun hae the best richt to say wha's wha."
+
+"It wad better become anybody but her," said Malcolm.
+
+"What mean ye there, laddie?" cried Miss Horn, alarmed.
+
+"'At nane cud ken sae weel 's hersel' it was a damned lee. Wha is
+she?"
+
+"Wha but Meg Partan's Lizzy!"
+
+"Puir lassie! is that it?--Eh, but  sorry for her! She never
+said it was me. An' whaever said it, surely ye dinna believe 't o'
+me, mem?"
+
+"Me believe 't! Malcolm MacPhail, wull ye daur insult a maiden
+wuman 'at's stude clear o' reproch till she's lang past the danger
+o' 't? It's been wi' unco sma' diffeeclety, I maun alloo, for I
+haena been led into ony temptation!"
+
+"Eh, mem!" returned Malcolm, perceiving by the flash of her eyes
+and the sudden halt of her speech that she was really indignant--
+"I dinna ken what I hae said to anger ye!"
+
+"Anger me! quo' he? What though I hae nae feelin's! Will he daur till
+imaigine 'at he wad be sittin' there, an' me haudin' him company,
+gien I believed him cawpable o' turnin' oot sic a meeserable,
+contemptible wratch! The Lord come atween me an' my wrath!"
+
+"I beg yer pardon, mem. A body canna aye put things thegither afore
+he speyks.  richt sair obleeged till ye for takin' my pairt."
+
+"I tak naebody's pairt but my ain, laddie. Obleeged to me for
+haein' a wheen common sense--a thing 'at I was born wi'! Toots!
+Dinna haiver."
+
+"Weel, mem, what wad ye hae me du? I canna sen' my auld daddie
+roon the toon wi' his pipes, to procleem 'at  no the man.
+thinkin' I 'll hae to lea' the place."
+
+"Wad ye sen' yer daddy roun' wi' the pipes to say 'at ye was the
+man? Ye micht as weel du the tane as the tither. Mony a better man
+has been waur misca'd, an' gart fowk forget that ever the lee was
+lee'd. Na, na; never rim frae a lee. An' never say, naither, 'at
+ye didna du the thing, 'cept it be laid straucht to yer face. Lat
+a lee lie i' the dirt. Gien ye pike it up, the dirt 'll stick till
+ye, though ye fling the lee ower the dyke at the warl's en'. Na,
+na! Lat a lee lie, as ye wad the deevil's tail 'at the laird's Jock
+took aff wi' the edge o' 's spaud."
+
+"A' thing 's agane me the noo!" sighed Malcolm.
+
+"Auld Jobb ower again!" returned Miss Horn almost sarcastically.
+"The deil had the warst o' 't though, an' wull hae, i' the lang
+hinner en'. Meanwhile ye maun face him. There's nae airmour for
+the back aither i' the Bible or i' the Pilgrim's Progress."
+
+"What wad ye hae me du, than, mem?"
+
+"Du? Wha said ye was to du onything? The best duin whiles is to bide
+still. Lat ye the jaw (wave) gae ower ohn joukit (without ducking)."
+
+"Gien I binna to du onything, I maist wiss I hadna kent," said
+Malcolm, whose honourable nature writhed under the imputed vileness.
+
+"It's aye better to ken in what licht ye stan' wi' ither fowk.
+It hauds ye ohn lippent ower muckle, an' sae dune things or made
+remarks 'at wad be misread till ye. Ye maun haud an open ro'd, 'at
+the trowth whan it comes oot may have free course. The ae thing
+'at spites me is, 'at the verra fowk 'at was the first to spread
+yer ill report, 'ill be the first to wuss ye weel whan the trowth's
+kent--ay, an they 'll persuaud their verra sel's 'at they stuck
+up for ye like born brithers."
+
+"There maun be some jeedgement upo' leein'!"
+
+"The warst wuss I hae agane ony sic back biter is that he may live
+to be affrontit at himsel'. Efter that he'll be guid eneuch company
+for me. Gang yer wa's, laddie; say yer prayers, an' haud up yer
+heid. Wha wadna raither be accused o' a' the sins o' the comman'ments
+nor be guilty o' ane o' them?"
+
+Malcolm did hold up his head as he walked away.
+
+Not a single person was in the street Far below, the sea was chafing
+and tossing--grey green broken into white. The horizon was formless
+with mist, hanging like thin wool from the heavens down to the face
+of the waters, against which the wind, which had shifted round
+considerably towards the north, and blew in quicker coming and
+more menacing gusts, appeared powerless. He would have gone to the
+sands and paced the shore till nightfall, but that he would not
+expose himself thus to unfriendly eyes and false judgments. He
+turned to the right instead, and walked along the top of the cliffs
+eastward. Buffeted by winds without and hurrying fancies within, he
+wandered on until he came near Colonsay Castle, at sight of which
+the desire awoke in him to look again on the scene of Lady Florimel's
+terror. He crossed the head of the little bay and descended into
+the heart of the rock. Even there the wind blew dank and howling
+through all the cavernous hollows. As he approached the last chamber,
+out of the Devil's Window flew, with clanging wing, an arrow barbed
+seagull, down to the grey veiled tumult below, and the joy of life
+for a moment seized his soul. But the next, the dismay of that
+which is forsaken was upon him. It was not that the once lordly
+structure lay abandoned to the birds and the gusts, but that she would
+never think of the place without an instant assay at forgetfulness.
+He turned and reascended, feeling like a ghost that had been
+wandering through the forlorn chambers of an empty skull.
+
+When he rose on the bare top of the ruin, a heavy shower from the
+sea was beating slant against the worn walls and gaping clefts.
+Myriads of such rains had, with age long inevitableness, crumbled
+away the strong fortress till its threatful mass had sunk to an abject
+heap. Thus all devouring Death--nay, nay! it is all sheltering,
+all restoring mother Nature, receiving again into her mighty matrix
+the stuff worn out in the fashioning toil of her wasteful, greedy,
+and slatternly children. In her genial bosom, the exhausted gathers
+life, the effete becomes generant, the disintegrate returns to
+resting and capable form. The rolling oscillating globe dips it
+for an aeon in growing sea, lifts it from the sinking waters of its
+thousand year bath to the furnace of the sun, remodels and remoulds,
+turns ashes into flowers, and divides mephitis into diamonds and
+breath. The races of men shift and hover like shadows over her
+surface, while, as a woman dries her garment before the household
+flame, she turns it, by portions, now to and now from the sun heart
+of fire. Oh joy that all the hideous lacerations and vile gatherings
+of refuse which the worshippers of mammon disfigure the earth withal,
+scoring the tale of their coming dismay on the visage of their
+mother, shall one day lie fathoms deep under the blessed ocean,
+to be cleansed and remade into holy because lovely forms! May the
+ghosts of the men who mar the earth, turning her sweet rivers into
+channels of filth, and her living air into irrespirable vapours
+and pestilences, haunt the desolations they have made, until they
+loathe the work of their hands, and turn from themselves with a
+divine repudiation.
+
+It was about half tide, and the sea coming up, with the wind straight
+from the north, when Malcolm, having descended to the shore of
+the little bay, and scrambled out upon the rocks, bethought him of
+a certain cave which he had not visited since he was a child, and
+climbing over the high rocks between, took shelter there from the
+wind. He had forgotten how beautiful it was, and stood amazed at
+the richness of its colour, imagining he had come upon a cave of
+the serpentine marble which is found on the coast; for sides and
+roof and rugged floor were gorgeous with bands and spots and veins
+of green, and rusty red. A nearer inspection, however, showed that
+these hues were not of the rock itself but belonged to the garden
+of the ocean, and when he turned to face the sea, lo! they had
+all but vanished, the cave shone silvery gray, with a faint moony
+sparkle, and out came the lovely carving of the rodent waves. All
+about, its sides were fretted in exquisite curves, and fantastic
+yet ever graceful knots and twists; as if a mass of gnarled and
+contorted roots, first washed of every roughness by some ethereal
+solvent, leaving only the soft lines of yet grotesque volutions,
+had been transformed into mingled silver and stone. Like a soldier
+crab that had found a shell to his mind, he gazed through the
+yawning mouth of the cavern at the turmoil of the rising tide, as
+it rushed straight towards him through a low jagged channel in the
+rocks. But straight with the tide came the wind, blowing right into
+the cave; and finding it keener than pleasant, he turned and went
+farther in. After a steep ascent some little way, the cavern took
+a sharp turn to one side, where not a breath of wind, not a glimmer
+of light, reached, and there he sat down upon a stone, and fell a
+thinking.
+
+He must face the lie out, and he must accept any mother God had
+given him: but with such a mother as Mrs Stewart, and without Mr
+Graham, how was he to endure the altered looks of his old friends?
+Faces indifferent before, had grown suddenly dear to him; and
+opinions he would have thought valueless once, had become golden in
+his eyes. Had he been such as to deserve their reproaches, he would
+doubtless have steeled himself to despise them; but his innocence
+bound him to the very people who judged him guilty. And there was
+that awful certainty slowly but steadily drawing nearer--that
+period of vacant anguish, in which Lady Florimel must vanish from
+his sight, and the splendour of his life go with her, to return no
+more.
+
+But not even yet did he cherish any fancy of coming nearer to
+her than the idea of absolute service authorized. As often as the
+fancy had, compelled by the lady herself, crossed the horizon of
+his thoughts, a repellent influence from the same source had been
+at hand to sweep it afar into its antenatal chaos. But his love
+rose ever from the earth to which the blow had hurled it, purified
+again, once more all devotion and no desire, careless of recognition
+beyond the acceptance of its offered service, and content that
+the be all should be the end all.
+
+The cave seemed the friendliest place he had yet found. Earth herself
+had received him into her dark bosom, where no eye could discover
+him, and no voice reach him but that of the ocean, as it tossed
+and wallowed in the palm of God's hand. He heard its roar on the
+rocks around him; and the air was filled with a loud noise of broken
+waters, while every now and then the wind rushed with a howl into
+the cave, as if searching for him in its crannies; the wild raving
+soothed him, and he felt as if he would gladly sit there, in the dark
+torn with tumultuous noises, until his fate had unfolded itself.
+
+The noises thickened around him as the tide rose; but so gradually
+that, although at length he could not have heard his own voice, he
+was unaware of the magnitude to which the mighty uproar had enlarged
+itself. Suddenly, something smote the rock as with the hammer of
+Thor, and, as suddenly, the air around him grew stifling hot. The
+next moment it was again cold. He started to his feet in wonder,
+and sought the light. As he turned the angle, the receding back of
+a huge green foam spotted wave, still almost touching the roof of
+the cavern, was sweeping out again into the tumult. It had filled
+the throat of it, and so compressed the air within by the force
+of its entrance, as to drive out for the moment a large portion of
+its latent heat. Looking then at his watch, Malcolm judged it must
+be about high tide: brooding in the darkness, he had allowed the
+moments to lapse unheeded, and it was now impossible to leave the
+cavern until the tide had fallen. He returned into its penetral, and
+sitting down with the patience of a fisherman, again lost himself
+in reverie.
+
+The darkness kept him from perceiving how the day went, and the
+rapidly increasing roar of the wind made the diminishing sound
+of the tide's retreat less noticeable. He thought afterwards that
+perhaps he had fallen asleep; anyhow, when at length he looked out,
+the waves were gone from the rock, and the darkness was broken only
+by the distant gleam of their white defeat. The wind was blowing
+a hurricane, and even for his practised foot, it was not easy to
+surmount the high, abrupt spines he must cross to regain the shore.
+It was so dark that he could see nothing of the castle, though it
+was but a few yards from him; and he resolved therefore, the path
+along the top of the cliffs being unsafe, to make his way across
+the fields, and return by the high road. The consequence was,
+that, what with fences and ditches, the violence of the wind, and
+uncertainty about his direction, it was so long before he felt the
+hard road under his feet that with good reason he feared the house
+would be closed for the night ere he reached it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV: THE SAME NIGHT
+
+
+When he came within sight of it, however, he perceived, by the
+hurried movement of lights, that instead of being folded in silence,
+the house was in unwonted commotion. As he hastened to the south
+door, the prince of the power of the air himself seemed to resist
+his entrance, so fiercely did the wind, eddying round the building,
+dispute every step he made towards it; and when at length he reached
+and opened it, a blast, rushing up the glen straight from the sea,
+burst wide the opposite one, and roared through the hall like a
+torrent. Lady Florimel, flitting across it at the moment, was almost
+blown down, and shrieked aloud for help. Malcolm was already at the
+north door, exerting all his strength to close it, when she spied
+him, and, bounding to him, with white face and dilated eyes,
+exclaimed--"Oh Malcolm! what a time you have been!"
+
+"What's wrang, my leddy?" cried Malcolm with respondent terror.
+
+"Don't you hear it?" she answered. "The wind is blowing the house
+down. There's just been a terrible fall, and every moment I hear
+it going. If my father were only come! We shall be all blown into
+the burn."
+
+"Nae fear o' that, my leddy!" returned Malcolm. "The wa's o' the
+auld carcass are 'maist live rock, an' 'ill stan' the warst win'
+'at ever blew--this side o' the tropics, ony gait. Gien 't war
+ance to get its nose in, I wadna say but it micht tirr (strip) the
+rufe, but it winna blaw 's intil the burn, my leddy. I'll jist gang
+and see what's the mischeef."
+
+He was moving away, but Lady Florimel stopped him. "No, no,
+Malcolm!" she said. "It's very silly of me, I dare say; but I've
+been so frightened. They're such a set of geese--Mrs Courthope,
+and the butler, and all of them! Don't leave me, please."
+
+"I maun gang and see what's amiss, my leddy," answered Malcolm;
+"but ye can come wi' me gien ye like. What's fa'en, div ye think?"
+
+"Nobody knows. It fell with a noise like thunder, and shook the
+whole house."
+
+"It's far ower dark to see onything frae the ootside," rejoined
+Malcolm, "at least afore the mune's up. It's as dark's pick. But I
+can sune saitisfee mysel' whether the deil 's i' the hoose or no."
+
+He took a candle from the hall table, and went up the square
+staircase, followed by Florimel.
+
+"What w'y is 't, my leddy, 'at the hoose is no lockit up, an' ilka
+body i' their beds?" he asked.
+
+"My father is coming home tonight. Didn't you know? But I should
+have thought a storm like this enough to account for people not
+being in bed!"
+
+"It's a fearfu' nicht for him to be sae far frae his! Whaur's he
+comin' frae! Ye never speyk to me noo, my leddy, an' naebody tell't
+me."
+
+"He was to come from Fochabers tonight. Stoat took the bay mare to
+meet him yesterday."
+
+"He wad never start in sic a win'! It's fit to blaw the saiddle
+aff o' the mear's back."
+
+"He may have started before it came on to blow like this," said
+Lady Florimel.
+
+Malcolm liked the suggestion the less because of its probability,
+believing, in that case, he should have arrived long ago. But he
+took care not to increase Florimel's alarm.
+
+By this time Malcolm knew the whole of the accessible inside of the
+roof well--better far than any one else about the house. From one
+part to another, over the whole of it, he now led Lady Florimel.
+In the big shadowed glimmer of his one candle, all parts of the
+garret seemed to him frowning with knitted brows over resentful
+memories--as if the phantom forms of all the past joys and self
+renewing sorrows, all the sins and wrongs, all the disappointments
+and failures of the house, had floated up, generation after
+generation, into that abode of helpless brooding, and there hung
+hovering above the fast fleeting life below, which now, in its turn,
+was ever sending up like fumes from heart and brain, to crowd the
+dim, dreary, larva haunted, dream wallowing chaos of half obliterated
+thought and feeling. To Florimel it looked a dread waste, a
+region deserted and forgotten, mysterious with far reaching nooks
+of darkness, and now awful with the wind raving and howling over
+slates and leads so close to them on all sides,--as if a flying
+army of demons were tearing at the roof to get in and find covert
+from pursuit.
+
+At length they approached Malcolm's own quarters, where they would
+have to pass the very door of the wizard's chamber to reach a short
+ladder-like stair that led up into the midst of naked rafters, when,
+coming upon a small storm window near the end of a long passage,
+Lady Florimel stopped and peeped out.
+
+"The moon is rising," she said, and stood looking.
+
+Malcolm glanced over her shoulder. Eastward a dim light shone
+up from behind the crest of a low hill. Great part of the sky was
+clear, but huge masses of broken cloud went sweeping across the
+heavens. The wind had moderated.
+
+"Aren't we somewhere near your friend the wizard?" said Lady
+Florimel, with a slight tremble in the tone of mockery with which
+she spoke.
+
+Malcolm answered as if he were not quite certain.
+
+"Isn't your own room somewhere hereabouts?" asked the girl sharply.
+
+"We'll jist gang till ae ither queer place," observed Malcolm,
+pretending not to have heard her, "and gien the rufe be a' richt
+there, I s' no bather my heid mair aboot it till the mornin'. It's
+but a feow steps farther, an' syne a bit stair."
+
+A fit of her not unusual obstinacy had however seized Lady Florimel.
+
+"I won't move a step," she said, "until you have told me where the
+wizard's chamber is."
+
+"Ahint ye, my leddy, gien ye wull hae 't," answered Malcolm, not
+unwilling to punish her a little; "--jist at the far en' o' the
+transe there."
+
+In fact the window in which she stood, lighted the whole length of
+the passage from which it opened.
+
+Even as he spoke, there sounded somewhere as it were the slam of
+a heavy iron door, the echoes of which seemed to go searching into
+every cranny of the multitudinous garrets. Florimel gave a shriek,
+and laying hold of Malcolm, clung to him in terror. A sympathetic
+tremor, set in motion by her cry, went vibrating through the
+fisherman's powerful frame, and, almost involuntarily, he clasped
+her close. With wide eyes they stood staring down the long passage,
+of which, by the poor light they carried, they could not see a
+quarter of the length. Presently they heard a soft footfall along
+its floor, drawing slowly nearer through the darkness; and slowly
+out of the darkness grew the figure of a man, huge and dim, clad
+in a long flowing garment, and coming straight on to where they
+stood. They clung yet closer together. The apparition came within
+three yards of them, and then they recognized Lord Lossie in his
+dressing gown.
+
+They started asunder. Florimel flew to her father, and Malcolm
+stood, expecting the last stroke of his evil fortune. The marquis
+looked pale, stern, and agitated. Instead of kissing his daughter
+on the forehead as was his custom, he put her from him with
+one expanded palm, but the next moment drew her to his side. Then
+approaching Malcolm, he lighted at his the candle he carried, which
+a draught had extinguished on the way.
+
+"Go to your room, MacPhail," he said, and turned from him, his arm
+still round Lady Florimel.
+
+They walked a way together down the long passage, vaguely visible
+in flickering fits. All at once their light vanished, and with
+it Malcolm's eyes seemed to have left him. But a merry laugh, the
+silvery thread in which was certainly Florimel's, reached his ears,
+and brought him to himself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI: SOMETHING FORGOTTEN
+
+
+I will not trouble my reader with the thoughts that kept rising,
+flickering, and fading, one after another, for two or three dismal
+hours, as he lay with eyes closed but sleepless. At length he opened
+them wide, and looked out into the room. It was a bright moonlit
+night; the wind had sunk to rest; all the world slept in the exhaustion
+of the storm; he only was awake; he could lie no longer; he would
+go out, and discover, if possible, the mischief the tempest had
+done.
+
+He crept down the little spiral stair used only by the servants,
+and knowing all the mysteries of lock and bar, was presently in the
+open air. First he sought a view of the building against the sky,
+but could not see that any portion was missing. He then proceeded
+to walk round the house, in order to find what had fallen.
+
+There was a certain neglected spot nearly under his own window, where
+a wall across an interior angle formed a little court or yard; he
+had once peeped in at the door of it, which was always half open,
+and seemed incapable of being moved in either direction, but had
+seen nothing except a broken pail and a pile of brushwood; the flat
+arch over this door was broken, and the door itself half buried
+in a heap of blackened stones and mortar. Here was the avalanche
+whose fall had so terrified the household! The formless mass had
+yesterday been a fair proportioned and ornate stack of chimneys.
+
+He scrambled to the top of the heap and sitting down on a stone
+carved with a plaited Celtic band, yet again fell athinking. The
+marquis must dismiss him in the morning; would it not be better to
+go away now, and spare poor old Duncan a terrible fit of rage? He
+would suppose he had fled from the pseudo maternal net of Mrs Stewart;
+and not till he had found a place to which he could welcome him
+would he tell him the truth. But his nature recoiled both from the
+unmanliness of such a flight, and from the appearance of conscious
+wrong it must involve, and he dismissed the notion. Scheme after
+scheme for the future passed through his head, and still he sat
+on the heap in the light of the high gliding moon, like a ghost on
+the ruins of his earthly home, and his eyes went listlessly straying
+like servants without a master. Suddenly he found them occupied
+with a low iron studded door in the wall of the house, which he
+had never seen before. He descended, and found it hardly closed,
+for there was no notch to receive the heavy latch. Pushing it open
+on great rusty hinges, he saw within what in the shadow appeared
+a precipitous descent. His curiosity was roused; he stole back
+to his room and fetched his candle; and having, by the aid of his
+tinderbox, lighted it in the shelter of the heap, peeped again
+through the doorway, and saw what seemed a narrow cylindrical pit,
+only, far from showing a great yawning depth, it was filled with
+stones and rubbish nearly to the bottom of the door. The top of the
+door reached almost to the vaulted roof, one part of which, close
+to the inner side of the circular wall, was broken. Below this
+breach, fragments of stone projected from the wall, suggesting the
+remnants of a stair. With the sight came a foresight of discovery.
+
+One foot on the end of a long stone sticking vertically from the
+rubbish, and another on one of the stones projecting from the wall,
+his head was already through the break in the roof; and in a minute
+more he was climbing a small, broken, but quite passable spiral
+staircase, almost a counterpart of that already described as going
+like a huge augerbore through the house from top to bottom--that
+indeed by which he had just descended. There was most likely more
+of it buried below, probably communicating with an outlet in some
+part of the rock towards the burn, but the portion of it which, from
+long neglect, had gradually given way, had fallen down the shaft,
+and cut off the rest with its ruins.
+
+At the height of a storey, he came upon a built up doorway, and
+again, at a similar height, upon another; but the parts filled in
+looked almost as old as the rest of the wall. Not until he reached
+the top of the stair, did he find a door. It was iron studded, and
+heavily hinged, like that below. It opened outward--noiselessly
+he found, as if its hinges had been recently oiled, and admitted
+him to a small closet, the second door of which he opened hurriedly,
+with a beating heart. Yes! there was the check curtained bed! it
+must be the wizard's chamber! Crossing to another door, he found
+it both locked and further secured by a large iron bolt in a strong
+staple. This latter he drew back, but there was no key in the lock.
+With scarce a doubt remaining, he shot down the one stair and flew
+up the other to try the key that lay in his chest. One moment and
+he stood in the same room, admitted by the door next his own.
+
+Some exposure was surely not far off! Anyhow here was room for counter
+plot, on the chance of baffling something underhand--villainy
+most likely, where Mrs Catanach was concerned!--And yet, with
+the control of it thus apparently given into his hands, he must
+depart, leaving the house at the mercy of a low woman--for the
+lock of the wizard's door would not exclude her long if she wished
+to enter and range the building! He would not go, however, without
+revealing all to the marquis, and would at once make some provision
+towards her discomfiture.
+
+Going to the forge, and bringing thence a long bar of iron to use
+as a lever, he carefully drew from the door frame the staple of
+the bolt, and then replaced it so, that, while it looked just as
+before, a good push would now send it into the middle of the room.
+Lastly, he slid the bolt into it, after having carefully removed
+all traces of disturbance, left the mysterious chamber by its own
+stair, and once more ascending to the passage, locked the door,
+and retired to his room with the key.
+
+He had now plenty to think about beyond himself! Here certainly
+was some small support to the legend of the wizard earl. The stair
+which he had discovered, had been in common use at one time; its
+connection with other parts of the house had been cut off with an
+object; and by degrees it had come to be forgotten altogether; many
+villainies might have been effected by means of it. Mrs Catanach
+must have discovered it the same night on which he found her there,
+had gone away by it then, and had certainly been making use of it
+since. When he smelt the sulphur, she must have been lighting a
+match.
+
+It was now getting towards morning, and at last he was tired. He
+went to bed and fell asleep. When he woke, it was late, and as he
+dressed, he heard the noise of hoofs and wheels in the stable yard.
+He was sitting at breakfast in Mrs Courthope's room, when she came
+in full of surprise at the sudden departure of her lord and lady.
+The marquis had rung for his man, and Lady Florimel for her maid,
+as soon as it was light; orders were sent at once to the stable;
+four horses were put to the travelling carriage; and they were
+gone, Mrs Courthope could not tell whither.
+
+Dreary as was the house without Florimel, things had turned out a
+shade or two better than Malcolm had expected, and he braced himself
+to endure his loss.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII: THE LAIRD'S QUEST
+
+
+Things were going pretty well with the laird: Phemy and he drew
+yet closer to each other, and as he became yet more peaceful in her
+company, his thoughts flowed more freely, and his utterance grew
+less embarrassed; until at length, in talking with her, his speech
+was rarely broken with even a slight impediment, and a stranger
+might have overheard a long conversation between them without
+coming to any more disparaging conclusion in regard to him than
+that the hunchback was peculiar in mind as well as in body. But his
+nocturnal excursions continuing to cause her apprehension, and his
+representations of the delights to be gathered from Nature while
+she slept, at the same time alluring her greatly, Phemy had become,
+both for her own pleasure and his protection, anxious in these also
+to be his companion.
+
+With a vital recognition of law, and great loyalty to any utterance
+of either parent, she had yet been brought up in an atmosphere of
+such liberty, that except a thing were expressly so conditioned,
+or in itself appeared questionable, she never dreamed of asking
+permission to do it; and, accustomed as she had been to go with
+the laird everywhere, and to be out with him early and late, her
+conscience never suggested the possibility of any objection to her
+getting up at twelve, instead of four or five, to accompany him.
+It was some time, however, before the laird himself would consent;
+and then he would not unfrequently interpose with limitations,
+especially, if the night were not mild and dry, sending her always
+home again to bed. The mutual rule and obedience between them was
+something at once strange and lovely.
+
+At midnight Phemy would enter the shop, and grope her way until
+she stood under the trapdoor. This was the nearest she could come
+to the laird's chamber, for he had not only declined having the
+ladder stand there for his use, but had drawn a solemn promise from
+the carpenter that at night it should always be left slung up to
+the joists. For himself he had made a rope ladder, which he could
+lower from beneath when he required it, invariably drew up after
+him, and never used for coming down.
+
+One night Phemy made her customary signal by knocking against the
+trapdoor with a long slip of wood: it opened, and, as usual, the
+body of the laird appeared, hung for a moment in the square gap,
+like a huge spider, by its two hands, one on each side, then dropped
+straight to the floor, when, without a word, he hastened forth,
+and Phemy followed.
+
+The night was very still--and rather dark, for it was cloudy about
+the horizon, and there was no moon. Hand in hand the two made for
+the shore--here very rocky--a succession of promontories with
+little coves between. Down into one of these they went by a winding
+path, and stood at the lip of the sea. A violet dimness, or, rather,
+a semi-transparent darkness, hung over it, through which came now
+and then a gleam, where the slow heave of some Triton shoulder caught
+a shine of the sky; a hush also, as of sleep, hung over it, which
+not to break, the wavelets of the rising tide carefully stilled
+their noises; and the dimness and the hush seemed one. They sat
+down on a rock that rose but a foot or two from the sand and for
+some moments listened in silence to the inarticulate story of the
+night. At length the laird turned to Phemy, and taking one of her
+hands in both of his, very solemnly said, as if breaking to her
+his life's trouble, "Phemy, I dinna ken whaur I cam frae."
+
+"Hoot, laird! ye ken weel eneuch ye cam frae Go-od," answered Phemy,
+lengthening out the word with solemn utterance.
+
+The laird did not reply, and again the night closed around them,
+and the sea hushed at their hearts. But a soft light air began
+to breathe from the south, and it waked the laird to more active
+thought.
+
+"Gien he wad but come oot an' shaw himsel'!" he said. "What for
+disna he come oot?"
+
+"Wha wad ye hae come oot?" asked Phemy.
+
+"Ye ken wha, weel eneuch. They say he 's a' gait at ance: jist
+hearken. What for will he aye bide in, an' never come oot an' lat
+a puir body see him?"
+
+The speech was broken into pauses, filled by the hush rather than
+noise of the tide, and the odour-like wandering of the soft air in
+the convolutions of their ears.
+
+"The lown win' maun be his breath--sae quaiet!--He 's no
+hurryin' himsel' the nicht.--there's never naebody rins efter
+him.--Eh, Phemy! I jist thoucht he was gauin' to speyk!"
+
+This last exclamation he uttered in a whisper, as the louder gush
+of a larger tide pulse died away on the shore.
+
+"Luik, Phemy, luik!" he resumed. "Luik oot yonner! Dinna ye see
+something 'at micht grow to something?"
+
+His eyes were fixed on a faint spot of steely blue, out on the sea,
+not far from the horizon. It was hard to account for, with such a
+sky overheard, wherein was no lighter part to be seen that might
+be reflected in the water below; but neither of the beholders was
+troubled about its cause: there it glimmered on in the dimness of
+the wide night--a cold, faint splash of blue grey.
+
+"I dinna think muckle o' that, sir," said Phemy.
+
+"It micht be the mark o' the sole o' his fut, though," returned
+the laird. "He micht hae fist setten 't doon, an' the watter hae
+lowed (flamed) up aboot it, an' the low no be willin' to gang oot!
+Luik sharp, Phemy; there may come anither at the neist stride--
+anither fut mark. Luik ye that gait an' I'll luik this.--What for
+willna he come oot? The lift maun be fu' o' 'im, an'  hungert
+for a sicht o' 'im. Gien ye see ony thing, Phemy, cry oot."
+
+"What will I cry?" asked Phemy.
+
+"Cry 'Father o' lichts!'" answered the laird.
+
+"Will he hear to that--div ye think, sir?"
+
+"Wha kens! He micht jist turn his heid; an' ae luik wad sair me
+for a hunner year."
+
+"I s' cry, gien I see onything," said Phemy.
+
+As they sat watching, by degrees the laird's thought swerved a
+little. His gaze had fixed on the northern horizon, where, as if
+on the outer threshold of some mighty door, long low clouds, with
+varied suggestion of recumbent animal forms, had stretched themselves,
+like creatures of the chase, watching for their lord to issue.
+
+"Maybe he's no oot o' the hoose yet," he said. "Surely it canna be
+but he comes oot ilka nicht! He wad never hae made sic a sicht o'
+bonny things to lat them lie wi'oot onybody to gaither them! An'
+there's nae ill fowk the furth at this time o' nicht, ta mak an
+oogly din, or disturb him wi' the sicht o' them. He maun come oot
+i' the quaiet o' the nicht, or else what's 't a' for?--Ay! he
+keeps the nicht till himsel', an' lea's the day to hiz (us). That
+'ll be what the deep sleep fa's upo' men for, doobtless--to haud
+them oot o' his gait! Eh! I wuss he wad come oot whan I was by! I
+micht get a glimp o' 'm.--Maybe he wad tak the hump aff o' me,
+an' set things in order i' my heid, an' mak me like ither fowk.
+Eh me! that wad be gran'! Naebody wad daur to touch me syne. Eh!
+Michty! come oot! Father o' lichts! Father o' lichts!"
+
+He went on repeating the words till, growing softer and softer,
+his voice died away in silence, and still as his seat of stone he
+sat, a new Job, on the verge of the world waters, like the old Job
+on his dunghill when he cried out,--
+
+"Lo, he goeth by me, and I see him not; he passeth on also, but I
+perceive him not--Call thou, and I will answer; or let me speak
+and answer thou me.--Oh that I knew where I might find him! that
+I might come even to his seat!--Behold I go forward, but he is not
+there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him; on the left hand,
+where he doth work, but I cannot behold him; he hideth himself on
+the right hand, that I cannot see him."
+
+At length he rose and wandered away from the shore, his head sunk
+upon his chest. Phemy rose also and followed him in silence. The
+child had little of the poetic element in her nature, but she had
+much of that from which everything else has to be developed--
+heart. When they reached the top of the brae, she joined him, and
+said, putting her hand in his, but not looking at, or even turning
+towards him, "Maybe he 'll come oot upo' ye afore ye ken some day
+--whan ye're no luikin' for him."
+
+The laird stopped, gazed at her for a moment, shook his head, and
+walked on.
+
+Grassy steeps everywhere met the stones and sands of the shore,
+and the grass and the sand melted, as it were, and vanished each
+in the other. Just where they met in the next hollow, stood a small
+building of stone with a tiled roof. It was now strangely visible
+through the darkness, for from every crevice a fire illumined smoke
+was pouring. But the companions were not alarmed or even surprised.
+They bent their way towards it without hastening a step, and coming
+to a fence that enclosed a space around it, opened a little gate,
+and passed through. A sleepy watchman challenged them. "It's me,"
+said the laird.
+
+"A fine nicht, laird," returned the voice, and said no more.
+
+The building was divided into several compartments, each with
+a separate entrance. On the ground in each burned four or five
+little wood fires, and the place was filled with smoke and glow.
+The smoke escaped partly by openings above the doors, but mostly
+by the crannies of the tiled roof. Ere it reached these, however,
+it had to pass through a great multitude of pendent herrings. Hung
+up by the gills, layer above layer, nearly to the roof, their last
+tails came down as low as the laird's head. From beneath nothing
+was to be seen but a firmament of herring tails. These fish were
+the last of the season, and were thus undergoing the process of
+kippering. It was a new venture in the place, and its success as
+yet a question.
+
+The laird went into one of the compartments, and searching about
+a little amongst the multitude within his reach, took down a plump
+one, then cleared away the blazing wood from the top of one of the
+fires, and laid his choice upon the glowing embers beneath.
+
+"What are ye duin' there, laird?" cried Phemy from without, whose
+nostrils the resulting odour had quickly reached. "The fish is no
+yours."
+
+"Ye dinna think I wad tak it wantin' leave, Phemy!" returned the
+laird. "Mony a supper hae I made this w'y, an' mony anither I houp
+to mak. It'll no be this sizzon though, for this lot's the last o'
+them. They're fine aitin', but  some feart they winna keep."
+
+"Wha gae ye leave, sir?" persisted Phemy showing herself the
+indivertible guardian of his morals as well as of his freedom.
+
+"Ow, Mr Runcie himsel', of coorse!" answered the laird. "Wull I
+pit ane on to you?"
+
+"Did ye speir leave for me tu?" asked the righteous maiden.
+
+"Ow, na; but I'll tell him the neist time I see him."
+
+" nae for ony," said Phemy.
+
+The fish wanted little cooking. The laird turned it, and after
+another half minute of the fire, took it up by the tail, sat down
+on a stone beside the door, spread a piece of paper on his knees,
+laid the fish upon it, pulled a lump of bread from his pocket, and
+proceeded to make his supper. Ere he began, however, he gazed all
+around with a look which Phemy interpreted as a renewed search for
+the Father of lights, whom he would fain thank for his gifts. When
+he had finished, he threw the remnants into one of the fires, then
+went down to the sea, and there washed his face and hands in a rock
+pool, after which they set off again, straying yet further along
+the coast.
+
+One of the peculiarities in the friendship of the strange couple
+was that, although so closely attached, they should maintain such
+a large amount of mutual independence. They never quarrelled, but
+would flatly disagree, with never an attempt at compromise; the
+whole space between midnight and morning would sometimes glide by
+without a word spoken between them; and the one or the other would
+often be lingering far behind. As, however, the ultimate goal of
+the night's wandering was always understood between them, there
+was little danger of their losing each other.
+
+On the present occasion, the laird, still full of his quest, was
+the one who lingered. Every few minutes he would stop and stare, now
+all around the horizon, now up to the zenith, now over the wastes
+of sky--for, any moment, from any spot in heaven, earth, or sea,
+the Father of lights might show foot, or hand, or face. He had
+at length seated himself on a lichen covered stone with his head
+buried in his hands, as if, wearied with vain search for him outside
+he would now look within and see if God might not be there, when
+suddenly a sharp exclamation from Phemy reached him. He listened.
+
+"Rin! rin! rin!" she cried--the last word prolonged into a scream.
+
+While it yet rang in his ears, the laird was halfway down the steep.
+In the open country he had not a chance; but, knowing every cranny
+in the rocks large enough to hide him, with anything like a start
+near enough to the shore for his short lived speed, he was all but
+certain to evade his pursuers, especially in such a dark night as
+this.
+
+He was not in the least anxious about Phemy, never imagining she
+might be less sacred in other eyes than in his, and knowing neither
+that her last cry of loving solitude had gathered intensity from
+a cruel grasp, nor that while he fled in safety, she remained a
+captive.
+
+Trembling and panting like a hare just escaped from the hounds,
+he squeezed himself into a cleft, where he sat half covered with
+water until the morning began to break. Then he drew himself out and
+crept along the shore, from point to point, with keen circumspection,
+until he was right under the village and within hearing of its
+inhabitants, when he ascended hurriedly, and ran home. But having
+reached his burrow, pulled down his rope ladder, and ascended, he
+found, with trebled dismay, that his loft had been invaded during
+the night. Several of the hooked cords had been cut away, on one
+or two were shreds of clothing, and on the window sill was a drop
+of blood.
+
+He threw himself on the mound for a moment, then started to his
+feet, caught up his plaid, tumbled from the loft, and fled from
+Scaurnose as if a visible pestilence had been behind him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII: MALCOLM AND MRS STEWART
+
+
+When her parents discovered that Phemy was not in her garret,
+it occasioned them no anxiety. When they had also discovered that
+neither was the laird in his loft, and were naturally seized with
+the dread that some evil had befallen him, his hitherto invariable
+habit having been to house himself with the first gleam of returning
+day, they supposed that Phemy, finding he had not returned, had
+set out to look for him. As the day wore on, however, without her
+appearing, they began to be a little uneasy about her as well. Still
+the two might be together, and the explanation of their absence a
+very simple and satisfactory one; for a time therefore they refused
+to admit importunate disquiet. But before night, anxiety, like
+the slow but persistent waters of a flood, had insinuated itself
+through their whole being--nor theirs alone, but had so mastered
+and possessed the whole village that at length all employment was
+deserted, and every person capable joined in a search along the
+coast, fearing to find their bodies at the foot of some cliff. The
+report spread to the neighbouring villages. In Portlossie Duncan
+went round with his pipes, arousing attention by a brief blast, and
+then crying the loss at every corner. As soon as Malcolm heard of
+it, he hurried to find Joseph, but the only explanation of their
+absence he was prepared to suggest was one that had already occurred
+to almost everybody--that the laird, namely, had been captured
+by the emissaries of his mother, and that, to provide against
+a rescue, they had carried off his companion with him--on which
+supposition, there was every probability that, within a few days
+at farthest, Phemy would be restored unhurt.
+
+"There can be little doobt they hae gotten a grip o' 'm at last,
+puir fallow!" said Joseph. "But whatever 's come till him, we
+canna sit doon an' ait oor mait ohn kent hoo Phemy 's farin, puir
+wee lamb! Ye maun jist haud awa' ower to Kirkbyres, Ma'colm, an'
+get word o' yer mither, an' see gien onything can be made oot o'
+her."
+
+The proposal fell on Malcolm like a great billow.
+
+"Blue Peter," he said, looking him in the face, "I took it as a
+mark o' yer freen'ship 'at ye never spak the word to me. What richt
+has ony man to ca' that wuman my mither? I hae never allooed it!"
+
+"I'm thinkin'," returned Joseph, the more easily nettled that
+his horizon also was full of trouble, "your word upo' the maitter
+winna gang sae far 's John o' Groat's. Ye 'll no be suppeent for
+your witness upo' the pint."
+
+"I wad as sune gang a mile intill the mou' o' hell, as gang to
+Kirkbyres!" said Malcolm.
+
+"I hae my answer," said Peter, and turned away.
+
+"But I s' gang," Malcolm went on. "The thing 'at maun be can be.
+--Only I tell ye this, Peter," he added, "gien ever ye say sic a
+word 's yon i' my hearin' again, that is, afore the wuman has priven
+hersel' what she says, I s' gang by ye ever efter ohn spoken, for
+I'll ken ''at ye want nae mair o' me."
+
+Joseph, who had been standing with his back to his friend, turned
+and held out his hand. Malcolm took it.
+
+"Ae question afore I gang, Peter," he said. "What for didna ye tell
+me what fowk was sayin' aboot me--anent Lizzy Findlay?"
+
+"'Cause I didna believe a word o' 't, an' I wasna gaein' to add to
+yer troubles."
+
+"Lizzy never mootit sic a thing?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"I was sure o' that!--Noo I 'll awa' to Kirkbyres--God help
+me! I wad raither face Sawtan an' his muckle tyke.--But dinna ye
+expec' ony news. Gien yon ane kens, she's a' the surer no to tell.
+Only ye sanna say I didna du my best for ye."
+
+It was the hardest trial of the will Malcolm had yet had to
+encounter. Trials of submission he had had, and tolerably severe
+ones: but to go and do what the whole feeling recoils from is to be
+weighed only against abstinence from what the whole feeling urges
+towards. He walked determinedly home. Stoat saddled a horse for him
+while he changed his dress, and once more he set out for Kirkbyres.
+
+Had Malcolm been at the time capable of attempting an analysis
+of his feeling towards Mrs Stewart, he would have found it very
+difficult to effect. Satisfied as he was of the untruthful--even
+cruel nature of the woman who claimed him, and conscious of a strong
+repugnance to any nearer approach between them, he was yet aware
+of a certain indescribable fascination in her. This, however, only
+caused him to recoil from her the more--partly from dread lest it
+might spring from the relation asserted, and partly that, whatever
+might be its root, it wrought upon him in a manner he scarcely
+disliked the less that it certainly had nothing to do with the
+filial. But his feelings were too many and too active to admit of
+the analysis of any one of them, and ere he reached the house his
+mood had grown fierce.
+
+He was shown into a room where the fire had not been many minutes
+lighted. It had long narrow windows, over which the ivy had grown
+so thick, that he was in it some moments ere he saw through the
+dusk that it was a library--not half the size of that at Lossie
+House, but far more ancient, and, although evidently neglected,
+more study-like.
+
+A few minutes passed, then the door softly opened, and Mrs Stewart
+glided swiftly across the floor with outstretched arms.
+
+"At last!" she said, and would have clasped him to her bosom.
+
+But Malcolm stepped back.
+
+"Na, na, mem!" he said; "it taks twa to that!"
+
+"Malcolm!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion--of
+some kind.
+
+"Ye may ca' me your son, mem, but I ken nae gr'un' yet for ca'in'
+you my--"
+
+He could not say the word.
+
+"That is very true, Malcolm," she returned gently; "but this
+interview is not of my seeking. I wish to precipitate nothing. So
+long as there is a single link, or half a link even, missing from
+the chain of which one end hangs at my heart--"
+
+She paused, with her hand on her bosom, apparently to suppress
+rising emotion. Had she had the sentence ready for use?
+
+"I will not subject myself," she went on, "to such treatment as
+it seems I must look for from you. It is hard to lose a son but it
+is harder yet to find him again after he has utterly ceased to be
+one."
+
+Here she put her handkerchief to her eyes.
+
+"Till the matter is settled, however," she resumed, "let us be
+friends--or at least not enemies.--What did you come for now?
+Not to insult me surely. Is there anything I can do for you?"
+
+Malcolm felt the dignity of her behaviour, but not the less, after
+his own straightforward manner, answered her question to the point.
+
+"I cam aboot naething concernin' mysel', mem, I cam to see whether
+ye kent onything aboot Phemy Mair."
+
+"Is it a wo?--I don't even know who she is.--You don't mean
+the young woman that--?--Why do you come to me about her? Who
+is she?"
+
+Malcolm hesitated a moment: if she really did not know what he
+meant, was there any risk in telling her? But he saw none.
+
+"Wha is she, mem!" he returned. "I whiles think she maun be the
+laird's guid angel, though in shape she's but a wee bit lassie.
+She maks up for a heap to the laird.--Him an' her, mem, they 've
+disappeart thegither, naebody kens whaur."
+
+Mrs Stewart laughed a low unpleasant laugh, but made no other reply.
+Malcolm went on.
+
+"An' it 's no to be wonnert at gien fowk wull hae 't 'at ye maun
+ken something aboot it, mem."
+
+"I know nothing whatever," she returned emphatically. "Believe
+me or not, as you please," she added, with heightened colour. "If
+I did know anything," she went on, with apparent truthfulness, "I
+don't know that I should feel bound to tell it. As it is, however,
+I can only say I know nothing of either of them. That I do say most
+solemnly."
+
+Malcolm turned,--satisfied at least that he could learn no more.
+
+"You are not going to leave me so!" the lady said, and her face
+grew "sad as sad could be."
+
+"There's naething mair atween 's, mem," answered Malcolm, without
+turning even his face.
+
+"You will be sorry for treating me so some day."
+
+"Weel than, mem, I will be; but that day's no the day (today)."
+
+"Think what you could do for your poor witless brother, if--"
+
+"Mem," interrupted Malcolm, turning right round and drawing himself
+up in anger, "priv' 'at  your son, an' that meenute I speir at
+you wha was my father."
+
+Mrs Stewart changed colour--neither with the blush of innocence
+nor with the pallor of guilt, but with the gray of mingled rage and
+hatred. She took a step forward with the quick movement of a snake
+about to strike, but stopped midway, and stood looking at him with
+glittering eyes, teeth clenched, and lips half open.
+
+Malcolm returned her gaze for a moment or two.
+
+"Ye never was the mither, whaever was the father o' me!" he said,
+and walked out of the room.
+
+He had scarcely reached the door, when he heard a heavy fall, and
+looking round saw the lady lying motionless on the floor. Thoroughly
+on his guard, however, and fearful both of her hatred and her
+blandishments, he only made the more haste down stairs, where he
+found a maid, and sent her to attend to her mistress. In a minute
+he was mounted and trotting fast home, considerably happier than
+before, inasmuch as he was now almost beyond doubt convinced that
+Mrs Stewart was not his mother.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX: AN HONEST PLOT
+
+
+Ever since the visit of condolence with which the narrative of
+these events opened, there had been a coolness between Mrs Mellis
+and Miss Horn. Mr Mellis's shop was directly opposite Miss Horn's
+house, and his wife's parlour was over the shop, looking into
+the street; hence the two neighbours could not but see each other
+pretty often; beyond a stiff nod, however, no sign of smouldering
+friendship had as yet broken out. Miss Horn was consequently a good
+deal surprised when, having gone into the shop to buy some trifle,
+Mr Mellis informed her, in all but a whisper, that his wife was
+very anxious to see her alone for a moment, and begged her to have
+the goodness to step up to the parlour. His customer gave a small
+snort, betraying her first impulse to resentment, but her nobler
+nature, which was never far from the surface, constrained her
+compliance.
+
+Mrs Mellis rose hurriedly when the plumb line figure of her
+neighbour appeared, ushered in by her husband, and received her with
+a somewhat embarrassed empressement, arising from the consciousness
+of goodwill disturbed by the fear of imputed meddlesomeness. She
+knew the inward justice of Miss Horn, however, and relied upon that,
+even while she encouraged herself by waking up the ever present
+conviction of her own superiority in the petite morale of social
+intercourse. Her general tendency indeed was to look down upon Miss
+Horn: is it not usually the less that looks down on the greater?
+I had almost said it must be, for that the less only can look down
+but that would not hold absolutely in the kingdoms of this world,
+while in the kingdom of heaven it is all looking up.
+
+"Sit ye doon, Miss Horn," she said; "it 's a lang time sin we had
+a news thegither."
+
+Miss Horn seated herself with a begrudged acquiescence.
+
+Had Mrs Mellis been more of a tactician, she would have dug a few
+approaches ere she opened fire upon the fortress of her companion's
+fair hearing: but instead of that, she at once discharged the
+imprudent question--"Was ye at hame last nicht, mem, atween the
+hoors o' aucht an' nine?"--a shot which instantly awoke in reply
+the whole battery of Miss Horn's indignation.
+
+"Wha am I, to be speirt sic a queston! Wha but yersel' wad hae
+daurt it, Mistress Mellis?"
+
+"Huly (softly), huly, Miss Horn!" expostulated her questioner. "I
+hae nae wuss to pry intill ony secrets o' yours, or--"
+
+"Secrets!" shouted Miss Horn!
+
+But her consciousness of good intent, and all but assurance of
+final victory, upheld Mrs Mellis.
+
+"--or Jean's aither," she went on, apparently regardless; "but I
+wad fain be sure ye kent a' aboot yer ain hoose 'at a body micht
+chance to see frae the croon o' the caus'ay (middle of the street)."
+
+"The parlour blind 's gane up crookit sin' ever that thoomb fingert
+cratur, Watty Witherspail, made a new roller till 't. Gien 't be
+that ye mean, Mistress Mellis,--"
+
+"Hoots!" returned the other. "--Hoo far can ye lippen to that Jean
+o' yours, mem?"
+
+"Nae farer nor the len'th o' my nose, an' the breid o' my twa een,"
+was the scornful answer.
+
+Although, however, she thus manifested her resentment of Mrs Mellis's
+catechetical attempts in introducing her subject, Miss Horn had no
+desire to prevent the free outcome of her approaching communication.
+
+"In that case, I may speyk oot," said Mrs Mellis.
+
+"Use yer freedom."
+
+"Weel, I will. Ye was hardly oot o' the hoose last nicht, afore
+--"
+
+"Ye saw me gang oot?"
+
+"Ay did I."
+
+"What gart ye speir than? What for sud a body come screwin' up a
+straucht stair--noo the face an' noo the back o' her?"
+
+"Weel, I nott (needed) na hae speirt. But that's naething to the
+p'int.--Ye hadna been gane, as I was saying', ower a five meenutes,
+whan in cam a licht intill the bedroom neist the parlour, an' Jean
+appeart wi' a can'le in her han'. There was nae licht i' this room
+but the licht o' the fire, an' no muckle o' that, for 'twas maistly
+peat, sae I saw her weel eneuch-ohn been seen mysel'. She cam
+straucht to the window, and drew doon the blind, but lost hersel'
+a bit or she wad never hae set doon her can'le whaur it cuist a
+shaidow o' hersel' an' her doin's upo' the blind."
+
+"An' what was 't she was efter, the jaud?" cried Miss Horn, without
+any attempt to conceal her growing interest.
+
+"She made naething o' 't, whatever it was; for doon the street cam
+the schuilmaister, an' chappit at the door, an gaed in an' waitit
+till ye came hame."
+
+"Weel!" said Miss Horn.
+
+But Mrs Mellis held her peace.
+
+"Weel!!?" repeated Miss Horn.
+
+"Weel," returned Mrs Mellis, with a curious mixture of deference
+and conscious sagacity in her tone, "a' 'at I tak upo' me to say
+is--Think ye twice afore ye lippen to that Jean o' yours."
+
+"I lippen naething till her! I wad as sune lippen to the dottle o'
+a pipe amo' dry strae. What saw ye, Mistress Mellis?"
+
+"Ye needna speyk like that," returned Mrs Mellis, for Miss Horn's
+tone was threatening: " no Jean."
+
+"What saw ye?" repeated Miss Horn, more gently, but not less eagerly.
+
+"Whause is that kist o' mahogany drawers i' that bedroom, gien I
+may preshume ta spier?"
+
+"Whause but mine?"
+
+"They're no Jean's?"
+
+"Jean's!"
+
+"Ye micht hae latten her keep her bit duds i' them, for onything
+I kent!"
+
+"Jean's duds i' my Grizel's drawers! A lik'ly thing!"
+
+"Hm! They war puir Miss Cam'ell's, war they?"
+
+"They war Grizell Cam'ell's drawers as lang she had use for ony;
+but what for ye sud say puir till her, I dinna ken, 'cep' it be
+'at she's gane whaur they haena muckle 'at needs layin' in drawers.
+That's neither here nor there.--Div ye tell me 'at Jean was
+intromittin' wi thae drawers? They're a' lockit, ilk ane o' them
+--an' they're guid locks."
+
+"No ower guid to hae keyes to them--are they?"
+
+"The keyes are i' my pooch," said Miss Horn, clapping her hand to
+the skirt of her dress. "They're aye i' my pooch, though I haena
+had the feelin's to mak use o' them sin' she left me."
+
+"Are ye sure they war there last nicht, mem?"
+
+Miss Horn seemed struck.
+
+"I had on my black silk last nicht," she answered vaguely, and was
+here silent, pondering doubtfully.
+
+"Weel, mem, jist ye put on yer black silk again the morn's nicht,
+an' come ower aboot aucht o'clock; an' ye'll be able to jeedge by
+her ongang whan ye're no i' the hoose, gien there be onything amiss
+wi' Jean. There canna be muckle ill dune yet--that's a comfort!"
+
+"What ill, by (beyond) meddlin' wi' what doesna concern her, cud
+the wuman du?" said Miss Horn, with attempted confidence.
+
+"That ye sud ken best yersel', mem. But Jean's an awfu' gossip,
+an' a lady like yer cousin micht hae left dockiments ahint her 'at
+she wadna jist like to hear procleemt frae the hoose tap. No 'at
+she'll ever hear onything mair, puir thing!"
+
+"What mean ye?" cried Miss Horn, half frightened, half angry.
+
+"Jist what I say--neither mair nor less," returned Mrs Mellis.
+"Miss Cam'ell may weel hae left letters for enstance, an' hoo wad
+they fare in Jean's han's?"
+
+"Whan I never had the hert to open her drawers!" exclaimed Miss
+Horn, enraged at the very notion of the crime. "I hae nae feelin's,
+thank God for the furnishin' o' me!"
+
+"I doobt Jean has her full share o' a' feelin's belangin' to fallen
+human natur'," said Mrs Mellis, with a slow horizontal oscillation
+of the head. "But ye jist come an' see wi' yer ain een, an' syne
+jeedge for yersel': it 's nae business o' mine."
+
+"I'll come the nicht, Mrs Mellis. Only lat it be atween 's twa."
+
+"I can haud my tongue, mem,--that is, frae a' but ane. Sae lang
+'s merried fowk sleeps in ae bed, it 's ill to haud onything till
+a body's sel'."
+
+"Mr Mellis is a douce man, an' I carena what he kens," answered
+Miss Horn.
+
+She descended to the shop, and having bought bulk enough to account
+to Jean for her lengthened stay, for she had beyond a doubt been
+watching the door of the shop, she crossed the street, went up to
+her parlour, and rang the bell. The same moment Jean's head was
+popped in at the door: she had her reasons for always answering
+the bell like a bullet.
+
+"Mem?" said Jean.
+
+"Jean,  gaein' oot the nicht. The minister oucht to be spoken
+till aboot the schuilmaister, honest man. Tak the lantren wi' ye
+to the manse aboot ten o'clock. That 'll be time eneuch."
+
+"Verra weel, mem. But  thinkin' there's a mune the nicht."
+
+"Naething but the doup o' ane, Jean. It's no to ca' a mune. It's
+a mercy we hae lantrens, an' sic a sicht o' cairds (gipsies) aboot."
+
+"Ay, lantren lats them see whaur ye are, an' haud oot o' yer gait,"
+said Jean, who happened not to relish going out that night.
+
+"Troth, wuman, ye're richt there!" returned her mistress, with
+cheerful assent. "The mair they see o' ye, the less they 'll meddle
+wi' ye--caird or cadger. Haud ye the licht upo' yer ain face,
+lass, an' there's feow 'll hae the hert to luik again."
+
+"Haith, mem, there's twa sic like o' 's!" returned Jean bitterly,
+and bounced from the room.
+
+"That's true tu," said her mistress--adding after the door was
+shut, "It's a peety we cudna haud on thegither."
+
+" gaein' noo, Jean," she called into the kitchen as she crossed
+the threshold at eight o'clock.
+
+She turned towards the head of the street, in the direction of the
+manse; but, out of the range of Jean's vision, made a circuit, and
+entered Mr Mellis's house by the garden at the back.
+
+In the parlour she found a supper prepared to celebrate the renewal
+of old goodwill. The clear crystal on the table; the new loaf so
+brown without and so white within; the rich, clear complexioned
+butter, undebased with a particle of salt; the self satisfied hum
+of the kettle in attendance for the guidman's toddy; the bright
+fire, the golden glow of the brass fender in its red light, and the
+dish of boiled potatoes set down before it, under a snowy cloth;
+the pink eggs, the yellow haddock, and the crimson strawberry jam;
+all combined their influences--each with its private pleasure
+wondrously heightened by the zest of a secret watch and the hope
+of discomfitted mischief--to draw into a friendship what had
+hitherto been but a somewhat insecure neighbourship. From below
+came the sound of the shutters which Mr Mellis was putting up a
+few minutes earlier than usual; and when presently they sat down
+to the table, and, after prologue judged suitable, proceeded to
+enjoy the good things before them, an outside observer would have
+thought they had a pleasant evening, if not Time himself, by the
+forelock.
+
+But Miss Horn was uneasy. The thought of what Jean might have
+already discovered had haunted her all day long; for her reluctance
+to open her cousin's drawers had arisen mainly from the dread of
+finding justified a certain painful suspicion which had haunted
+the whole of her intercourse with Grizell Campbell--namely, that
+the worm of a secret had been lying at the root of her life, the
+cause of all her illness, and of her death at last. She had fought
+with, out argued, and banished the suspicion a thousand times while
+she was with her, but evermore it had returned; and now since her
+death, when again and again on the point of turning over her things,
+she had been always deterred by the fear, not so much of finding
+what would pain herself as of discovering what Grizell would not
+wish her to know. Never was there a greater contrast between form
+and reality, between person and being, between manner and nature,
+than existed in Margaret Horn: the shell was rough, the kernel
+absolute delicacy. Not for a moment had her suspicion altered her
+behaviour to the gentle suffering creature towards whom she had
+adopted the relation of an elder and stronger sister. To herself,
+when most satisfied of the existence of a secret, she steadily
+excused her cousin's withholdment of confidence, on the ground of
+her own lack of feelings: how could she unbosom herself to such as
+she! And now the thought of eyes like Jean's exploring Grizell's
+forsaken treasures, made her so indignant and restless that she
+could hardly even pretend to enjoy her friend's hospitality.
+
+Mrs Mellis had so arranged the table and their places, that she and
+her guest had only to lift their eyes to see the window of their
+watch, while she punished her husband for the virile claim to greater
+freedom from curiosity by seating him with his back to it, which
+made him every now and then cast a fidgety look over his shoulder
+--not greatly to the detriment of his supper, however. Their plan
+was, to extinguish their own the moment Jean's light should appear,
+and so watch without the risk of counter discovery.
+
+"There she comes!" cried Mrs Mellis; and her husband and Miss Horn
+made such haste to blow out the candle, that they knocked their
+heads together, blew in each other's face, and the first time missed
+it. Jean approached the window with hers in her hand, and pulled
+down the blind. But, alas, beyond the form of a close bent elbow
+moving now and then across a corner of the white field, no shadow
+appeared upon it!
+
+Miss Horn rose.
+
+"Sit doon, mem, sit doon; ye hae naething to gang upo' yet,"
+exclaimed Mr Mellis, who, being a bailie, was an authority.
+
+"I can sit nae langer, Mr Mellis," returned Miss Horn. "I hae
+eneuch to gang upo' as lang 's I hae my ain flure aneth my feet:
+the wuman has nae business there. I'll jist slip across an' gang
+in, as quaiet as a sowl intill a boady; but I s' warran' I s' mak
+a din afore I come oot again!"
+
+With a grim diagonal nod she left the room.
+
+Although it was now quite dark, she yet deemed it prudent to go by
+the garden gate into the back lane, and so cross the street lower
+down. Opening her own door noiselessly, thanks to Jean, who kept
+the lock well oiled for reasons of Mrs Catanach's, she closed it
+as silently, and, long boned as she was, crept up the stair like
+a cat. The light was shining from the room; the door was ajar. She
+listened at it for a moment, and could distinguish nothing; then
+fancying she heard the rustle of paper, could bear it no longer,
+pushed the door open, and entered. There stood Jean, staring at
+her with fear blanched face, a deep top drawer open before her,
+and her hands full of things she was in the act of replacing. Her
+terror culminated, and its spell broke in a shriek, when her mistress
+sprang upon her like a tigress.
+
+The watchers in the opposite house heard no cry, and only saw
+a heave of two intermingled black shadows across the blind, after
+which they neither heard nor saw anything more. The light went on
+burning until its final struggle with the darkness began, when it
+died with many a flickering throb. Unable at last to endure the
+suspense, now growing to fear, any longer, they stole across the
+street, opened the door, and went in. Over the kitchen fire, like
+an evil spirit of the squabby order, crouched Mrs Catanach, waiting
+for Jean; no one else was to be found.
+
+About ten o'clock the same evening, as Mr Graham sat by his peat
+fire, some one lifted the latch of the outer door and knocked at
+the inner. His invitation to enter was answered by the appearance
+of Miss Horn, gaunt and grim as usual, but with more than the wonted
+fire gleaming from the shadowy cavern of her bonnet. She made no
+apology for the lateness of her visit, but seated herself at the
+other side of the deal table, and laid upon it a paper parcel,
+which she proceeded to open with much deliberation and suppressed
+plenitude. Having at length untied the string with the long fingers
+of a hand which, notwithstanding its evident strength, trembled so
+as almost to defeat the attempt, she took from the parcel a packet
+of old letters sealed with spangled wax, and pushed it across the
+table to the schoolmaster, saying--"Hae, Sandy Graham! Naebody
+but yersel' has a richt to say what's to be dune wi' them."
+
+He put out his hand and took them gently, with a look of sadness
+but no surprise.
+
+"Dinna think I hae been readin' them, Sandy Graham. Na, na! I wad
+read nae honest man's letters, be they written to wha they micht."
+
+Mr Graham was silent.
+
+"Ye're a guid man, Sandy Graham," Miss Horn resumed, "gien God ever
+took the pains to mak ane. Dinna think onything atween you an' her
+wad hae brocht me at this time o' nicht to disturb ye in yer ain
+chaumer. Na, na! Whatever was atween you twa had an honest man intill
+'t, an' I wad hae taen my time to gie ye back yer dockiments. But
+there's some o' anither mark here."
+
+As she spoke, she drew from the parcel a small cardboard box,
+broken at the sides, and tied with a bit of tape. This she undid
+and, turning the box upside down, tumbled its contents out on the
+table before him.
+
+"What mak ye o' sic like as thae?" she said.
+
+"Do you want me to--?" asked the schoolmaster with trembling voice.
+
+"I jist div," she answered.
+
+They were a number of little notes--some of them but a word or
+two, and signed with initials; others longer, and signed in full.
+Mr Graham took up one of them reluctantly, and unfolded it softly.
+He had hardly looked at it when he started and exclaimed, "God have
+mercy! What can be the date of this!"
+
+There was no date to it. He held it in his hand for a minute, his
+eyes fixed on the fire, and his features almost convulsed with his
+efforts at composure; then laid it gently on the table, and said
+but without turning his eyes to Miss Horn,
+
+"I cannot read this. You must not ask me. It refers doubtless to
+the time when Miss Campbell was governess to Lady Annabel. I see
+no end to be answered by my reading one of these letters."
+
+"I daursay! Wha ever saw 'at wadna luik?" returned Miss Horn, with
+a glance keen as an eagle's into the thoughtful eyes of her friend.
+
+"Why not do by the writer of these as you have done by me? Why not
+take them to him?" suggested Mr Graham.
+
+"That wad be but thoomb fingert wark--to lat gang the en' o' yer
+hank!" exclaimed Miss Horn.
+
+"I do not understand you, ma'am."
+
+"Weel, I maun gar ye un'erstan' me. There's things whiles, Sandy
+Graham, 'at 's no easy to speyk aboot--but I hae nae feelin's,
+an' we'll a' be deid or lang, an' that's a comfort. Man 'at ye
+are, ye're the only human bein' I wad open my moo' till aboot this
+maitter, an' that's 'cause ye lo'e the memory o' my puir lassie,
+Grizell Cam'ell."
+
+"It is not her memory, it is herself I love," said the schoolmaster
+with trembling voice. "Tell me what you please: you may trust me."
+
+"Gien I needit you to tell me that, I wad trust ye as I wad the
+black dog wi' butter!--Hearken, Sandy Graham."
+
+The result of her communication and their following conference
+was, that she returned about midnight with a journey before her,
+the object of which was to place the letters in the safe keeping
+of a lawyer friend in the neighbouring county town.
+
+Long before she reached home, Mrs Catanach had left--not without
+communication with her ally, in spite of a certain precaution
+adopted by her mistress, the first thing the latter did when she
+entered being to take the key of the cellar stairs from her pocket,
+and release Jean, who issued crestfallen and miserable, and was
+sternly dismissed to bed. The next day, however, for reasons of her
+own, Miss Horn permitted her to resume her duties about the house
+without remark, as if nothing had happened serious enough to render
+further measures necessary.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LX: THE SACRAMENT
+
+
+Abandoning all her remaining effects to Jean's curiosity, if indeed
+it were no worse demon that possessed her, Miss Horn, carrying
+a large reticule, betook herself to the Lossie Arms, to await the
+arrival of the mail coach from the west, on which she was pretty
+sure of a vacant seat.
+
+It was a still, frosty, finger pinching dawn, and the rime lay
+thick wherever it could lie; but Miss Horn's red nose was carried
+in front of her in a manner that suggested nothing but defiance
+to the fiercest attacks of cold. Declining the offered shelter of
+the landlady's parlour, she planted herself on the steps of the inn,
+and there stood until the sound of the guard's horn came crackling
+through the frosty air, heralding the apparition of a flaming
+chariot, fit for the sun god himself, who was now lifting his red
+radiance above the horizon. Having none inside, the guard gallantly
+offered his one lady passenger a place in the heart of his vehicle,
+but she declined the attention--to him, on the ground of preferring
+the outside,--for herself, on the ground of uncertainty whether
+he had a right to bestow the privilege. But there was such a fire
+in her heart that no frost could chill her; such a bright bow in
+her west, that the sun now rising in the world's east was but a
+reflex of its splendour. True, the cloud against which it glowed
+was very dark with bygone wrong and suffering, but so much the more
+brilliant seemed the hope now arching the entrance of the future.
+Still, although she never felt the cold, and the journey was but
+of a few miles, it seemed long and wearisome to her active spirit,
+which would gladly have sent her tall person striding along, to
+relieve both by the discharge of the excessive generation of muscle
+working electricity.
+
+At length the coach drove into the town, and stopped at the Duff
+Arms. Miss Horn descended, straightened her long back with some
+difficulty, shook her feet, loosened her knees, and after a douceur
+to the guard more liberal than was customary, in acknowledgment of
+the kindness she had been unable to accept, marched off with the
+stride of a grenadier to find her lawyer.
+
+Their interview did not relieve her of much of the time, which now
+hung upon her like a cloak of lead, and the earliness of the hour
+would not have deterred her from at once commencing a round of
+visits to the friends she had in the place; but the gates of the
+lovely environs of Fife House stood open, and although there were
+no flowers now, and the trees were leafless, waiting in poverty and
+patience for their coming riches, they drew her with the offer of
+a plentiful loneliness and room. She accepted it, entered, and for
+two hours wandered about their woods and walks.
+
+Entering with her the well known domain, the thought meets me:
+what would be the effect on us men of such a periodical alternation
+between nothing and abundance as these woods undergo? Perhaps in
+the endless variety of worlds there may be one in which that is
+among the means whereby its dwellers are saved from self and lifted
+into life; a world in which during the one half of the year they
+walk in state, in splendour, in bounty, and during the other are
+plunged in penury and labour.
+
+Such speculations were not in Miss Horn's way; but she was better
+than the loftiest of speculations, and we will follow her. By and
+by she came out of the woods, and found herself on the banks of
+the Wan Water, a broad, fine river, here talking in wide rippled
+innocence from bank to bank, there lying silent and motionless and
+gloomy, as if all the secrets of the drowned since the creation of
+the world lay dim floating in its shadowy bosom. In great sweeps
+it sought the ocean, and the trees stood back from its borders,
+leaving a broad margin of grass between, as if the better to see
+it go. Just outside the grounds and before reaching the sea, it
+passed under a long bridge of many arches--then, trees and grass
+and flowers and all greenery left behind, rushed through a waste
+of storm heaped pebbles into the world water. Miss Horn followed
+it out of the grounds and on to the beach.
+
+Here its channel was constantly changing. Even while she stood
+gazing at its rapid rush, its bank of pebbles and sand fell almost
+from under her feet. But her thoughts were so busy that she scarcely
+observed even what she saw, and hence it was not strange that she
+should be unaware of having been followed and watched all the way.
+Now from behind a tree, now from a corner of the mausoleum, now
+from behind a rock, now over the parapet of the bridge, the mad
+laird had watched her. From a heap of shingle on the opposite side
+of the Wan Water, he was watching her now. Again and again he had
+made a sudden movement as if to run and accost her, but had always
+drawn back again and concealed himself more carefully than before.
+
+At length she turned in the direction of the town. It was a quaint
+old place--a royal burgh for five centuries, with streets irregular
+and houses of much individuality. Most of the latter were humble
+in appearance, bare and hard in form, and gray in hue; but there
+were curious corners, low archways, uncompromising gables, some with
+corbel steps--now and then an outside stair, a delicious little
+dormer window, or a gothic doorway, sometimes with a bit of carving
+over it.
+
+With the bent head of the climber, Miss Horn was walking up a
+certain street, called from its precipitousness the Strait, that
+is difficult, Path--an absolute Hill of Difficulty, when she was
+accosted by an elderly man, who stood in the doorway of one of the
+houses.
+
+"Ken ye wha 's yon watchin' ye frae the tap o' the brae, mem?" he
+said.
+
+Miss Horn looked up: there was no one there.
+
+"that's it! he's awa' again! That's the w'y he 's been duin' this
+last hoor, at least, to my knowledge. I saw him watchin' ilka mov'
+ye made, mem, a' the time ye was doon upo' the shore--an there
+he is noo, or was a meenute ago, at the heid o' the brae, glowerin'
+the een oot o' 's heid at ye, mem!"
+
+"Div ye ken him?" asked Miss Horn.
+
+"No, mem--'cep' by sicht o' ee; he hasna been lang aboot the
+toon. Some fowk sae he's dementit; but he's unco quaiet, speyks to
+nobody, an' gien onybody speyk to him, jist rims. Cud he be kennin'
+you, no? ye're a stranger here, mem."
+
+"No sic a stranger, John!" returned Miss Horn, calling the man by
+his name, for she recognized him as the beadle of the parish church.
+"What 's the body like?"
+
+"A puir, wee, hump backit cratur, wi' the face o' a gentleman."
+
+"I ken him weel," said Miss Horn. "He is a gentleman--gien ever
+God made ane. But he 's sair afflickit. Whaur does he lie at nicht
+--can ye tell me?"
+
+"I ken naething aboot him, mem, by what comes o' seein' him sic
+like 's the day, an' ance teetin (peering) in at the door o' the
+kirk. I wad hae weised him till a seat, but the moment I luikit at
+him, awa' he ran. He 's unco cheenged though, sin' the first time
+I saw him."
+
+Since he lost Phemy, fear had been slaying him. No one knew where
+he slept; but in the daytime he haunted the streets, judging them
+safer than the fields or woods. The moment any one accosted him,
+however, he fled like the wind. He had "no art to find the mind's
+construction in the face;" and not knowing whom to trust, he
+distrusted all. Humanity was good in his eyes, but there was no
+man. The vision of Miss Horn was like the dayspring from on high to
+him; with her near, the hosts of the Lord seemed to encamp around
+him; but the one word he had heard her utter about his back, had
+caused in him an invincible repugnance to appearing before her, and
+hence it was that at a distance he had haunted her steps without
+nearer approach.
+
+There was indeed a change upon him! His clothes hung about him--
+not from their own ragged condition only, but also from the state
+of skin and bone to which he was reduced, his hump showing like a
+great peg over which they had been carelessly cast. Half the round
+of his eyes stood out from his face, whose pallor betokened the ever
+recurring rush of the faintly sallying troops back to the citadel
+of the heart. He had always been ready to run, but now he looked
+as if nothing but weakness and weariness kept him from running
+always. Miss Horn had presently an opportunity of marking the sad
+alteration.
+
+For ere she reached the head of the Strait Path, she heard sounds
+as of boys at play, and coming out on the level of the High Street,
+saw a crowd, mostly of little boys, in the angle made by a garden
+wall with a house whose gable stood halfway across the pavement.
+It being Saturday, they had just left school in all the exuberance
+of spirits to which a half holiday gives occasion. In most of them
+the animal nature was, for the time at least, far wider awake than
+the human, and their proclivity towards the sport of the persecutor
+was strong. To them any living thing that looked at once odd and
+helpless was an outlaw--a creature to be tormented, or at best
+hunted beyond the visible world. A meagre cat, an overfed pet
+spaniel, a ditchless frog, a horse whose days hung over the verge
+of the knacker's yard--each was theirs in virtue of the amusement
+latent in it, which it was their business to draw out; but of all
+such property an idiot would yield the most, and a hunchback idiot,
+such as was the laird in their eyes, was absolutely invaluable--
+beyond comparison the best game in the known universe. When he left
+Portlossie, the laird knew pretty well what risks he ran, although
+he preferred even them to the dangers he hoped by his flight to
+avoid. It was he whom the crowd in question surrounded.
+
+They had begun by rough teasing, to which he had responded with
+smiles--a result which did not at all gratify them, their chief
+object being to enrage him. They had therefore proceeded to small
+torments, and were ready to go on to worse, their object being with
+the laird hard to compass. Unhappily, there were amongst them two
+or three bigger boys.
+
+The moment Miss Horn descried what they were about, she rushed into
+the midst of them, like a long bolt from a catapult, and scattering
+them right and left from their victim, turned and stood in front
+of him, regarding his persecutors with defiance in her flaming eye,
+and vengeance in her indignant nose. But there was about Miss Horn
+herself enough of the peculiar to mark her also, to the superficial
+observer, as the natural prey of boys; and the moment the first
+billow of consternation had passed and sunk, beginning to regard
+her as she stood, the vain imagination awoke in these young lords
+of misrule. They commenced their attack upon her by resuming it
+upon her protege. She spread out her skirts, far from voluminous,
+to protect him as he cowered behind them, and so long as she was
+successful in shielding him, her wrath smouldered--but powerfully.
+At length one of the bigger boys, creeping slyly up behind the front
+row of smaller ones, succeeded in poking a piece of iron rod past
+her, and drawing a cry from the laird. Out blazed the lurking
+flame. The boy had risen, and was now attempting to prosecute like
+an ape, what he had commenced like a snake. Inspired by the God of
+armies--the Lord of hosts, she rushed upon him, and struck him
+into the gutter. He fell in the very spot where he had found his
+weapon, and there he lay. The Christian Amazon turned to the laird;
+overflowing with compassion she stooped and kissed his forehead,
+then took him by the hand to lead him away. But most of the enemy
+had gathered around their fallen comrade, and seized with some
+anxiety as to his condition, Miss Horn approached the group: the
+instant she turned towards it, the laird snatched his hand from
+hers, darted away like a hunting spider, and shot down the Strait
+Path to the low street: by the time his protectress had looked
+over the heads of the group, seen that the young miscreant was
+not seriously injured, and requested him to take that for meddling
+with a helpless innocent, the object of her solicitude, whom she
+supposed standing behind her, was nowhere to be seen. Twenty voices,
+now obsequious, were lifted to acquaint her with the direction in
+which he had gone; but it was vain to attempt following him, and
+she pursued her way, somewhat sore at his want of faith in her, to
+the house of a certain relative, a dressmaker, whom she visited as
+often as she went to Duff Harbour.
+
+Now Miss Forsyth was one of a small sect of worshippers which had,
+not many years before, built a chapel in the town--a quiet, sober,
+devout company, differing from their neighbours in nothing deeply
+touching the welfare of humanity. Their chief fault was, that,
+attributing to comparative trifles a hugely disproportionate value,
+they would tear the garment in pieces rather than yield their notion
+of the right way of wrapping it together.
+
+It so happened that, the next morning, a minister famous in
+the community was to preach to them, on which ground Miss Forsyth
+persuaded her relative to stop over the Sunday, and go with her
+to their chapel. Bethinking herself next that her minister had no
+sermon to prepare, she took Miss Horn to call upon him.
+
+Mr Bigg was one of those men whose faculty is always underestimated
+by their acquaintances and overestimated by their friends; to
+overvalue him was impossible. He was not merely of the salt of the
+earth, but of the leaven of the kingdom, contributing more to the
+true life of the world than many a thousand far more widely known
+and honoured. Such as this man are the chief springs of thought,
+feeling, inquiry, action, in their neighbourhood; they radiate help
+and breathe comfort; they reprove, they counsel, they sympathize;
+in a word, they are doorkeepers of the house of God. Constantly
+upon its threshold, and every moment pushing the door to peep in,
+they let out radiance enough to keep the hearts of men believing
+in the light. They make an atmosphere about them in which spiritual
+things can thrive, and out of their school often come men who do
+greater things, better they cannot do, than they.
+
+Although a separatist as to externals, he was in heart a most
+catholic man--would have found himself far too catholic for the
+community over which he presided, had its members been capable
+of understanding him. Indeed, he had with many, although such was
+the force of his character that no one dared a word to that effect
+in his hearing, the reputation of being lax in his ideas of what
+constituted a saving faith; and most of the sect being very narrow
+minded, if not small hearted, in their limitations of the company
+fitly partaking of the last supper of our Lord--requiring proof
+of intellectual accord with themselves as to the how and why of
+many things, especially in regard of what they called the plan of
+salvation, he was generally judged to be misled by the deceitful
+kindliness of the depraved human heart in requiring as the ground
+of communion only such an uplook to Jesus as, when on earth, Jesus
+himself had responded to with healing. He was larger hearted, and
+therefore larger minded, than his people.
+
+In the course of their conversation, Miss Forsyth recounted, with
+some humour, her visitor's prowess on behalf of the laird--much
+to honest Mr Bigg's delight.
+
+"What ither cud I du?" said Miss Horn apologetically. "But I doobt
+I strack ower sair. Maybe ye wadna objec', sir, to gang and speir
+efter the laddie, an' gie him some guid advice?"
+
+"I'll do that," returned Mr Bigg.--"Are we to have the pleasure
+of your company in our conventicle tomorrow?" he added, after a
+little pause. "Dr Blare is going to preach."
+
+"Will ye hae me, Mr Bigg?"
+
+"Most willingly, ma'am; and we'll be still better pleased if you
+'ll sit down with us to the Lord's table afterwards."
+
+"I gang to the perris kirk, ye ken," said Miss Horn, supposing the
+good man unaware of the fact.
+
+"Oh! I know that, ma'am. But don't you think, as we shall, I
+trust, sit down together to his heavenly supper it would be a good
+preparation to sit down together, once at least, to his earthly
+supper first?"
+
+"I didna ken 'at ye wad hae ony but yer ain fowk! I hae aften thoucht
+mysel', it was jist the ae thing ony Christian sud be ready to du
+wi' ony ither. Is 't a new thing wi' ye to haud open hoose this
+gait, sir,--gien I may tak the leeberty to speir?"
+
+"We don't exactly keep open house. We wouldn't like to have any
+one with us who would count it poor fare. But still less would we
+like to exclude one of the Lord's friends. If that is a new thing,
+it ought to be an old one.--You believe in Jesus Christ--don't
+you, ma'am?"
+
+"I dinna ken whether I believe in him as ye wad ca' believin' or
+no--there's sic a heap o' things broucht to the fore nooadays
+'at I canna richtly say I un'erstan'. But as he dee'd for me, I
+wad dee for him. Raither nor say I didna ken him, I wad hing aside
+him. Peter an' a', I canna say less."
+
+Mr Bigg's eyes began to smart, and he turned away his head.
+
+"Gien that 'll du wi' ye," Miss Horn went on, "an' ye mean nae
+desertion o' the kirk o' my father an' his fathers afore him, I
+wad willin'ly partak wi' ye."
+
+"You'll be welcome, Miss Horn--as welcome, as any of my own
+flock."
+
+"Weel, noo, that I ca' Christian," said Miss Horn, rising. "An'
+'deed I cud wuss," she added, "'at in oor ain kirk we had mair
+opportunity, for ance i' the twalmonth 's no verra aften to tak up
+the thouchts 'at belang to the holy ordnance."
+
+The next day, after a powerful sermon from a man who, although
+in high esteem, was not for moral worth or heavenly insight to
+be compared with him whose place he took, they proceeded to the
+celebration of the Lord's supper, after the fashion of that portion
+of the church universal.
+
+The communicants sat in several long pews facing the communion
+table, which was at the foot of the pulpit. After the reading of St
+Paul's account of the institution of the Lord's Supper, accompanied
+by prayers and addresses, the deacons carried the bread to the
+people, handing a slice to the first in each pew; each person in
+turn broke off a portion, and handed what remained to the next:
+thus they divided it among themselves.
+
+It so happened that, in moving up to the communion seats, Miss
+Forsyth and Miss Horn were the last to enter one of them, and Miss
+Horn, very needlessly insisting on her custom of having her more
+capable ear towards her friend, occupied the place next the passage.
+
+The service had hardly commenced, when she caught sight of the
+face of the mad laird peeping in at the door, which was in the side
+of the building, near where she sat. Their eyes met. With a half
+repentant, half apologetic look, he crept in, and, apparently to
+get as near his protectress as he could, sat down in the entrance
+of an empty pew, just opposite the one in which she was seated, on
+the other side of the narrow passage. His presence attracted little
+notice, for it was quite usual for individuals of the congregation
+who were not members of the church to linger on the outskirts of
+the company as spectators.
+
+By the time the piece of bread reached Miss Horn from the other
+end, it was but a fragment. She broke it in two, and, reserving
+one part for herself in place of handing the remnant to the deacon
+who stood ready to take it, stretched her arm across the passage,
+and gave it to Mr Stewart, who had been watching the proceedings
+intently. He received it from her hand, bent his head over it
+devoutly, and ate it, unconscious of the scandalized looks of the
+deacon, who knew nothing of the miserable object thus accepting
+rather than claiming a share in the common hope of men.
+
+When the cup followed, the deacon was on the alert, ready to take
+it at once from the hands of Miss Horn. But as it left her lips she
+rose, grasping it in both hands, and with the dignity of a messenger
+of the Most High, before which the deacon drew back, bore it to the
+laird, and having made him drink the little that was left, yielded
+it to the conservator of holy privileges, with the words:
+
+"Hoots, man! the puir body never had a taste o' the balm o' Gilead
+in a' 's persecutit life afore!"
+
+The liberality of Mr Bigg had not been lost upon her: freely she
+had received--freely she gave. What was good must, because it
+was good, be divided with her neighbour. It was a lawless act.
+
+As soon as the benediction was spoken, the laird slipped away, but
+as he left the seat, Miss Horn heard him murmur--"Eh, the bonny
+man! the bonny man!" He could hardly have meant the deacon. He might
+have meant Mr Bigg, who had concluded the observance with a simple
+and loving exhortation.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXI: MISS HORN AND THE PIPER
+
+
+When Miss Horn bethought herself that night, in prospect of
+returning home the next day, that she had been twice in the company
+of the laird and had not even thought of asking him about Phemy,
+she reproached herself not a little; and it was with shame that
+she set out, immediately on her arrival, to tell Malcolm that she
+had seen him. No one at the House being able to inform her where
+he was at the moment, she went on to Duncan's cottage. There she
+found the piper, who could not tell her where his boy was, but gave
+her a hearty welcome, and offered her a cup of tea, which, as it
+was now late in the afternoon, Miss Horn gladly accepted. As he
+bustled about to prepare it, refusing all assistance from his guest,
+he began to open his mind to her on a subject much in his thoughts
+--namely, Malcolm's inexplicable aversion to Mrs Stewart.
+
+"Ta nem of Stewart will pe a nople worrt, mem," he said.
+
+"It's guid eneuch to ken a body by," answered Miss Horn.
+
+"If ta poy will pe a Stewart," he went on, heedless of the
+indifference of her remark, "who'll pe knowing put he'll may pe of
+ta plood royal!"
+
+"There didna leuk to be muckle royalty aboot auld John, honest man,
+wha cudna rule a wife, though he had but ane!" returned Miss Horn.
+
+"If you'll please, mem, ton't you'll pe too sherp on ta poor man
+whose wife will not pe ta coot wife. If ta wife will pe ta paad
+wife, she will pe ta paad wife however, and ta poor man will pe
+hafing ta paad wife and ta paad plame of it too, and tat will pe
+more as 'll pe fair, mem."
+
+"'Deed ye never said a truer word, Maister MacPhail!" assented Miss
+Horn. "It's a mercy 'at a lone wuman like me, wha has a maisterfu'
+temper o' her ain, an' nae feelin's, was never putten to the
+temptation o' occkypeein' sic a perilous position. I doobt gien
+auld John had been merried upo' me, I micht hae putten on the wrang
+claes some mornin' mysel', an' may be had ill gettin' o' them aff
+again."
+
+The old man was silent, and Miss Horn resumed the main subject of
+their conversation.
+
+"But though he michtna objec' till a father 'at he wasna jist Hector
+or Golia' o' Gath," she said, "ye canna wonner 'at the yoong laad
+no carin' to hae sic a mither."
+
+"And what would pe ta harm with ta mother? Will she not pe a coot
+woman, and a coot letty more to ta bargain?"
+
+"Ye ken what fowk says till her guideship o' her son?"
+
+"Yes; put tat will pe ta lies of ta peoples. Ta peoples wass always
+telling lies."
+
+"Weel, allooin', it 's a peety ye sudna ken, supposin' him to be
+hers, hoo sma' fowk hauds the chance o' his bein' a Stewart, for
+a' that!"
+
+"she'll not pe comprestanding you," said Duncan, bewildered.
+
+"He's a wise son 'at kens his ain faither!" remarked Miss Horn,
+with more point than originality. "The leddy never bore the best
+o' characters, as far 's my memory taks me,--an' that's back
+afore John an' her was merried ony gait. Na, na; John Stewart never
+took a dwaum 'cause Ma'colm MacPhail was upo' the ro'd."
+
+Miss Horn was sufficiently enigmatical; but her meaning had at
+length, more through his own reflection than her exposition, dawned
+upon Duncan. He leaped up with a Gaelic explosion of concentrated
+force, and cried,
+
+"Ta woman is not pe no mothers to Tuncan's poy!"
+
+"Huly, huly, Mr MacPhail!" interposed Miss Horn, with good natured
+revenge; "it may be naething but fowk's lees, ye ken."
+
+"Ta woman tat ta peoples will pe telling lies of her, wass not pe
+ta mother of her poy Malcolm. Why tidn't ta poy tell her ta why
+tat he wouldn't pe hafing her?"
+
+"Ye wadna hae him spread an ill report o' his ain mither?"
+
+"Put she'll not pe his mother, and you'll not pelieve it, mem."
+
+"Ye canna priv that--you nor him aither."
+
+"It will pe more as would kill her poy to haf a woman like tat to
+ta mother of him."
+
+"It wad be near ban' as ill is haein' her for a wife," assented
+Miss Horn; "but no freely (quite)," she added.
+
+The old man sought the door, as if for a breath of air; but as he
+went, he blundered, and felt about as if he had just been struck
+blind; ordinarily he walked in his own house at least, as if he saw
+every inch of the way. Presently he returned and resumed his seat.
+
+"Was the bairn laid mither nakit intill yer han's, Maister MacPhail?"
+asked Miss Horn, who had been meditating.
+
+"Och! no; he wass his clo'es on," answered Duncan.
+
+"Hae ye ony o' them left?" she asked again.
+
+"Inteet not," answered Duncan. "Yes, inteet not."
+
+"Ye lay at the Salmon, didna ye?"
+
+"Yes, mem, and they wass coot to her."
+
+"Wha drest the bairn till ye?"
+
+"Och! she'll trest him herself," said Duncan, still jealous of
+the women who had nursed the child.
+
+"But no aye?" suggested Miss Horn.
+
+"Mistress Partan will pe toing a coot teal of tressing him, sometimes.
+Mistress Partan is a coot 'oman when she'll pe coot--fery coot
+when she'll pe coot."
+
+Here Malcolm entered, and Miss Horn told him what she had seen of
+the laird, and gathered concerning him.
+
+"That luiks ill for Phemy," remarked Malcolm, when she had described
+his forlorn condition. "She canna be wi' 'im, or he wadna be like
+that. Hae ye onything by w'y o' coonsel, mem?"
+
+"I wad coonsel a word wi' the laird himsel'--gien 't be to be
+gotten. He mayna ken what 's happent her, but he may tell ye the
+last he saw o' her, an' that maun be mair nor ye ken."
+
+"He 's taen sic a doobt o' me 'at  feart it 'll be hard to come
+at him, an' still harder to come at speech o' 'im, for whan he 's
+frichtit he can hardly muv is jawbane--no to say speyk. I maun
+try though and du my best. Ye think he's lurkin' aboot Fife Hoose,
+div ye, mem?"
+
+"He's been seen there awa' this while--aff an' on."
+
+"Weel, I s' jist gang an' put on my fisher claes, an set oot
+at ance. I maun haud ower to Scaurnose first, though, to lat them
+ken 'at he 's been gotten sicht o'. It 'll be but sma' comfort, I
+doobt."
+
+"Malcolm, my son," interjected Duncan, who had been watching for
+the conversation to afford him an opening, "if you'll pe meeting
+any one will caal you ta son of tat woman, gif him a coot plow in
+ta face, for you'll pe no son of hers, efen if she'll proof it--
+no more as hersel. If you'll pe her son, old Tuncan will pe tisown
+you for efer, and efermore, amen."
+
+"What's broucht you to this, daddie?" asked Malcolm, who, ill as
+he liked the least allusion to the matter, could not help feeling
+curious, and indeed almost amused.
+
+"Nefer you mind. Miss Horn will pe hafing coot reasons tat Mistress
+Stewart 'll not can pe your mother."
+
+Malcolm turned to Miss Horn.
+
+"I've said naething to Maister MacPhail but what I've said mair
+nor ance to yersel', laddie," she replied to the eager questioning
+of his eyes. "Gang yer wa's. The trowth maun cow the lee i' the
+lang rin. Aff wi' ye to Blue Peter!"
+
+When Malcolm reached Scaurnose he found Phemy's parents in a sad
+state. Joseph had returned that morning from a fruitless search in
+a fresh direction, and reiterated disappointment seemed to have at
+length overcome Annie's endurance, for she had taken to her bed.
+Joseph was sitting before the fire on a three legged stool rocking
+himself to and fro in a dull agony. When he heard Malcolm's voice,
+he jumped to his feet, and a flash of hope shot from his eyes: but
+when he had heard all, he sat down again without a word, and began
+rocking himself as before. Mrs Mair was lying in the darkened
+closet, where, the door being partly open, she had been listening
+with all her might, and was now weeping afresh. Joseph was the
+first to speak: still rocking himself with hopeless oscillation, he
+said, in a strange muffled tone which seemed to come from somewhere
+else--"Gien I kent she was weel deid I wadna care. It's no like
+a father to be sittin' here, but whaur 'll I gang neist? The wife
+thinks I micht be duin' something: I kenna what to du. This last
+news is waur nor mane. I hae maist nae faith left. Ma'colm, man!"
+and with a bitter cry he started to his feet--"I maist dinna
+believe there's a God ava'. It disna luik like it--dis 't noo?"
+
+There came an answering cry from the closet; Annie rushed out, half
+undressed, and threw her arms about her husband.
+
+"Joseph! Joseph!" she said, in a voice hard with agony--almost
+more dreadful than a scream--"gien ye speyk like that, ye 'll
+drive me mad. Lat the lassie gang, but lea' me my God!" Joseph
+pushed her gently away; turned from her, fell on his knees, and
+moaned out--"O God, gien thoo has her, we s' neither greit nor
+grum'le: but dinna tak the faith frae 's."
+
+He remained on his knees silent, with his head against the chimney
+jamb. His wife crept away to her closet.
+
+"Peter," said Malcolm, " gaein' aff the nicht to luik for the
+laird, and see gien he can tell 's onything aboot her: wadna ye
+better come wi' me?"
+
+To the heart of the father it was as the hope of the resurrection
+of the world. The same moment he was on his feet and taking down
+his bonnet; the next he disappeared in the closet, and Malcolm heard
+the tinkling of the money in the lidless teapot; then out he came
+with a tear on his face and a glimmer in his eyes.
+
+The sun was down, and a bone piercing chill, incarnate in the
+vague mist that haunted the ground, assailed them as they left the
+cottage. The sea moaned drearily. A smoke seemed to ascend from
+the horizon halfway to the zenith, something too thin for cloud,
+too black for vapour; above that the stars were beginning to shine.
+Joseph shivered and struck his hands against his shoulders.
+
+"Care 's cauldrife," he said, and strode on.
+
+Almost in silence they walked together to the county town, put up
+at a little inn near the river, and at once began to make inquiries.
+Not a few persons had seen the laird at different times, but none
+knew where he slept or chiefly haunted. There was nothing for it
+but to set out in the morning, and stray hither and thither, on
+the chance of somewhere finding him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXII: THE CUTTLE FISH AND THE CRAB
+
+
+Although the better portion of the original assembly had forsaken
+the Baillies' Barn, there was still a regular gathering in it as
+before, and if possible even a greater manifestation of zeal for the
+conversion of sinners. True, it might not be clear to an outsider
+that they always made a difference between being converted and
+joining their company, so ready were they to mix up the two in their
+utterances; and the result's of what they counted conversion were
+sometimes such as the opponents of their proceedings would have had
+them: the arrogant became yet more arrogant, and the greedy more
+greedy; the tongues of the talkative went yet faster, and the gad
+abouts were yet seldomer at home, while there was such a superabundance
+of private judgment that it overflowed the cisterns of their own
+concerns, and invaded the walled gardens of other people's motives:
+yet, notwithstanding, the good people got good, if the other sort
+got evil; for the meek shall inherit the earth, even when the
+priest ascends the throne of Augustus. No worst thing ever done in
+the name of Christianity, no vilest corruption of the Church, can
+destroy the eternal fact that the core of it is in the heart of
+Jesus. Branches innumerable may have to be lopped off and cast into
+the fire, yet the word I am the vine remaineth.
+
+The demagogues had gloried in the expulsion of such men as Jeames
+Gentle and Blue Peter, and were soon rejoiced by the return of Bow
+o' meal--after a season of backsliding to the fleshpots of Egypt,
+as they called the services of the parish church--to the bosom of
+the Barn, where he soon was again one of the chief amongst them.
+Meantime the circles of their emanating influence continued to
+spread, until at length they reached the lower classes of the upper
+town, of whom a few began to go to Barn. Amongst them, for reasons
+best known to herself, though they might be surmised by such
+as really knew her, was Mrs Catanach. I do not know that she ever
+professed repentance and conversion, but for a while she attended
+pretty often. Possibly business considerations had something to do
+with it. Assuredly the young preacher, though he still continued
+to exhort, did so with failing strength, and it was plain to see
+that he was going rapidly: the exercise of the second of her twin
+callings might be required. She could not, however, have been drawn
+by any large expectations as to the honorarium. Still, she would
+gain what she prized even more--a position for the moment at the
+heart of affairs, with its excelling chances of hearing and overhearing.
+Never had lover of old books half the delight in fitting together
+a rare volume from scattered portions picked up in his travels,
+than Mrs Catanach found in vitalizing stray remarks, arranging odds
+and ends of news, and cementing the many fragments, with the help
+of the babblings of gossip, into a plausible whole; intellectually
+considered, her special pursuit was inasmuch the nobler as the
+faculties it brought into exercise were more delicate and various;
+and if her devotion to the minutia of biography had no high end
+in view, it never caused her to lose sight of what ends she had,
+by involving her in opinions, prejudices, or disputes: however she
+might break out at times, her general policy was to avoid quarrelling.
+There was a strong natural antagonism between her and the Partaness,
+but she had never shown the least dislike to her, and that although
+Mrs Findlay had never lost an opportunity of manifesting hers to
+the midwife. Indeed, having gained a pretext by her ministrations
+to Lizzy when overcome by the suggestions of the dog sermon, Mrs
+Catanach had assayed an approach to her mother, and not without
+success. After the discovery of the physical cause of Lizzy's
+ailment, however, Mrs Findlay had sought, by might of rude resolve, to
+break loose from the encroaching acquaintanceship, but had found,
+as yet, that the hard shelled crab was not a match for the glutinous
+cuttlefish.
+
+On the evening of the Sunday following the events related in the
+last chapter, Mrs Catanach had, not without difficulty, persuaded
+Mrs Findlay to accompany her to the Baillies' Barn, with the
+promise of a wonderful sermon from a new preacher--a ploughman
+on an inland farm. That she had an object in desiring her company
+that night, may seem probable from the conversation which arose as
+they plodded their way thither along the sands.
+
+"I h'ard a queer tale aboot Meg Horn at Duff Harbour the ither
+day," said the midwife, speaking thus disrespectfully both to ease
+her own heart and to call forth the feelings of her companion, who
+also, she knew, disliked Miss Horn.
+
+"Ay! an' what micht that be?"
+
+"But she's maybe a freen' o' yours, Mrs Findlay? Some fowk likes
+her, though I canna say  ane o' them."
+
+"Freen' o' mine!" exclaimed the Partaness. "We gree like twa bills
+(bulls) i' the same park!"
+
+"I wadna wonner!--for they tellt me 'at saw her fechtin' i' the
+High Street wi' a muckle loon, near han' as big 's hersel'! an'
+haith, but Meg had the best o' 't, an' flang him intil the gutter,
+an' maist fellt him! An' that's Meg Horn!"
+
+"She had been at the drink! But I never h'ard it laid till her
+afore."
+
+"Didna ye than? Weel,  no sayin' onything--that's what I
+h'ard."
+
+"Ow, it 's like eneuch! She was bulliraggin' at me nae langer ago
+nor thestreen; but I doobt I sent her awa' wi' a flech (flea) in
+her lug!"
+
+"Whaten a craw had she to pluck wi' you, no?"
+
+"Ow fegs! ye wad hae ta'en her for a thief catcher, and me for the
+thief! She wad threpe (insist) 'at I bude to hae keepit some o'
+the duds 'at happit Ma'colm MacPhail the reprobat, whan first he
+cam to the Seaton--a puir scraichin' brat, as reid 's a bilet
+lobster. Wae 's me 'at ever he was creatit! It jist drives me horn
+daft to think 'at ever he got the breast o' me. 'At he sud sair
+(serve) me sae! But I s' hae a grip o' 'im yet, or my name 's no
+--what they ca' me."
+
+"It's the w'y o' the warl', Mistress Findlay. What cud ye expec'
+o' ane born in sin an' broucht furth in ineequity?"--a stock
+phrase of Mrs Catanach's, glancing at her profession, and embracing
+nearly the whole of her belief.
+
+"It's a true word. The mair 's the peety he sud hae hed the milk
+o' an honest wuman upo' the tap o' that!"
+
+"But what cud the auld runt be efter? What was her business wi'
+'t? She never did onything for the bairn."
+
+"Na, no she! She never had the chance, guid or ill--Ow! doobtless
+it wad be anent what they ca' the eedentryfeein' o' im to the
+leddy o' Gersefell. She had sent her. She micht hae waled (chosen)
+a mair welcome messenger, an' sent her a better eeran! But she made
+little o' me."
+
+"Ye had naething o' the kin', I s' wad."
+
+"Never a threid. There was a twal hunner shift upo' the bairn,
+rowt roon 'im like deid claes:--gien 't had been but the Lord's
+wull! It gart me wonner at the time, for that wasna hoo a bairn
+'at had been caret for sud be cled."
+
+"Was there name or mark upo' 't?" asked cuttlefish.
+
+"Nane; there was but the place whaur the reid ingrain had been
+pykit oot," answered crab.
+
+"An what cam o' the shift?"
+
+"Ow, I jist made it doon for a bit sark to the bairn whan he grew
+to be rinnin' aboot. 'At ever I sud hae ta'en steik in claith for
+sic a deil's buckie! To ane 'at was a mither till 'im! The Lord
+haud me ohn gane mad whan I think o' 't!"
+
+"An' syne for Lizzy!--" began Mrs Catanach, prefacing fresh remark.
+
+But at her name the mother flew into such a rage that, fearful of
+scandal, seeing it was the Sabbath and they were on their way to
+public worship, her companion would have exerted all her powers of
+oiliest persuasion to appease her. But if there was one thing Mrs
+Catanach did not understand it was the heart of a mother.
+
+"Hoots, Mistress Findlay! Fowk 'll hear ye. Haud yer tongue, I beg.
+She may dee i' the strae for me. I s' never put han' to the savin'
+o' her, or her bairn aither," said the midwife, thinking thus to
+pacify her.
+
+Then, like the eruption following mere volcanic unrest, out brake
+the sore hearted woman's wrath. And now at length the crustacean
+was too much for the mollusk. She raved and scolded and abused Mrs
+Catanach, till at last she was driven to that final resource--the
+airs of an injured woman. She turned and walked back to the upper
+town, while Mrs Findlay went on to take what share she might in
+the worship of the congregation.
+
+Mrs Mair had that evening gone once more to the Baillies' Barn in
+her husband's absence; for the words of unbelief he had uttered
+in the Job-like agony of his soul, had haunted the heart of his
+spouse, until she too felt as if she could hardly believe in a God.
+Few know what a poor thing their faith is till the trial comes.
+And in the weakness consequent on protracted suffering, she had
+begun to fancy that the loss of Phemy was a punishment upon them
+for deserting the conventicle. Also the schoolmaster was under an
+interdict, and that looked like a judgment too! She must find some
+prop for the faith that was now shaking like a reed in the wind.
+So to the Baillies' Barn she had gone.
+
+The tempest which had convulsed Mrs Findlay's atmosphere, had
+swept its vapours with it as it passed away; and when she entered
+the cavern, it was with an unwonted inclination to be friendly all
+round. As fate would have it, she unwittingly took her place by
+Mrs Mair, whom she had not seen since she gave Lizzy shelter. When
+she discovered who her neighbour was, she started away, and stared;
+but she had had enough of quarrelling for the evening, and besides
+had not had time to bar her door against the angel Pity, who suddenly
+stepped across the threshhold of her heart with the sight of Mrs
+Mair's pale thin cheeks and tear reddened eyes. As suddenly, however,
+an indwelling demon of her own house, whose name was Envy, arose
+from the ashes of her hearth to meet the white robed visitant:
+Phemy, poor little harmless thing, was safe enough! who would harm
+a hair of her? but Lizzy! And this woman had taken in the fugitive
+from honest chastisement! She would yet have sought another seat
+but the congregation rose to sing; and her neighbour's offer of
+the use in common of her psalm book, was enough to quiet for the
+moment the gaseous brain of the turbulent woman. She accepted the
+kindness, and, the singing over, did not refuse to look on the same
+holy page with her daughter's friend, while the ploughman read,
+with fitting simplicity, the parable of the Prodigal Son. It touched
+something in both, but a different something in each. Strange to
+say, neither applied it to her own case, but each to her neighbour's.
+As the reader uttered the words "was lost and is found" and ceased,
+each turned to the other with a whisper. Mrs Mair persisted in
+hers; and the other, which was odd enough, yielded and listened.
+
+"Wad the tale haud wi' lassies as weel 's laddies, Mistress Findlay,
+div ye think?" said Mrs Mair.
+
+"Ow, surely!" was the response; "it maun du that. There no respec'
+o' persons wi' him. there's no a doobt but yer Phemy 'ill come
+hame to ye safe an' soon'."
+
+"I was thinkin' aboot Lizzy," said the other, a little astonished;
+and then the prayer began, and they had to be silent.
+
+The sermon of the ploughman was both dull and sensible,--an
+excellent variety where few of the sermons were either; but it made
+little impression on Mrs Findlay or Mrs Mair.
+
+As they left the cave together in the crowd of issuing worshippers,
+Mrs Mair whispered again:
+
+"I wad invete ye ower, but ye wad be wantin' Lizzy hame, an' I can
+ill spare the comfort o' her the noo," she said, with the cunning
+of a dove.
+
+"An' what comes o' me?" rejoined Mrs Findlay, her claws out in a
+moment where her personal consequence was touched. "Ye wadna surely
+tak her frae me a' at ance!" pleaded Mrs Mair. "Ye micht lat her
+bide--jist till Phemy comes hame; an' syne--" But there she
+broke down; and the tempest of sobs that followed quite overcame
+the heart of Mrs Findlay. She was, in truth, a woman like another;
+only being of the crustacean order, she had not yet swallowed her
+skeleton, as all of us have to do more or less, sooner or later,
+the idea of that scaffolding being that it should be out of sight.
+With the best commonplaces at her command she sought to comfort
+her companion; walked with her to the foot of the red path; found
+her much more to her mind than Mrs Catanach: seemed inclined to
+go with her all the way, but suddenly stopped, bade her goodnight,
+and left her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIII: MISS HORN AND LORD LOSSIE
+
+
+Notwithstanding the quarrel, Mrs Catanach did not return without
+having gained something; she had learned that Miss Horn had been
+foiled in what she had no doubt was an attempt to obtain proof
+that Malcolm was not the son of Mrs Stewart. The discovery was a
+grateful one; for who could have told but there might be something
+in existence to connect him with another origin than she and Mrs
+Stewart would assign him?
+
+The next day the marquis returned. Almost his first word was the
+desire that Malcolm should be sent to him. But nobody knew more
+than that he was missing; whereupon he sent for Duncan. The old
+man explained his boy's absence, and as soon as he was dismissed,
+took his way to the town, and called upon Miss Horn. In half an
+hour, the good lady started on foot for Duff Harbour. It was already
+growing dark; but there was one feeling Miss Horn had certainly
+been created without, and that was fear.
+
+As she approached her destination, tramping eagerly along, in
+a half cloudy, half starlit night, with a damp east wind blowing
+cold from the German Ocean, she was startled by the swift rush of
+something dark across the road before her. It came out of a small
+wood on the left towards the sea, and bolted through a hedge on
+the right.
+
+"Is that you, laird?" she cried; but there came no answer.
+
+She walked straight to the house of her lawyer friend, and, after
+an hour's rest, the same night set out again for Portlossie, which
+she reached in safety by her bedtime.
+
+Lord Lossie was very accessible. Like Shakspere's Prince Hal, he
+was so much interested in the varieties of the outcome of human
+character, that he would not willingly lose a chance of seeing
+"more man." If the individual proved a bore, he would get rid of
+him without remorse; if amusing, he would contrive to prolong the
+interview. There was a great deal of undeveloped humanity somewhere
+in his lordship, one of whose indications was this spectacular
+interest in his kind. As to their bygone history, how they fared
+out of his sight, or what might become of them, he never gave
+a thought to anything of the kind--never felt the pull of one
+of the bonds of brotherhood, laughed at them the moment they were
+gone, or, if a woman's story had touched him, wiped his eyes with
+an oath, and thought himself too good a fellow for this world.
+
+Since his retirement from the more indolent life of the metropolis
+to the quieter and more active pursuits of the country, his character
+had bettered a little--inasmuch as it was a shade more accessible
+to spiritual influences; the hard soil had in a few places cracked
+a hair's breadth, and lay thus far open to the search of those sun
+rays which, when they find the human germ, that is, the conscience,
+straightway begin to sting it into life. To this betterment the
+company of his daughter had chiefly contributed; for if she was
+little more developed in the right direction than himself she was
+far less developed in the wrong, and the play of affection between
+them was the divinest influence that could as yet be brought to
+bear upon either; but certain circumstances of late occurrence had
+had a share in it, occasioning a revival of old memories which had
+a considerably sobering effect upon him.
+
+As he sat at breakfast, about eleven o'clock on the morning after
+his return, one of his English servants entered with the message
+that a person, calling herself Miss Horn, and refusing to explain
+her business desired to see his lordship for a few minutes "Who is
+she?" asked the marquis. The man did not know.
+
+"What is she like?"
+
+"An odd looking old lady, my lord, and very oddly dressed."
+
+"Show her into the next room. I shall be with her directly."
+
+Finishing his cup of coffee and peafowl's egg with deliberation,
+while he tried his best to recall in what connection he could have
+heard the name before, the marquis at length sauntered into the
+morning room in his dressing gown, with the Times of the day before
+yesterday, just arrived, in his hand. There stood his visitor
+waiting for him, such as my reader knows her, black and gaunt and
+grim, in a bay window, whose light almost surrounded her, so that
+there was scarcely a shadow about her, and yet to the eyes of the
+marquis she seemed wrapped in shadows. Mysterious as some sybil,
+whose being held secrets the first whisper of which had turned her
+old, but made her immortal, she towered before him, with her eyes
+fixed upon him, and neither spoke nor moved.
+
+"To what am I indebted--?" began his lordship; but Miss Horn
+speedily interrupted his courtesy.
+
+"Own to nae debt, my lord, till ye ken what it 's for," she said,
+without a tone or inflection to indicate a pleasantry.
+
+"Good!" returned his lordship, and waited with a smile. She promised
+amusement, and he was ready for it--but it hardly came.
+
+"Ken ye that han' o' wreet, my lord?" she inquired, sternly advancing
+a step, and holding out a scrap of paper at arm's length, as if
+presenting a pistol.
+
+The marquis took it. In his countenance curiosity had mingled with
+the expectation. He glanced at it. A shadow swept over his face but
+vanished instantly: the mask of impervious non expression which a
+man of his breeding always knows how to assume, was already on his
+visage.
+
+"Where did you get this?" he said quietly, with just the slightest
+catch in his voice.
+
+"I got it, my lord, whaur there's mair like it."
+
+"Show me them."
+
+"I hae shawn ye plenty for a swatch (pattern), my lord."
+
+"You refuse?" said the marquis; and the tone of the question was
+like the first cold puff that indicates a change of weather.
+
+"I div, my lord," she answered imperturbably.
+
+"If they are not my property, why do you bring me this?"
+
+"Are they your property, my lord?"
+
+"This is my handwriting."
+
+"Ye alloo that?"
+
+"Certainly, my good woman. You did not expect me to deny it?"
+
+"God forbid, my lord! But will ye uphaud yersel' the lawfu' heir
+to the deceased? It lies 'atween yer lordship an' mysel'--i' the
+meantime."
+
+He sat down, holding the scrap of paper between his finger and
+thumb.
+
+"I will buy them of you," he said coolly, after a moment's thought,
+and as he spoke he looked keenly at her.
+
+The form of reply which first arose in Miss Horn's indignant soul
+never reached her lips.
+
+"It's no my trade," she answered, with the coldness of suppressed
+wrath. "I dinna deal in sic waurs."
+
+"What do you deal in then?" asked the marquis.
+
+"In trouth an' fair play, my lord," she answered, and was again
+silent.
+
+So was the marquis for some moments, but was the first to resume.
+
+"If you think the papers to which you refer of the least value,
+allow me to tell you it is an entire mistake."
+
+"There was ane thoucht them o' vailue," replied Miss Horn--and
+her voice trembled a little, but she hemmed away her emotion--
+"for a time at least, my lord; an' for her sake they're o' vailue
+to me, be they what they may to yer lordship. But wha can tell?
+Scots law may put life intill them yet, an' gie them a vailue to
+somebody forbye me."
+
+"What I mean, my good woman, is, that if you think the possession
+of those papers gives you any hold over me which you can turn to
+your advantage, you are mistaken."
+
+"Guid forgie ye, my lord! My advantage! I thoucht yer lordship had
+been mair o' a gentleman by this time, or I wad hae sent a lawyer
+till ye, in place o' comin' mysel'."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"It's plain ye cudna hae been muckle o' a gentleman ance, my lord;
+an' it seems ye're no muckle mair o' ane yet, for a' ye maun hae
+come throu' i' the meantime."
+
+"I trust you have discovered nothing in those letters to afford
+ground for such a harsh judgment," said the marquis seriously.
+
+"Na, no a word i' them, but the mair oot o' them. Ye winna threep
+upo' me 'at a man wha lea's a wuman, lat alane his wife--or
+ane 'at he ca's his wife--to a' the pains o' a mither, an' a'
+the penalties o' an oonmerried ane, ohn ever speirt hoo she wan
+throu' them, preserves the richt he was born till o' bein' coontit
+a gentleman? Ony gait, a maiden, wuman like mysel' wha has nae
+feelin's will not alloo him the teetle--Guid forbid it!"
+
+"You are plain spoken."
+
+" plain made, my lord. I ken guid frae ill, an' little forbye,
+but aye fand that eneuch to sare my turn. Aither thae letters o'
+yer lordship's are ilk ane o' them a lee, or ye desertit yer wife
+an' bairn."
+
+"Alas!" interrupted the marquis with some emotion--"she deserted
+me--and took the child with her!"
+
+"Wha ever daurt sic a lee upo' my Grizel?" shouted Miss Horn,
+clenching and shaking her bony fist at the world in general. "It
+was but a fortnicht or three weeks, as near as I can judge, efter
+the birth o' your bairn, that Grizel Cam'ell--"
+
+"Were you with her then?" again interrupted the marquis, in a tone
+of sorrowful interest.
+
+"No, my lord, I was not. Gien I had been, I wadna be upo' sic an
+eeran' this day. For nigh twenty lang years 'at her 'an me keepit
+hoose thegither, till she dee'd i' my airms, never a day was she
+oot o' my sicht, or ance--"
+
+The marquis leaped rather than started to his feet, exclaiming,
+"What in the name of God do you mean, woman?"
+
+"I kenna what ye mean, my lord. I ken 'at  but tellin' ye the
+trouth whan I tell ye 'at Grizel Cam'ell, up to that day,
+an' that's little ower sax month sin' syne."
+
+"Good God!" cried the marquis; "and here have I--Woman! are you
+speaking the truth? If--," he added threateningly, and paused.
+
+"Leein' 's what I never cud bide, my lord, an'  no likly to
+tak till 't at my age, wi' the lang to come afore me."
+
+The marquis strode several times up and down the floor. "I 'll
+give you a thousand pounds for those letters," he said, suddenly
+stopping in front of Miss Horn.
+
+"they're o' nae sic worth, my lord--I hae yer ain word for 't.
+But I carena the leg o' a spin maggie (daddy longlegs)! Pairt wi'
+them I will not, 'cep' to him 'at pruves himsel' the richtfu' heir
+to them."
+
+"A husband inherits from his wife."
+
+"Or maybe her son micht claim first--I dinna ken. But there's
+lawyers, my lord, to redd the doot."
+
+"Her son! You don't mean--"
+
+"I div mean Ma'colm MacPhail, my lord."
+
+"God in heaven!"
+
+"His name 's mair i' yer mou' nor i' yer hert,  doobtin', my
+lord! Ye a' cry oot upo' him--the men o' ye--whan ye' 're in
+ony tribble, or want to gar women believe ye! But  thinkin' he
+peys but little heed to sic prayers."
+
+Thus Miss Horn; but Lord Lossie was striding up and down the room,
+heedless of her remarks, his eyes on the ground, his arms straight
+by his sides, and his hands clenched.
+
+"Can you prove what you say?" he asked at length, half stopping,
+and casting an almost wild look at Miss Horn, then resuming his
+hurried walk. His voice sounded hollow, as if sent from the heart
+of a gulf of pain.
+
+"No, my lord," answered Miss Horn.
+
+"Then what the devil," roared the marquis, "do you mean by coming
+to me with such a cock and bull story."
+
+"there's naither cock craw nor bill rair intill 't my lord. I cum
+to you wi' 't i' the houp ye 'll help to redd (clear) it up, for
+I dinna weel ken what we can du wantin' ye. there's but ane kens
+a' the truth o' 't, an' she's the awfu'es leear oot o' purgatory
+--no 'at I believe in purgatory, but it 's the langer an' lichter
+word to mak' use o'."
+
+"Who is she?"
+
+"By name she's Bauby Cat'nach, an' by natur' she's what I tell ye
+--an' gien I had her 'atween my twa een, it 's what I wad say to
+the face o' her."
+
+"It can't be MacPhail! Mrs Stewart says he is her son, and the
+woman Catanach is her chief witness in support of the claim."
+
+"The deevil has a better to the twa o' them, my lord, as they 'll
+ken some day. His claim 'll want nae supportin'. Dinna ye believe
+a word Mistress Stewart or Bauby Catanach aither wad say to ye.--
+Gien he be Mistress Stewart's, wha was his father?"
+
+"You think he resembles my late brother: he has a look of him, I
+confess."
+
+"He has, my lord. But onybody 'at kent the mither o' 'im, as you
+an' me did, my lord, wad see anither lik'ness as weel."
+
+"I grant nothing."
+
+"Ye grant Grizel Cam'ell yer wife, my lord, whan ye own to that
+wreet. Gien 't war naething but a written promise an' a bairn to
+follow, it wad be merriage eneuch i' this cuintry, though it mayna
+be in cuintries no sae ceevileest."
+
+"But all that is nothing as to the child. Why do you fix on this
+young fellow? You say you can't prove it."
+
+"But ye cud, my lord, gien ye war as set upo' justice as I am. Gien
+ye winna muv i' the maitter, we s' manage to hirple (go halting)
+throu' wantin ye, though, wi' the Lord's help."
+
+The marquis, who had all this time continued his walk up and down
+the floor, stood still, raised his head as if about to speak, dropped
+it again on his chest, strode to the other window, turned, strode
+back, and said,
+
+"This is a very serious matter."
+
+"It's a' that, my lord," replied Miss Horn.
+
+"You must give me a little time to turn it over," said the marquis.
+
+"Isna twenty year time eneuch, my lord?" rejoined Miss Horn.
+
+"I swear to you that till this moment I believed her twenty years
+in her grave. My brother sent me word that she died in childbed,
+and the child with her. I was then in Brussels with the Duke."
+
+Miss Horn made three great strides, caught the marquis's hand in
+both hers, and said, "I praise God ye're an honest man, my lord."
+
+"I hope so," said the marquis, and seized the advantage "You'll hold
+your tongue about this ?" he added, half inquiring, half requesting.
+
+"As lang as I see rizzon, my lord, nae langer," answered Miss Horn,
+dropping his hand. "Richt maun be dune."
+
+"Yes--if you can tell what right is, and avoid wrong to others."
+
+"Richt 's richt, my lord," persisted Miss Horn. "I 'll hae nae
+modifi-qualifications!"
+
+His lordship once more began to walk up and down the room every now
+and then taking a stolen glance at Miss Horn, a glance of uneasy
+anxious questioning. She stood rigid--a very Lot's wife of
+immobility, her eyes on the ground, waiting what he would say next.
+
+"I wish I knew whether I could trust her," he said at length, as
+if talking aloud to himself.
+
+Miss Horn took no notice.
+
+"Why don't you speak, woman?" cried the marquis with irritation.
+How he hated perplexity!
+
+"Ye speired nae queston, my lord; an' gien ye had, my word has ower
+little weicht to answer wi'."
+
+"Can I trust you, woman--I want to know," said his lordship
+angrily.
+
+"No far'er, my lord, nor to du what I think 's richt."
+
+"I want to be certain that you will do nothing with those letters
+until you hear from me?" said the marquis, heedless of her reply.
+
+"I 'll du naething afore the morn. Far'er nor that I winna pledge
+mysel'," answered Miss Horn, and with the words moved towards the
+door.
+
+"Hadn't you better take this with you?" said the marquis, offering
+the little note, which he had carried all the time between his
+finger and thumb.
+
+"there's nae occasion. I hae plenty wantin' that. Only dinna lea'
+'t lyin' aboot."
+
+"there's small danger of that," said the marquis, and rang the
+bell.
+
+The moment she was out of the way, he went up to his own room, and,
+flinging the door to, sat down at the table, and laid his arms and
+head upon it. The acrid vapour of tears that should have been wept
+long since, rose to his eyes: he dashed his hand across them, as
+if ashamed that he was not even yet out of sight of the kingdom of
+heaven. His own handwriting, of a period when all former sins and
+defilements seemed about to be burned clean from his soul by the
+fire of an honest and virtuous love, had moved him; for genuine
+had been his affection for the girl who had risked and lost so much
+for him. It was with no evil intent, for her influence had rendered
+him for the time incapable of playing her false, but in part from
+reasons of prudence, as he persuaded himself, for both their sakes,
+and in part led astray by the zest which minds of a certain cast
+derive from the secrecy of pleasure, that he had persuaded her to
+the unequal yoking of honesty and secrecy. But, suddenly called
+away and sent by the Prince on a private mission, soon after their
+marriage, and before there was any special reason to apprehend
+consequences that must lead to discovery, he had, in the difficulties
+of the case and the hope of a speedy return, left her without any
+arrangement for correspondence and all he had ever heard of her
+more was from his brother, then the marquis--a cynical account
+of the discovery of her condition, followed almost immediately by
+a circumstantial one of her death and that of her infant. He was
+deeply stung and the thought of her sufferings in the false position
+where his selfishness had placed her, haunted him for a time beyond
+his endurance--for of all things he hated suffering, and of all
+sufferings remorse is the worst. Hence, where a wiser man might
+have repented, he rushed into dissipation, whose scorching wind
+swept away not only the healing dews of his sorrow, but the tender
+buds of new life that had begun to mottle the withering tree of his
+nature. The desire after better things which had, under his wife's
+genial influence, begun to pass into effort, not only vanished
+utterly in the shameless round of evil distraction, but its memory
+became a mockery to the cynical spirit that arose behind the vanishing
+angel of repentance; and he was soon in the condition of the man
+from whom the exorcised demon had gone but to find his seven worse
+companions.
+
+Reduced at length to straits--almost to want, he had married the
+mother of Florimel, to whom for a time he endeavoured to conduct
+himself in some measure like a gentleman. For this he had been
+rewarded by a decrease in the rate of his spiritual submergence,
+but his bedraggled nature could no longer walk without treading
+on its own plumes; and the poor lady who had bartered herself for
+a lofty alliance, speedily found her mistake a sad one and her life
+uninteresting, took to repining and tears, alienated her husband
+utterly, and died of a sorrow almost too selfish to afford even a
+suggestion of purifying efficacy. But Florimel had not inherited
+immediately from her mother, so far as disposition was concerned; in
+these latter days she had grown very dear to him, and his love had
+once more turned his face a little towards the path of righteousness.
+Ah! when would he move one step to set his feet in it?
+
+And now, after his whirlwind harvest of evil knowledge, bitter
+disappointment, and fading passion, in the gathering mists of gray
+hopelessness, and the far worse mephitic air of indifference, he
+had come all of a sudden upon the ghastly discovery that, while
+overwhelmed with remorse for the vanished past, the present and
+the future had been calling him, but had now also--that present
+and that future--glided from him, and folded their wings of gloom
+in the land of shadows. All the fierce time he might have been
+blessedly growing better, instead of heaping sin upon sin until
+the weight was too heavy for repentance; for, while he had been
+bemoaning a dead wife, that wife had been loving a renegade husband!
+And the blame of it all he did not fail to cast upon that Providence
+in which until now he had professed not to believe: such faith as
+he was yet capable of, awoke in the form of resentment! He judged
+himself hardly done by; and the few admonitory sermons he had
+happened to hear, especially that in the cave about the dogs going
+round the walls of the New Jerusalem, returned upon him, not as
+warnings, but as old threats now rapidly approaching fulfilment.
+
+Lovely still peered the dim face of his girl wife upon him, through
+the dusty lattice of his memory; and a mighty corroboration of
+Malcolm's asserted birth lay in the look upon his face as he hurried
+aghast from the hermit 's cell; for not on his first had the marquis
+seen that look and in those very circumstances! And the youth was
+one to be proud of--one among a million! But there were other
+and terrible considerations.
+
+Incapable as he naturally was of doing justice to a woman of Miss
+Horn's inflexibility in right, he could yet more than surmise the
+absoluteness of that inflexibility--partly because it was hostile
+to himself, and he was in the mood to believe in opposition and
+harshness, and deny--not providence, but goodness. Convenient half
+measures would, he more than feared, find no favour with her. But
+she had declared her inability to prove Malcolm his son without the
+testimony of Mrs Catanach, and the latter was even now representing
+him as the son of Mrs Stewart! That Mrs Catanach at the same time
+could not be ignorant of what had become of the child born to him,
+he was all but certain; for, on that night when Malcolm and he
+found her in the wizard's chamber, had she not proved her strange
+story--of having been carried to that very room blindfolded,
+and, after sole attendance on the birth of a child, whose mother's
+features, even in her worst pains, she had not once seen, in like
+manner carried away again,--had she not proved the story true
+by handing him the ring she had drawn from the lady's finger, and
+sewn, for the sake of future identification, into the lower edge of
+one of the bed curtains--which ring was a diamond he had given
+his wife from his own finger when they parted? She probably believed
+the lady to have been Mrs Stewart, and the late marquis the father
+of the child. Should he see Mrs Catanach? And what then?
+
+He found no difficulty in divining the reasons which must have
+induced his brother to provide for the secret accouchement of his
+wife in the wizard's chamber, and for the abduction of the child
+--if indeed his existence was not owing to Mrs Catanach's love
+of intrigue. The elder had judged the younger brother unlikely to
+live long, and had expected his own daughter to succeed himself.
+But now the younger might any day marry the governess, and legalize
+the child; and the elder had therefore secured the disappearance
+of the latter, and the belief of his brother in the death of both.
+
+Lord Lossie was roused from his reverie by a tap at the door, which
+he knew for Malcolm's, and answered with admission.
+
+When he entered, his master saw that a change had passed upon him,
+and for a moment believed Miss Horn had already broken faith with
+him and found communication with Malcolm. He was soon satisfied
+of the contrary, however, but would have found it hard indeed to
+understand, had it been represented to him, that the contentment,
+almost elation, of the youth's countenance had its source in the
+conviction that he was not the son of Mrs Stewart.
+
+"So here you are at last!" said the marquis.
+
+"Ay, my lord."
+
+"Did you find Stewart?"
+
+"Ay did we at last, my lord; but we made naething by 't, for he
+kent noucht aboot the lassie, an 'maist lost his wuts at the news."
+
+"No great loss, that!" said the marquis. "Go and send Stoat here."
+
+"Is there ony hurry aboot Sto't, my lord?" asked Malcolm, hesitating.
+"I had a word to say to yer lordship mysel'."
+
+"Make haste then."
+
+" some fain to gang back to the fishin', my lord," said Malcolm.
+"This is ower easy a life for me. The deil wins in for the liftin'
+o' the sneck. Forbye, my lord, a life wi'oot aither danger or wark
+'s some wersh-like (insipid); it wants saut, my lord. But a' that
+'s naither here nor there, I ken, sae lang's ye want me oot o' the
+hoose, my lord."
+
+"Who told you I wanted you out of the house? By Jove! I should have
+made shorter work of it. What put that in your head? Why should
+I?"
+
+"Gien yer lordship kens nane, sma' occasion hae I to baud a rizzon
+to yer han'. I thoucht--but the thoucht itsel's impidence."
+
+"You young fool! You thought, because I came upon you as I did in
+the garret the other night--Bah!--You damned ape! As if I could
+not trust--! Pshaw!"
+
+For the moment Malcolm forgot how angry his master had certainly
+been, although, for Florimel's sake doubtless, he had restrained
+himself; and fancied that, in the faint light of the one candle,
+he had seen little to annoy him, and had taken the storm and its
+results, which were indeed the sole reason, as a sufficient one for
+their being alone together. Everything seemed about to come right
+again. But his master remained silent.
+
+"I houp my leddy's weel," ventured Malcolm at length.
+
+"Quite well. She's with Lady Bellair, in Edinburgh."
+
+Lady Bellair was the bold faced countess.
+
+"I dinna like her," said Malcolm.
+
+"Who the devil asked you to like her?" said the marquis. But he
+laughed as he said it.
+
+"I beg yer lordship's pardon," returned Malcolm. "I said it 'or I
+kent. It was nane o' my business wha my leddy was wi'."
+
+"Certainly not. But I don't mind confessing that Lady Bellair is
+not one I should choose to give authority over Lady Florimel. You
+have some regard for your young mistress, I know, Malcolm."
+
+"I wad dee for her, my lord."
+
+"That's a common assertion," said the marquis.
+
+"No wi' fisher fowk. I kenna hoo it may be wi' your fowk, my lord."
+
+"Well, even with us it means something. It implies at least that he
+who uses it would risk his life for her whom he wishes to believe
+it. But perhaps it may mean more than that in the mouth of a
+fisherman? Do you fancy there is such a thing as devotion--real
+devotion, I mean--self sacrifice, you know?"
+
+"I daurna doobt it, my lord."
+
+"Without fee or hope of reward?"
+
+"There maun be some cawpable o' 't, my lord, or what for sud the
+warl' be? What ither sud haud it ohn been destroyt as Sodom was for
+the want o' the ten richteous? There maun be saut whaur corruption
+hasna the thing a' its ain gait."
+
+"You certainly have pretty high notions of things, MacPhail. For
+my part, I can easily enough imagine a man risking his life; but
+devoting it!--that's another thing altogether."
+
+"There maun be 'at wad du a' 't cud be dune, my lord."
+
+"What, for instance, would you do for Lady Florimel, now? You say
+you would die for her: what does dying mean on a fisherman's tongue?"
+
+"It means a' thing, my lord--short o' ill. I wad sterve for her,
+but I wadna steal. I wad fecht for her, but I wadna lee."
+
+"Would ye be her servant all your days? Come, now."
+
+"Mair nor willin'ly, my lord--gien she wad only hae me, an' keep
+me."
+
+"But supposing you came to inherit the Kirkbyres property?"
+
+"My lord," said Malcolm solemnly, "that's a puir test to put me
+till. It gangs for naething. I wad raither clean my leddie's butes
+frae mornin' to nicht, nor be the son o' that wuman, gien she war
+a born duchess. Try me wi' something worth yer lordship's mou'."
+
+But the marquis seemed to think he had gone far enough for the
+present. With gleaming eyes he rose, took his withered love letter
+from the table, put it in his waistcoat pocket, and saying "Well,
+find out for me what this is they're about with the schoolmaster,"
+walked to the door.
+
+"I ken a' aboot that, my lord," answered Malcolm, "ohn speirt at
+onybody."
+
+Lord Lossie turned from the door, ordered him to bring his riding
+coat and boots, and, ringing the bell, sent a message to Stoat to
+saddle the bay mare.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIV: THE LAIRD AND HIS MOTHER
+
+
+When Malcolm and Joseph set out from Duff Harbour to find the laird,
+they could hardly be said to have gone in search of him: all in
+their power was to seek the parts where he was occasionally seen
+in the hope of chancing upon him; and they wandered in vain about
+the woods of Fife House all that week, returning disconsolate every
+evening to the little inn on the banks of the Wan Water. Sunday came
+and went without yielding a trace of him; and, almost in despair,
+they resolved, if unsuccessful the next day, to get assistance and
+organize a search for him. Monday passed like the days that had
+preceded it, and they were returning dejectedly down the left bank
+of the Wan Water, in the gloamin', and nearing a part where it
+is hemmed in by precipitous rocks, and is very narrow and deep,
+crawling slow and black under the lofty arch of an ancient bridge
+that spans it at one leap, when suddenly they caught sight of a head
+peering over the parapet. They dared not run for fear of terrifying
+him, if it should be the laird, and hurried quietly to the spot.
+But when they reached the end of the bridge its round back was bare
+from end to end. On the other side of the river, the trees came
+close up, and pursuit was hopeless in the gathering darkness.
+
+"Laird, laird! they've taen awa' Phemy, an' we dinna ken whaur to
+luik for her," cried the poor father aloud.
+
+Almost the same instant, and as if he had issued from the ground,
+the laird stood before them. The men started back with astonishment
+--soon changed into pity, for there was light enough to see how
+miserable the poor fellow looked. Neither exposure nor privation
+had thus wrought upon him: he was simply dying of fear. Having
+greeted Joseph with embarrassment, he kept glancing doubtfully at
+Malcolm, as if ready to run on his least movement. In a few words
+Joseph explained their quest, with trembling voice and tears that
+would not be denied enforcing the tale. Ere he had done, the laird's
+jaw had fallen, and further speech was impossible to him. But by
+gestures sad and plain enough, he indicated that he knew nothing
+of her, and had supposed her safe at home with her parents. In vain
+they tried to persuade him to go back with them, promising every
+protection: for sole answer he shook his head mournfully.
+
+There came a sudden gust of wind among the branches. Joseph,
+little used to trees and their ways with the wind, turned towards
+the sound, and Malcolm unconsciously followed his movement. When
+they turned again, the laird had vanished, and they took their way
+homeward in sadness.
+
+What passed next with the laird, can be but conjectured. It came
+to be well enough known afterwards where he had been hiding; and
+had it not been dusk as they came down the riverbank, the two men
+might, looking up to the bridge from below, have had it suggested
+to them. For in the half spandrel wall between the first arch and
+the bank, they might have spied a small window, looking down on
+the sullen, silent gloom, foam flecked with past commotion, that
+crept languidly away from beneath. It belonged to a little vaulted
+chamber in the bridge, devised by some banished lord as a kind of
+summer house--long neglected, but having in it yet a mouldering
+table, a broken chair or two, and a rough bench. A little path led
+steep from the end of the parapet down to its hidden door. It was
+now used only by the gamekeepers for traps and fishing gear, and
+odds and ends of things, and was generally supposed to be locked
+up. The laird had, however, found it open, and his refuge in it had
+been connived at by one of the men, who, as they heard afterwards,
+had given him the key, and assisted him in carrying out a plan he
+had devised for barricading the door. It was from this place he
+had so suddenly risen at the call of Blue Peter, and to it he had
+as suddenly withdrawn again--to pass in silence and loneliness
+through his last purgatorial pain.*
+
+* [Com'io fui dentro, in un bogliente vetro
+Gittato mi sarci per rinfrescarmi,
+Tant' era ivi lo 'ncendio senza metro.
+Del Purgatoria, xxvii. 49.]
+
+Mrs Stewart was sitting in her drawing room alone: she seldom had
+visitors at Kirkbyres--not that she liked being alone, or indeed
+being there at all, for she would have lived on the Continent, but
+that her son's trustees, partly to indulge their own aversion to
+her, taking upon them a larger discretionary power than rightly
+belonged to them, kept her too straitened, which no doubt in the
+recoil had its share in poor Stephen's misery. It was only after
+scraping for a whole year that she could escape to Paris or Hamburg,
+where she was at home. There her sojourn was determined by her good
+or ill fortune at faro.
+
+What she meditated over her knitting by the firelight,--she had
+put out her candles,--it would be hard to say, perhaps unwholesome
+to think:--there are souls to look into which is, to our dim
+eyes, like gazing down from the verge of one of the Swedenborgian
+pits.
+
+But much of the evil done by human beings is as the evil of evil
+beasts: they know not what they do--an excuse which, except in
+regard of the past, no man can make for himself, seeing the very
+making of it must testify its falsehood.
+
+She looked up, gave a cry, and started to her feet: Stephen stood
+before her, halfway between her and the door. Revealed in a flicker
+of flame from the fire, he vanished in the following shade, and
+for a moment she stood in doubt of her seeing sense. But when the
+coal flashed again, there was her son, regarding her out of great
+eyes that looked as if they had seen death. A ghastly air hung
+about him as if he had just come back from Hades, but in his silent
+bearing there was a sanity, even dignity, which strangely impressed
+her. He came forward a pace or two, stopped, and said--
+
+"Dinna be frichtit, mem.  come. Sen' the lassie hame, an' du
+wi' me as ye like. I canna haud aff o' me. But I think  deein',
+an ye needna misguide me."
+
+His voice, although it trembled a little, was clear and unimpeded,
+and though weak, in its modulation manly.
+
+Something in the woman's heart responded. Was it motherhood--
+or the deeper godhead? Was it pity for the dignity housed in the
+crumbling clay, or repentance for the son of her womb? Or was it
+that sickness gave hope, and she could afford to be kind?
+
+"I don't know what you mean, Stephen," she said, more gently than
+he had ever heard her speak.
+
+Was it an agony of mind or of body, or was it but a flickering
+of the shadows upon his face? A moment, and he gave a half choked
+shriek, and fell on the floor. His mother turned from him with
+disgust, and rang the bell.
+
+"Send Tom here," she said.
+
+An elderly, hard featured man came.
+
+"Stephen is in one of his fits," she said.
+
+The man looked about him: he could see no one in the room but his
+mistress.
+
+"There he is," she continued, pointing to the floor. "Take him
+away. Get him up to the loft and lay him in the hay."
+
+The man lifted his master like an unwieldy log, and carried him
+convulsed from the room.
+
+Stephen's mother sat down again by the fire, and resumed her
+knitting.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXV: THE LAIRD'S VISION
+
+
+Malcolm had just seen his master set out for his solitary ride,
+when one of the maids informed him that a man from Kirkbyres wanted
+him. Hiding his reluctance, he went with her and found Tom, who was
+Mrs Stewart's grieve, and had been about the place all his days.
+
+"Mr Stephen's come hame, sir," he said, touching his bonnet, a
+civility for which Malcolm was not grateful.
+
+"It's no possible!" returned Malcolm. "I saw him last nicht."
+
+"He cam about ten o'clock, sir, an' hed a turn o' the fa'in' sickness
+o' the spot. He 's verra ill the noo, an' the mistress sent me ower
+to speir gien ye wad obleege her by gaein' to see him."
+
+"Has he ta'en till 's bed?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"We pat him till 't, sir. He 's ravin' mad, an'  thinkin' he
+'s no far frae his hin'er en'."
+
+"I 'll gang wi' ye direckly," said Malcolm.
+
+In a few minutes they were riding fast along the road to Kirkbyres,
+neither with much to say to the other, for Malcolm distrusted every
+one about the place, and Tom was by nature taciturn.
+
+"What garred them sen' for me--div ye ken?" asked Malcolm at
+length, when they had gone about halfway.
+
+"He cried oot upo' ye i' the nicht," answered Tom.
+
+When they arrived, Malcolm was shown into the drawing room, where
+Mrs Stewart met him with red eyes.
+
+"Will you come and see my poor boy?" she said.
+
+"I wull du that, mem. Is he verra ill?"
+
+"Very.  afraid he is in a bad way."
+
+She led him to a dark old fashioned chamber, rich and gloomy.
+There, sunk in the down of a huge bed with carved ebony posts, lay
+the laird, far too ill to be incommoded by the luxury to which he
+was unaccustomed. His head kept tossing from side to side, and his
+eyes seemed searching in vacancy.
+
+"Has the doctor been to see 'im, mem?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"Yes; but he says he can't do anything for him."
+
+"Wha waits upon 'im, mem?"
+
+"One of the maids and myself."
+
+I 'll jist bide wi' 'im."
+
+"That will be very kind of you."
+
+"I s' bide wi' 'im till I see 'im oot o' this, ae w'y or ither,"
+added Malcolm, and sat down by the bedside of his poor distrustful
+friend. There Mrs Stewart left him.
+
+The laird was wandering in the thorny thickets and slimy marshes
+which, haunted by the thousand misshapen honors of delirium, beset
+the gates of life. That one so near the light, and slowly drifting
+into it, should lie tossing in hopeless darkness! Is it that the
+delirium falls, a veil of love, to hide other and more real terrors?
+
+His eyes would now and then meet those of Malcolm, as they gazed
+tenderly upon him, but the living thing that looked out of the
+windows was darkened, and saw him not. Occasionally a word would
+fall from him, or a murmur of half articulation float up, like
+the sound of a river of souls; but whether Malcolm heard, or only
+seemed to hear, something like this, he could not tell, for he could
+not be certain that he had not himself shaped the words by receiving
+the babble into the moulds of the laird's customary thought and
+speech.
+
+"I dinna ken whaur I cam frae!--I kenna whaur  gaein' till.
+--Eh, gien he wad but come oot an' shaw himsel'!--O Lord! tak
+the deevil aff o' my puir back.--O Father o' lichts! gar him tak
+the hump wi' him. I hae nae fawvour for 't, though it 's been my
+constant companion this mony a lang."
+
+But in general, he only moaned, and after the words thus heard or
+fashioned by Malcolm, lay silent and nearly still for an hour.
+
+All the waning afternoon Malcolm sat by his side, and neither
+mother, maid, nor doctor came near them.
+
+"Dark wa's an' no a breath!" he murmured or seemed to murmur again.
+"Nae gerse, nor flooers, nor bees!--I hae na room for my hump,
+an' I canna lie upo' 't, for that wad kill me!--Wull I ever ken
+whaur I cam frae?--The wine 's unco guid. Gie me a drap mair, gien
+ye please, Lady Horn.--I thought the grave was a better place.
+I hae lain safter afore I dee'd!--Phemy! Phemy! Rin, Phemy, rin!
+I s' bide wi' them this time. Ye rin, Phemy!"
+
+As it grew dark, the air turned very chill, and snow began to fall
+thick and fast. Malcolm laid a few sticks on the smouldering peat
+fire, but they were damp and did not catch. All at once the laird
+gave a shriek, and crying out, "Mither, mither!" fell into a fit
+so violent that the heavy bed shook with his convulsions. Malcolm
+held his wrists and called aloud. No one came, and bethinking himself
+that none could help, he waited in silence, for what would follow.
+
+The fit passed quickly, and he lay quiet. The sticks had meantime
+dried, and suddenly they caught fire and blazed up. The laird turned
+his face towards the flame; a smile came over it; his eyes opened
+wide, and with such an expression of seeing gazed beyond Malcolm,
+that he turned his in the same direction.
+
+"Eh, the bonny man! The bonny man!" murmured the laird.
+
+But Malcolm saw nothing, and turned again to the laird: his jaw had
+fallen, and the light was fading out of his face like the last of
+a sunset. He was dead.
+
+Malcolm rang the bell, told the woman who answered it what had taken
+place, and hurried from the house, glad at heart that his friend
+was at rest.
+
+He had ridden but a short distance when he was overtaken by a boy
+on a fast pony, who pulled up as he neared him.
+
+"Whaur are ye for?" asked Malcolm.
+
+" gaein' for Mistress Cat'nach," answered the boy.
+
+"Gang yer wa's than, an' dinna haud the deid waitin'," said Malcolm,
+with a shudder.
+
+The boy cast a look of dismay behind him, and galloped off.
+
+The snow still fell, and the night was dark. Malcolm spent nearly
+two hours on the way, and met the boy returning, who told him that
+Mrs Catanach was not to be found.
+
+His road lay down the glen, past Duncan's cottage, at whose door
+he dismounted, but he did not find him. Taking the bridle on his
+arm he walked by his horse the rest of the way. It was about nine
+o'clock, and the night very dark. As he neared the house, he heard
+Duncan's voice.
+
+"Malcolm, my son! Will it pe your own self?" it said.
+
+"It wull that, daddy," answered Malcolm.
+
+The piper was sitting on a fallen tree, with the snow settling
+softly upon him.
+
+"But it 's ower cauld for ye to be sittin' there i' the snaw, an'
+the mirk tu!" added Malcolm.
+
+"Ta tarkness will not be ketting to ta inside of her," returned
+the seer. "Ah, my poy! where ta light kets in, ta tarkness will pe
+ketting in too. Tis now, your whole pody will pe full of tarkness,
+as ta piple will say, and Tuncan's pody--tat will pe full of ta
+light." Then with suddenly changed tone he said "Listen, Malcolm,
+my son! she'll pe fery uneasy till you'll wass pe come home."
+
+"What's the maitter noo, daddy?" returned Malcolm. "Ony thing wrang
+aboot the hoose?"
+
+"Someting will pe wrong, yes, put she'll not can tell where. No,
+her pody will not pe full of light! For town here in ta curset
+Lowlands, ta sight has peen almost cone from her, my son. It will
+now pe no more as a co creeping troo' her, and she'll nefer see
+plain no more till she'll pe cone pack to her own mountains."
+
+"The puir laird's gane back to his," said Malcolm. "I won'er gien
+he kens yet, or gien he gangs speirin' at ilk ane he meets gien he
+can tell him whaur he cam frae. He's mad nae mair, ony gait."
+
+"How? Will he pe not tead? Ta poor lairt! Ta poor maad lairt!"
+
+"Ay, he's deid: maybe that's what 'll be troublin' yer sicht,
+daddy."
+
+"No, my son. Ta maad lairt was not fery maad, and if he was maad
+he was not paad, and it was not to ta plame of him; he wass coot
+always however."
+
+"He was that, daddy."
+
+"But it will pe something fery paad, and it will pe troubling her
+speerit. When she'll pe take ta pipes, to pe amusing herself, and
+will plow Till an crodh a' Dhonnachaidh (Turn the cows, Duncan),
+out will pe come Cumhadh an fhir mhoir (The Lament of the Big Man).
+All is not well, my son."
+
+"Weel, dinna distress yersel', daddy. Lat come what wull come.
+Foreseein' 's no forefen'in'. Ye ken yersel' 'at mony 's the time
+the seer has broucht the thing on by tryin' to haud it aff."
+
+"It will pe true, my son. Put it would aalways haf come."
+
+"Nae doobt; sae ye jist come in wi' me, daddy, an' sit doon by the
+ha' fire, an' I 'll come to ye as sune 's I've been to see 'at the
+maister disna want me. But ye'll better come up wi' me to my room
+first," he went on, "for the maister disna like to see me in onything
+but the kilt."
+
+"And why will he no pe in ta kilts aal as now?"
+
+"I hae been ridin', ye ken, daddy, an' the trews fits the saiddle
+better nor the kilts."
+
+"She'll not pe knowing tat. Old Allister, your creat--her own
+crandfather, was ta pest horseman ta worrlt efer saw, and he 'll
+nefer pe hafing ta trews to his own lecks nor ta saddle to his
+horse's pack. He 'll chust make his men pe strap on an old plaid,
+and he 'll pe kive a chump, and away they wass, horse and man, one
+peast, aal two of tem poth together."
+
+Thus chatting they went to the stable, and from the stable to the
+house, where they met no one, and went straight up to Malcolm's
+room--the old man making as little of the long ascent as Malcolm
+himself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVI: THE CRY FROM THE CHAMBER
+
+
+Brooding, if a man of his temperament may ever be said to brood,
+over the sad history of his young wife and the prospects of his
+daughter, the marquis rode over fields and through gates--he never
+had been one to jump a fence in cold blood--till the darkness
+began to fall; and the bearings of his perplexed position came
+plainly before him.
+
+First of all, Malcolm acknowledged, and the date of his mother's death
+known, what would Florimel be in the eyes of the world? Supposing
+the world deceived by the statement that his mother died when he
+was born, where yet was the future he had marked out for her? He
+had no money to leave her, and she must be helplessly dependent on
+her brother.
+
+Malcolm, on the other hand, might make a good match, or, with the
+advantages he could secure him, in the army, still better in the
+navy, well enough push his way in the world.
+
+Miss Horn could produce no testimony; and Mrs Catanach had asserted
+him the son of Mrs Stewart. He had seen enough, however, to make
+him dread certain possible results if Malcolm were acknowledged
+as the laird of Kirkbyres. No; there was but one hopeful measure,
+one which he had even already approached in a tentative way--
+an appeal, namely, to Malcolm himself--in which, acknowledging
+his probable rights, but representing in the strongest manner
+the difficulty of proving them, he would set forth, in their full
+dismay, the consequences to Florimel of their public recognition,
+and offer, upon the pledge of his word to a certain line of conduct,
+to start him in any path he chose to follow.
+
+Having thought the thing out pretty thoroughly, as he fancied, and
+resolved at the same time to feel his way towards negotiations with
+Mrs Catanach, he turned and rode home.
+
+After a tolerable dinner, he was sitting over a bottle of the port
+which he prized beyond anything else his succession had brought him,
+when the door of the dining room opened suddenly, and the butler
+appeared, pale with terror.
+
+"My lord! my lord!" he stammered, as he closed the door behind him.
+
+"Well? What the devil's the matter now? Whose cow's dead?"
+
+"Your lordship didn't hear it then?" faltered the butler.
+
+"You've been drinking, Bings," said the marquis, lifting his seventh
+glass of port.
+
+"I didn't say I heard it, my lord."
+
+"Heard what--in the name of Beelzebub?"
+
+"The ghost, my lord."
+
+"The what?" shouted the marquis.
+
+"That's what they call it, my lord. It's all along of having that
+wizard's chamber in the house, my lord."
+
+"You're a set of fools," said the marquis, "the whole kit of you!"
+
+"That's what I say, my lord. I don't know what to do with them,
+stericking and screaming. Mrs Courthope is trying her best with
+them; but it 's my belief she's about as bad herself."
+
+The marquis finished his glass of wine, poured out and drank another,
+then walked to the door. When the butler opened it, a strange sight
+met his eyes. All the servants in the house, men and women, Duncan
+and Malcolm alone excepted, had crowded after the butler, every one
+afraid of being left behind; and there gleamed the crowd of ghastly
+faces in the light of the great hall fire. Demon stood in front,
+his mane bristling, and his eyes flaming. Such was the silence that
+the marquis heard the low howl of the waking wind, and the snow
+like the patting of soft hands against the windows. He stood for a
+moment, more than half enjoying their terror, when from somewhere
+in the building a far off shriek, shrill and piercing, rang in
+every ear. Some of the men drew in their breath with a gasping sob,
+but most of the women screamed outright, and that set the marquis
+cursing.
+
+Duncan and Malcolm had but just entered the bedroom of the latter,
+when the shriek rent the air close beside, and for a moment deafened
+them. So agonized, so shrill, so full of dismal terror was it, that
+Malcolm stood aghast, and Duncan started to his feet with responsive
+outcry. But Malcolm at once recovered himself.
+
+"Bide here till I come back," he whispered, and hurried noiselessly
+out.
+
+In a few minutes he returned--during which all had been still.
+"Noo, daddy," he said, " gaein' to drive in the door o' the
+neist room. there's some deevilry at wark there. Stan' ye i' the
+door, an' ghaist or deevil 'at wad win by ye, grip it, an' haud on
+like Demon the dog."
+
+"She will so, she will so!" muttered Duncan in a strange tone. "Ochone!
+that she'll not pe hafing her turk with her! Ochone! Ochone!"
+
+Malcolm took the key of the wizard's chamber from his chest, and
+his candle from the table, which he set down in the passage. In a
+moment he had unlocked the door, put his shoulder to it, and burst
+it open. A light was extinguished, and a shapeless figure went
+gliding away through the gloom. It was no shadow, however, for,
+dashing itself against a door at the other side of the chamber, it
+staggered back with an imprecation of fury and fear, pressed two
+hands to its head, and, turning at bay, revealed the face of Mrs
+Catanach.
+
+In the door stood the blind piper, with outstretched arms, and
+hands ready to clutch, the fingers curved like claws, his knees
+and haunches bent, leaning forward like a rampant beast prepared
+to spring. In his face was wrath, hatred, vengeance, disgust--an
+enmity of all mingled kinds.
+
+Malcolm was busied with something in the bed, and when she turned,
+Mrs Catanach saw only the white face of hatred gleaming through
+the darkness.
+
+"Ye auld donnert deevil!" she cried, with an addition too coarse
+to be set down, and threw herself upon him.
+
+The old man said never a word, but with indrawn breath hissing
+through his clenched teeth, clutched her, and down they went together
+in the passage, the piper undermost. He had her by the throat, it
+is true, but she had her fingers in his eyes, and kneeling on his
+chest, kept him down with a vigour of hostile effort that drew the
+very picture of murder. It lasted but a moment, however, for the
+old man, spurred by torture as well as hate, gathered what survived
+of a most sinewy strength into one huge heave, threw her back into
+the room, and rose, with the blood streaming from his eyes--just
+as the marquis came round the near end of the passage, followed by
+Mrs Courthope, the butler, Stoat, and two of the footmen. Heartily
+enjoying a row, he stopped instantly, and signing a halt to his
+followers, stood listening to the mud geyser that now burst from
+Mrs Catanach's throat.
+
+"Ye blin' abortion o' Sawtan's soo!" she cried, "didna I tak ye to
+du wi' ye as I likit. An' that deil's tripe ye ca' yer oye (grandson)
+--he! he!--him yer gran'son! He's naething but ane o' yer hatit
+Cawm'ells!"
+
+"A teanga a' diabhuil mhoir, tha thu ag deanamh breug (O tongue of
+the great devil thou art making a lie)!" screamed Duncan, speaking
+for the first time.
+
+"God lay me deid i' my sins gien he be onything but a bastard
+Cawm'ell!" she asseverated with a laugh of demoniacal scorn. "Yer
+dautit (petted) Ma'colm 's naething but the dyke side brat o' the
+late Grizel Cawm'ell, 'at the fowk tuik for a sant 'cause she grat
+an' said naething. I laid the Cawm'ell pup i' yer boody (scarecrow)
+airms wi' my ain han's, upo' the tap o' yer curst scraighin' bagpipes
+'at sae aften drave the sleep frae my een. Na, ye wad nane o' me!
+But I ga'e ye a Cawm'ell bairn to yer hert for a' that, ye auld,
+hungert, weyver (spider) leggit, worm aten idiot!"
+
+A torrent of Gaelic broke from Duncan, into the midst of which
+rushed another from Mrs Catanach, similar, but coarse in vowel and
+harsh in consonant sounds.
+
+The marquis stepped into the room.
+
+"What is the meaning of all this?" he said with dignity. The tumult
+of Celtic altercation ceased. The piper drew himself up to his full
+height, and stood silent. Mrs Catanach, red as fire with exertion
+and wrath, turned ashy pale. The marquis cast on her a searching
+and significant look.
+
+"See here, my lord," said Malcolm.
+
+Candle in hand, his lordship approached the bed. The same moment
+Mrs Catanach glided out with her usual downy step, gave a wink as
+of mutual intelligence to the group at the door, and vanished.
+
+On Malcolm's arm lay the head of a young girl. Her thin, worn
+countenance was stained with tears, and livid with suffocation.
+She was recovering, but her eyes rolled stupid and visionless.
+
+"It's Phemy, my lord--Blue Peter's lassie 'at was tint," said
+Malcolm.
+
+"It begins to look serious," said the marquis. "Mrs Catanach!--
+Mrs Courthope!"
+
+He turned towards the door. Mrs Courthope entered, and a head or two
+peeped in after her. Duncan stood as before, drawn up and stately,
+his visage working, but his body motionless as the statue of a
+sentinel.
+
+"Where is the Catanach woman gone?" cried the marquis.
+
+"Cone!" shouted the piper. "Cone! and her huspant will pe waiting
+to pe killing her! Och nan ochan!"
+
+"Her husband!" echoed the marquis.
+
+"Ach! she'll not can pe helping it, my lort--no more till one
+will pe tead--and tat should pe ta woman, for she'll pe a paad
+woman--ta worstest woman efer was married, my lort."
+
+"That's saying a good deal," returned the marquis.
+
+"Not one worrt more as enough, my lort," said Duncan "She was only
+pe her next wife, put, ochone! ochone! why did she'll pe marry
+her? You would haf stapt her long aco, my lort, if she'll was your
+wife, and you was knowing the tamned fox and padger she was pe.
+Ochone! and she tidn't pe have her turk at her hench nor her sgian
+in her hose."
+
+He shook his hands like a despairing child, then stamped and wept
+in the agony of frustrated rage.
+
+Mrs Courthope took Phemy in her arms, and carried her to her own
+room, where she opened the window, and let the snowy wind blow full
+upon her. As soon as she came quite to herself Malcolm set out to
+bear the good tidings to her father and mother.
+
+Only a few nights before had Phemy been taken to the room where
+they found her. She had been carried from place to place, and had
+been some time, she believed, in Mrs Catanach's own house. They had
+always kept her in the dark, and removed her at night, blindfolded.
+When asked if she had never cried out before, she said she had been
+too frightened; and when questioned as to what had made her do so
+then, she knew nothing of it: she remembered only that a horrible
+creature appeared by the bedside, after which all was blank. On
+the floor they found a hideous death mask, doubtless the cause of
+the screams which Mrs Catanach had sought to stifle with the pillows
+and bedclothes.
+
+When Malcolm returned, he went at once to the piper's cottage, where
+he found him in bed, utterly exhausted, and as utterly restless.
+
+"Weel, daddy," he said, "I doobt I daurna come near ye noo."
+
+"Come to her arms, my poor poy!" faltered Duncan. "She'll pe sorry
+in her sore heart for her poy! Nefer you pe minding, my son; you
+couldn't help ta Cam'ell mother, and you'll pe her own poy however.
+Ochone! it will pe a plot upon you aal your tays, my son, and she'll
+not can help you, and it 'll pe preaking her old heart!"
+
+"Gien God thoucht the Cam'ells worth makin', daddy, I dinna see
+'at I hae ony richt to compleen 'at I cam' o' them."
+
+"She hopes you'll pe forgifing ta plind old man, however. She
+couldn't see, or she would haf known at once petter."
+
+"I dinna ken what ye're efter noo, daddy," said Malcolm.
+
+"That she'll do you a creat wrong, and she'll be ferry sorry for
+it, my son."
+
+"What wrang did ye ever du me, daddy?"
+
+"That she was let you crow up a Cam'ell, my poy. If she tid put know
+ta paad plood was pe in you, she wouldn't pe tone you ta wrong as
+pring you up."
+
+"That's a wrang no ill to forgi'e, daddy. But it 's a pity ye
+didna lat me lie, for maybe syne Mistress Catanach wad hae broucht
+me up hersel', an' I micht hae come to something."
+
+"Ta duvil mhor (great) would pe in your heart and prain and poosom,
+my son."
+
+"Weel, ye see what ye hae saved me frae."
+
+"Yes; put ta duvil will pe to pay, for she couldn't safe you from
+ta Cam'ell plood, my son! Malcolm, my poy," he added after a pause,
+and with the solemnity of a mighty hate, "ta efil woman herself
+will pe a Cam'ell--ta woman Catanach will pe a Cam'ell, and her
+nain sel' she'll not know it pefore she'll be in ta ped with the
+worsest Cam'ell tat ever God made--and she pecks his pardon, for
+she'll not pelieve he wass making ta Cam'ells."
+
+"Divna ye think God made me, daddy?" asked Malcolm.
+
+The old man thought for a little.
+
+"Tat will tepend on who was pe your father, my son," he replied.
+"If he too will be a Cam'ell--ochone! ochone! Put tere may pe
+some coot plood co into you, more as enough to say God will pe make
+you, my son. Put don't pe asking, Malcolm. Ton't you'll pe asking."
+
+"What am I no to ask, daddy?"
+
+"Ton't pe asking who made you--who was ta father to you, my poy.
+She would rather not pe knowing, for ta man might pe a Cam'ell
+poth. And if she couldn't pe lofing you no more, my son, she would
+pe tie pefore her time, and her tays would pe long in ta land under
+ta crass, my son."
+
+But the memory of the sweet face whose cold loveliness he had once
+kissed, was enough to outweigh with Malcolm all the prejudices of
+Duncan's instillation, and he was proud to take up even her shame.
+To pass from Mrs Stewart to her, was to escape from the clutches
+of a vampire demon to the arms of a sweet mother angel.
+
+Deeply concerned for the newly discovered misfortunes of the old
+man to whom he was indebted for this world's life at least, he
+anxiously sought to soothe him; but he had far more and far worse
+to torment him than Malcolm even yet knew, and with burning cheeks
+and bloodshot eyes, he lay tossing from side to side, now uttering
+terrible curses in Gaelic, and now weeping bitterly. Malcolm took
+his loved pipes, and with the gentlest notes he could draw from
+them tried to charm to rest the ruffled waters of his spirit; but
+his efforts were all in vain, and believing at length that he would
+be quieter without him, he went to the House, and to his own room.
+
+The door of the adjoining chamber stood open, and the long forbidden
+room lay exposed to any eye. Little did Malcolm think as he gazed
+around it, that it was the room in which he had first breathed the
+air of the world; in which his mother had wept over her own false
+position and his reported death; and from which he had been carried,
+by Duncan's wicked wife, down the ruinous stair, and away to the
+lip of the sea, to find a home in the arms of the man whom he had
+just left on his lonely couch, torn between the conflicting emotions
+of a gracious love for him, and the frightful hate of her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVII: FEET OF WOOL
+
+
+The next day, Miss Horn, punctual as Fate, presented herself at
+Lossie House, and was shown at once into the marquis's study, as
+it was called. When his lordship entered, she took the lead the
+moment the door was shut.
+
+"By this time, my lord, ye 'll doobtless hae made up yer min' to
+du what 's richt?" she said.
+
+"that's what I have always wanted to do," returned the marquis.
+
+"Hm!" remarked Miss Horn, as plainly as inarticulately.
+
+"In this affair," he supplemented; adding, "It's not always so
+easy to tell what is right!"
+
+"It's no aye easy to luik for 't wi' baith yer een," said Miss
+Horn.
+
+"This woman Catanach--we must get her to give credible testimony.
+Whatever the fact may be, we must have strong evidence. And there
+comes the difficulty, that she has already made an altogether
+different statement."
+
+"It gangs for naething, my lord. It was never made afore a justice
+o' the peace."
+
+"I wish you would go to her, and see how she is inclined."
+
+"Me gang to Bawbie Catanach!" exclaimed Miss Horn. "I wad as sune
+gang an' kittle Sawtan's nose wi' the p'int o' 's tail. Na, na, my
+lord! Gien onybody gang till her wi' my wull, it s' be a limb o'
+the law. I s' hae nae cognostin' wi' her."
+
+"You would have no objection, however, to my seeing her, I presume
+--just to let her know that we have an inkling of the truth?" said
+the marquis.
+
+Now all this was the merest talk, for of course Miss Horn could
+not long remain in ignorance of the declaration fury had, the night
+previous, forced from Mrs Catanach; but he must, he thought, put
+her off and keep her quiet, if possible, until he had come to an
+understanding with Malcolm, after which he would no doubt have his
+trouble with her.
+
+"Ye can du as yer lordship likes," answered Miss Horn; "but I wadna
+hae 't said o' me 'at I had ony dealin's wi' her. Wha kens but she
+micht say ye tried to bribe her? there's naething she wad bogle
+at gien she thoucht it worth her while. No 'at  feart at her.
+Lat her lee!  no sae blate but--! Only dinna lippen till a
+word she says, my lord."
+
+The marquis meditated.
+
+"I wonder whether the real source of my perplexity occurs to you,
+Miss Horn," he said at length. "You know I have a daughter?"
+
+"Weel eneuch that, my lord."
+
+"By my second marriage."
+
+"Nae merridge ava', my lord."
+
+"True,--if I confess to the first."
+
+"A' the same, whether or no, my lord."
+
+"Then you see," the marquis went on, refusing offence, "what the
+admission of your story would make of my daughter?"
+
+"That's plain eneuch, my lord."
+
+"Now, if I have read Malcolm right, he has too much regard for his
+--mistress--to put her in such a false position."
+
+"That is, my lord, ye wad hae yer lawfu' son beir the lawless name."
+
+"No, no; it need never come out what he is. I will provide for him
+--as a gentleman, of course."
+
+"It canna be, my lord. Ye can du naething for him wi' that face o'
+his, but oot comes the trouth as to the father o' 'im; an' it wadna
+be lang afore the tale was ekit oot wi' the name o' his mither--
+Mistress Catanach wad see to that, gien 'twas only to spite me; an'
+I wunna hae my Grizel ca'd what she is not, for ony lord's dauchter
+i' the three kynriks."
+
+"What does it matter, now she's dead and gone?" said the marquis,
+false to the dead in his love for the living.
+
+"Deid an' gane, my lord! What ca' ye deid an' gane? Maybe the great
+anes o' the yerth get sic a forlethie (surfeit) o' gran'ur 'at they
+'re for nae mair, an' wad perish like the brute beast. For onything
+I ken, they may hae their wuss, but for mysel', I wad warstle to
+haud my sowl waukin' (awake), i' the verra article o' deith, for
+the bare chance o' seein' my bonny Grizel again.--It's a mercy
+I hae nae feelin's!" she added, arresting her handkerchief on its
+way to her eyes, and refusing to acknowledge the single tear that
+ran down her cheek.
+
+Plainly she was not like any of the women whose characters the
+marquis had accepted as typical of womankind.
+
+"Then you won't leave the matter to her husband and son," he said
+reproachfully.
+
+"I tellt ye, my lord, I wad du naething but what I saw to be richt.
+Lat this affair oot o' my han's I daurna. That laad ye micht work
+to onything 'at made agane himsel'. He 's jist like his puir mither
+there."
+
+"If Miss Campbell was his mother," said the marquis.
+
+"Miss Cam'ell!" cried Miss Horn. "I 'll thank yer lordship to ca'
+her by her ain, 'an that's Lady Lossie."
+
+What if the something ruinous heart of the marquis was habitable,
+was occupied by his daughter, and had no accommodation at present
+either for his dead wife or his living son. Once more he sat thinking
+in silence for a while.
+
+"I'll make Malcolm a post captain in the navy, and give you a
+thousand pounds," he said at length, hardly knowing that he spoke.
+
+Miss Horn rose to her full height, and stood like an angel of
+rebuke before him. Not a word did she speak, only looked at him
+for a moment, and turned to leave the room. The marquis saw his
+danger, and striding to the door, stood with his back against it.
+
+"Think ye to scare me, my lord?" she asked, with a scornful laugh.
+"Gang an' scare the stane lion beast at yer ha' door. Haud oot o'
+the gait, an' lat me gang."
+
+"Not until I know what you are going to do," said the marquis, very
+seriously.
+
+"I hae naething mair to transac' wi' yer lordship. You an' me 's
+strangers, my lord."
+
+"Tut! tut! I was but trying you."
+
+"An' gien I had taen the disgrace ye offert me, ye wad hae drawn
+back?"
+
+"No, certainly."
+
+"Ye wasna tryin' me than: ye was duin' yer best to corrup' me."
+
+" no splitter of hairs."
+
+"My lord, it 's nane but the corrup'ible wad seek to corrup'."
+
+The marquis gnawed a nail or two in silence. Miss Horn dragged an
+easy chair within a couple of yards of him.
+
+"we'll see wha tires o' this ghem first, my lord!" she said, as
+she sank into its hospitable embrace.
+
+The marquis turned to lock the door, but there was no key in it.
+Neither was there any chair within reach, and he was not fond of
+standing. Clearly his enemy had the advantage.
+
+"Hae ye h'ard o' puir Sandy Graham--hoo they're misguidin' him,
+my lord?" she asked with composure.
+
+The marquis was first astounded, and then tickled by her assurance.
+
+"No," he answered.
+
+"They hae turnt him oot o' hoose an' ha'--schuil, at least, an'
+hame," she rejoined. "I may say, they hae turnt him oot o' Scotlan';
+for what presbytery wad hae him efter he had been fun' guilty o' no
+thinkin' like ither fowk? Ye maun stan' his guid freen', my lord."
+
+"He shall be Malcolm's tutor," answered the marquis, not to be
+outdone in coolness, "and go with him to Edinburgh--or Oxford,
+if he prefers it."
+
+"Never yerl o' Colonsay had a better!" said Miss Horn.
+
+"Softly, softly, ma'am!" returned the marquis. "I did not say he
+should go in that style."
+
+"He s' gang as my lord o' Colonsay, or he s' no gang at your expense,
+my lord," said his antagonist.
+
+"Really, ma'am, one would think you were my grandmother, to hear
+you order my affairs for me."
+
+"I wuss I war, my lord: I sud gar ye hear rizzon upo' baith sides
+o' yer heid, I s' warran'!"
+
+The marquis laughed.
+
+"Well, I can't stand here all day!" he said, impatiently swinging
+one leg.
+
+" weel awaur o' that, my lord," answered Miss Horn, rearranging
+her scanty skirt.
+
+"How long are ye going to keep me, then?"
+
+"I wadna hae ye bide a meenute langer nor 's agreeable to yersel'.
+But  in nae hurry sae lang 's ye're afore me. ye're nae ill
+to luik at--though ye maun hae been bonnier the day ye wan the
+hert o' my Grizzel."
+
+The marquis uttered an oath, and left the door. Miss Horn sprang
+to it; but there was the marquis again.
+
+"Miss Horn," he said, "I beg you will give me another day to think
+of this."
+
+"Whaur's the use? A' the thinkin' i' the warl' canna alter a single
+fac'. Ye maun du richt by my laddie o' yer ain sel', or I maun gar
+ye."
+
+"You would find a lawsuit heavy, Miss Horn."
+
+"An' ye wad fin' the scandal o' 't ill to bide, my lord. It wad
+come sair upo' Miss--I kenna what name she has a richt till, my
+lord."
+
+The marquis uttered a frightful imprecation, left the door, and
+sitting down, hid his face in his hands.
+
+Miss Horn rose, but instead of securing her retreat, approached
+him gently, and stood by his side.
+
+"My lord," she said, "I canna thole to see a man in tribble. Women
+'s born till 't, an' they tak it, an' are thankfu'; but a man never
+gies in till 't, an' sae it comes harder upo' him nor upo' them.
+Hear me, my lord: gien there be a man upo' this earth wha wad shield
+a wuman, that man 's Ma'colm Colonsay."
+
+"If only she weren't his sister!" murmured the marquis.
+
+"An' jist bethink ye, my lord: wad it be onything less nor an
+imposition to lat a man merry her ohn tellt him what she was?"
+
+"You insolent old woman!" cried the marquis, losing his temper,
+discretion, and manners, all together. "Go and do your worst, and
+be damned to you!"
+
+So saying, he left the room, and Miss Horn found her way out of the
+house in a temper quite as fierce as his,--in character, however,
+entirely different, inasmuch as it was righteous.
+
+At that very moment Malcolm was in search of his master; and seeing
+the back of him disappear in the library, to which he had gone in
+a half blind rage, he followed him. "My lord!" he said.
+
+"What do you want?" returned his master in a rage. For some time
+he had been hauling on the curb rein, which had fretted his temper
+the more; and when he let go, the devil ran away with him.
+
+"I thoucht yer lordship wad like to see an auld stair I cam upo'
+the ither day, 'at gang's frae the wizard's chaumer."
+
+"Go to hell with your damned tomfoolery!" said the marquis. "If ever
+you mention that cursed hole again, I'll kick you out of the house."
+
+Malcolm's eyes flashed, and a fierce answer rose to his lips, but
+he had seen that his master was in trouble, and sympathy supplanted
+rage. He turned and left the room in silence.
+
+Lord Lossie paced up and down the library for a whole hour--a
+long time for him to be in one mood. The mood changed colour pretty
+frequently during the hour, however, and by degrees his wrath
+assuaged. But at the end of it he knew no more what he was going to
+do than when he left Miss Horn in the study. Then came the gnawing
+of his usual ennui and restlessness: he must find something to do.
+
+The thing he always thought of first was a ride; but the only
+animal of horse kind about the place which he liked was the bay
+mare, and her he had lamed. He would go and see what the rascal
+had come bothering about--alone though, for he could not endure
+the sight of the fisher fellow--damn him!
+
+In a few moments he stood in the wizard's chamber, and glanced round
+it with a feeling of discomfort rather than sorrow--of annoyance
+at the trouble of which it had been for him both fountain and
+storehouse, rather than regret for the agony and contempt which
+his selfishness had brought upon the woman he loved; then spying
+the door in the furthest corner, he made for it, and in a moment
+more, his curiosity, now thoroughly roused, was slowly gyrating
+down the steps of the old screw stair. But Malcolm had gone to his
+own room, and hearing some one in the next, half suspected who it
+was, and went in. Seeing the closet door open, he hurried to the
+stair, and shouted, "My lord! my lord! or whaever ye are! tak care
+hoo ye gang, or ye'll get a terrible fa'."
+
+Down a single yard the stair was quite dark, and he dared not follow
+fast for fear of himself falling and occasioning the accident he
+feared. As he descended, he kept repeating his warnings, but either
+his master did not hear or heeded too little, for presently Malcolm
+heard a rush, a dull fall, and a groan. Hurrying as fast as he
+dared with the risk of falling upon him, he found the marquis lying
+amongst the stones in the ground entrance, apparently unable to
+move, and white with pain. Presently, however, he got up, swore a
+good deal, and limped swearing into the house.
+
+The doctor, who was sent for instantly pronounced the knee cap
+injured, and applied leeches. Inflammation set in, and another
+doctor and surgeon were sent for from Aberdeen. They came; applied
+poultices, and again leeches, and enjoined the strictest repose.
+The pain was severe; but to one of the marquis's temperament, the
+enforced quiet was worse.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVIII: HANDS OF IRON
+
+
+The marquis was loved by his domestics; and his accident, with its
+consequences, although none more serious were anticipated, cast a
+gloom over Lossie House. Far apart as was his chamber from all the
+centres of domestic life, the pulses of his suffering beat as it
+were through the house, and the servants moved with hushed voice
+and gentle footfall.
+
+Outside, the course of events waited upon his recovery, for Miss
+Horn was too generous not to delay proceedings while her adversary
+was ill. Besides, what she most of all desired was the marquis's
+free acknowledgment of his son; and after such a time of suffering
+and constrained reflection as he was now passing through, he could
+hardly fail, she thought, to be more inclined to what was just and
+fair.
+
+Malcolm had of course hastened to the schoolmaster with the joy of
+his deliverance from Mrs Stewart; but Mr Graham had not acquainted
+him with the discovery Miss Horn had made, or her belief concerning
+his large interest therein, to which Malcolm's report of the wrath
+born declaration of Mrs Catanach had now supplied the only testimony
+wanting, for the right of disclosure was Miss Horn's. To her he had
+carried Malcolm's narrative of late events, tenfold strengthening
+her position; but she was anxious in her turn that the revelation
+concerning his birth should come to him from his father. Hence
+Malcolm continued in ignorance of the strange dawn that had begun
+to break on the darkness of his origin.
+
+Miss Horn had told Mr Graham what the marquis had said about the
+tutorship; but the schoolmaster only shook his head with a smile,
+and went on with his preparations for departure.
+
+The hours went by; the days lengthened into weeks, and the marquis's
+condition did not improve. He had never known sickness and pain
+before, and like most of the children of this world, counted them
+the greatest of evils; nor was there any sign of their having as yet
+begun to open his eyes to what those who have seen them call truths,
+those who have never even boded their presence count absurdities.
+
+More and more, however, he desired the attendance of Malcolm, who
+was consequently a great deal about him, serving with a love to
+account for which those who knew his nature would not have found
+it necessary to fall back on the instinct of the relation between
+them. The marquis had soon satisfied himself that that relation
+was as yet unknown to him, and was all the better pleased with his
+devotion and tenderness.
+
+The inflammation continued, increased, spread, and at length the
+doctors determined to amputate. But the marquis was absolutely
+horrified at the idea,--shrank from it with invincible repugnance.
+The moment the first dawn of comprehension vaguely illuminated
+their periphrastic approaches, he blazed out in a fury, cursed them
+frightfully, called them all the contemptuous names in his rather
+limited vocabulary, and swore he would see them--uncomfortable
+first.
+
+"We fear mortification, my lord," said the physician calmly.
+
+"So do I. Keep it off," returned the marquis.
+
+"We fear we cannot, my lord."
+
+It had, in fact, already commenced.
+
+"Let it mortify, then, and be damned," said his lordship.
+
+"I trust, my lord, you will reconsider it," said the surgeon. "We
+should not have dreamed of suggesting a measure of such severity
+had we not had reason to dread that the further prosecution of
+gentler means would but lessen your lordship's chance of recovery."
+
+"You mean then that my life is in danger?"
+
+"We fear," said the physician, "that the amputation proposed is
+the only thing that can save it."
+
+"What a brace of blasted bunglers you are!" cried the marquis,
+and turning away his face, lay silent. The two men looked at each
+other, and said nothing.
+
+Malcolm was by, and a keen pang shot to his heart at the verdict.
+The men retired to consult. Malcolm approached the bed.
+
+"My lord!" he said gently.
+
+No reply came.
+
+"Dinna lea 's oor lanes, my lord--no yet," Malcolm persisted.
+"What 's to come o' my leddy?"
+
+The marquis gave a gasp. Still he made no reply.
+
+"She has naebody, ye ken, my lord, 'at ye wad like to lippen her
+wi'."
+
+"You must take care of her when I am gone, Malcolm,' murmured the
+marquis; and his voice was now gentle with sadness and broken with
+misery.
+
+"Me, my lord!" returned Malcolm. "Wha wad min' me? An' what cud
+I du wi' her? I cudna even haud her ohn wat her feet. Her leddy's
+maid cud du mair wi' her--though I wad lay doon my life for her,
+as I tauld ye, my lord--an' she kens 't weel eneuch."
+
+Silence followed. Both men were thinking.
+
+"Gie me a richt, my lord, an' I'll du my best," said Malcolm, at
+length breaking the silence.
+
+"What do you mean?" growled the marquis, whose mood had altered.
+
+"Gie me a legal richt, my lord, an' see gien I dinna."
+
+"See what?"
+
+"See gien I dinna luik weel efter my leddy."
+
+"How am I to see? I shall be dead and damned."
+
+"Please God, my lord, ye'll be alive an' weel--in a better place,
+if no here to luik efter my leddy yersel'."
+
+"Oh, I dare say!" muttered the marquis.
+
+"But ye'll hearken to the doctors, my lord," Malcolm went on, "an'
+no dee wantin' time to consider o' 't."
+
+"Yes, yes; tomorrow I'll have another talk with them. We'll see
+about it. There's time enough yet. They're all cox combs--every
+one of them. They never give a patient the least credit for common
+sense."
+
+"I dinna ken, my lord," said Malcolm doubtfully.
+
+After a few minutes' silence, during which Malcolm thought he had
+fallen asleep, the marquis resumed abruptly.
+
+"What do you mean by giving you a legal right?" he said.
+
+"There's some w'y o' makin' ae body guairdian till anither, sae
+'at the law 'ill uphaud him--isna there, my lord?"
+
+"Yes, surely. Well!--Rather odd--wouldn't it be?--A young
+fisher lad guardian to a marchioness! Eh? They say there's nothing
+new under the sun; but that sounds rather like it, I think."
+
+Malcolm was overjoyed to hear him speak with something like his old
+manner. He felt he could stand any amount of chaff from him now,
+and so the proposition he had made in seriousness, he went on
+to defend in the hope of giving amusement, yet with a secret wild
+delight in the dream of such full devotion to the service of Lady
+Florimel.
+
+"It wad soon' queer eneuch, my lord, nae doobt; but fowk maunna min'
+the soon' o' a thing gien 't be a' straucht an' fair, an' strong
+eneuch to stan'. They cudna lauch me oot o' my richts, be they 'at
+they likit--Lady Bellair, or ony o' them--na, nor jaw me oot
+o' them aither!"
+
+"They might do a good deal to render those rights of little use,"
+said the marquis.
+
+"That wad come till a trial o' brains, my lord," returned Malcolm;
+"an' ye dinna think I wadna hae the wit to speir advice--an'
+what's mair, to ken whan it was guid, an' tak it! There's lawyers,
+my lord."
+
+"And their expenses?"
+
+"Ye cud lea' sae muckle to be waured (spent) upo' the cairryin'
+oot o' yer lordship's wull."
+
+"Who would see that you applied it properly?"
+
+"My ain conscience, my lord--or Mr Graham, gien ye likit."
+
+"And how would you live yourself?"
+
+"Ow! lea' ye that to me, my lord. Only dinna imaigine I wad be
+behauden to yer lordship. I houp I hae mair pride nor that. Ilka
+poun' not', shillin', an' baubee sud be laid oot for her, an' what
+was left hainet (saved) for her."
+
+"By Jove! it 's a daring proposal!" said the marquis; and, which
+seemed strange to Malcolm, not a single thread of ridicule ran
+through the tone in which he made the remark.
+
+The next day came, but brought neither strength of body nor of mind
+with it. Again his professional attendants besought him, and he heard
+them more quietly, but rejected their proposition as positively as
+before. In a day or two he ceased to oppose it, but would not hear
+of preparation. Hour glided into hour, and days had gathered to a
+week, when they assailed him with a solemn and last appeal.
+
+"Nonsense!" answered the marquis. "My leg is getting better. I
+feel no pain--in fact nothing but a little faintness. Your damned
+medicines, I haven't a doubt."
+
+"You are in the greatest danger, my lord. It is all but too late
+even now."
+
+"Tomorrow, then--if it must be. Today I could not endure to have
+my hair cut--positively; and as to having my leg off,--pooh!
+the thing's preposterous!"
+
+He turned white and shuddered, for all the nonchalance of his
+speech.
+
+When tomorrow came, there was not a surgeon in the land who would
+have taken his leg off. He looked in their faces, and seemed for
+the first time convinced of the necessity of the measure.
+
+"You may do as you please," he said. "I am ready."
+
+"Not today, my lord," replied the doctor. "Your lordship is not
+equal to it today."
+
+"I understand," said the marquis, paled frightfully, and turned
+his head aside.
+
+When Mrs Courthope suggested that Lady Florimel should be sent
+for, he flew into a frightful rage, and spoke as it is to be hoped
+he had never spoken to a woman before. She took it with perfect
+gentleness, but could not repress a tear. The marquis saw it, and
+his heart was touched.
+
+"You mustn't mind a dying man's temper," he said.
+
+"It's not for myself, my lord," she answered.
+
+"I know: you think  not fit to die; and, damn it! you are right.
+Never one was less fit for heaven, or less willing to go to hell."
+
+"Wouldn't you like to see a clergyman, my lord?" she suggested,
+sobbing.
+
+He was on the point of breaking out in a still worse passion, but
+controlled himself.
+
+"A clergyman!" he cried; "I would as soon see the undertaker. What
+could he do but tell me I was going to be damned--a fact I know
+better than he can? That is, if it 's not all an invention of the
+cloth, as, in my soul, I believe it is! I've said so any time this
+forty years."
+
+"Oh, my lord, my lord! do not fling away your last hope."
+
+"You imagine me to have a chance then? Good soul! You don't know
+better!"
+
+"The Lord is merciful."
+
+The marquis laughed--that is, he tried, failed, and grinned.
+
+"Mr Cairns is in the dining room, my lord."
+
+"Bah! A low pettifogger, with the soul of a bullock! Don't let me
+hear the fellow's name. I've been bad enough, God knows! but I
+haven't sunk to the level of his help yet. If he 's God Almighty's
+factor, and the saw holds--'Like master, like man!' well, I would
+rather have nothing to do with either."
+
+"That is, if you had the choice, my lord," said Mrs Courthope, her
+temper yielding a little, though in truth his speech was not half
+so irreverent as it seemed to her.
+
+"Tell him to go to hell. No, don't: set him down to a bottle of port
+and a great sponge cake and you needn't tell him to go to heaven,
+for he 'll be there already. Why, Mrs Courthope, the fellow isn't
+a gentleman! And yet all he cares for the cloth is, that he thinks
+it makes a gentleman of him--as if anything in heaven, earth, or
+hell could work that miracle!"
+
+In the middle of the night, as Malcolm sat by his bed, thinking
+him asleep, the marquis spoke suddenly.
+
+"You must go to Aberdeen tomorrow, Malcolm," he said.
+
+"Verra weel, my lord."
+
+"And bring Mr Glennie, the lawyer, back with you."
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"Go to bed then."
+
+"I wad raither bide, my lord. I cudna sleep a wink for wantin' to
+be back aside ye."
+
+The marquis yielded, and Malcolm sat by him all the night through.
+He tossed about, would doze off and murmur strangely, then wake
+up and ask for brandy and water, yet be content with the lemonade
+Malcolm gave him.
+
+Next day he quarrelled with every word Mrs Courthope uttered, kept
+forgetting he had sent Malcolm away, and was continually wanting
+him. His fits of pain were more severe, alternated with drowsiness,
+which deepened at times to stupor.
+
+It was late before Malcolm returned. He went instantly to his
+bedside.
+
+"Is Mr Glennie with you?" asked his master feebly.
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"Tell him to come here at once."
+
+When Malcolm returned with the lawyer, the marquis directed him
+to set a table and chair by the bedside, light four candles, get
+everything necessary for writing, and go to bed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIX: THE MARQUIS AND THE SCHOOLMASTER
+
+
+Before Malcolm was awake, his lordship had sent for him. When he
+re-entered the sick chamber, Mr Glennie had vanished, the table
+had been removed, and instead of the radiance of the wax lights,
+the cold gleam of a vapour dimmed sun, with its sickly blue white
+reflex from the wide spread snow, filled the room. The marquis
+looked ghastly, but was sipping chocolate with a spoon.
+
+"What w'y are ye the day, my lord?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"Nearly well," he answered; "but those cursed carrion crows are
+set upon killing me--damn their souls!"
+
+"We'll hae Leddy Florimel sweirin' awfu', gien ye gang on that
+gait, my lord," said Malcolm.
+
+The marquis laughed feebly.
+
+"An' what 's mair," Malcolm continued, "I doobt they're some
+partic'lar aboot the turn o' their phrases up yonner, my lord."
+
+The marquis looked at him keenly.
+
+"You don't anticipate that inconvenience for me?" he said. "
+pretty sure to have my billet where they're not so precise."
+
+"Dinna brak my hert, my lord!" cried Malcolm, the tears rushing to
+his eyes.
+
+"I should be sorry to hurt you, Malcolm," rejoined the marquis gently,
+almost tenderly. "I won't go there if I can help it. I shouldn't
+like to break any more hearts. But how the devil am I to keep out
+of it? Besides, there are people up there I don't want to meet; I
+have no fancy for being made ashamed of myself. The fact is I'm
+not fit for such company, and I don't believe there is any such
+place. But if there be, I trust in God there isn't any other, or it
+will go badly with your poor master, Malcolm. It doesn't look like
+true--now does it? Only such a multitude of things I thought I
+had done with for ever, keep coming up and grinning at me! It nearly
+drives me mad, Malcolm--and I would fain die like a gentleman,
+with a cool bow and a sharp face about."
+
+"Wadna ye hae a word wi' somebody 'at kens, my lord?" said Malcolm,
+scarcely able to reply.
+
+"No," answered the marquis fiercely. "That Cairns is a fool."
+
+"He's a' that an' mair, my lord. I didna mean him."
+
+"they're all fools together.'
+
+"Ow, na, my lord! there's a heap o' them no muckle better, it may
+be; but there's guid men an' true amang them, or the kirk wad hae
+been wi' Sodom and Gomorrha by this time. But it 's no a minister
+I wad hae yer lordship confar wi'."
+
+"Who then? Mrs Courthope? Eh?"
+
+"Ow na, my lord--no Mistress Coorthoup! she's a guid body, but
+she wadna believe her ain een gien onybody ca'd a minister said
+contrar' to them."
+
+"Who the devil do you mean then?"
+
+"Nae deevil, but an honest man 'at 's been his warst enemy sae lang
+'s I hae kent him: Maister Graham, the schuilmaister."
+
+"Pooh!" said the marquis with a puff. " too old to go to school."
+
+"I dinna ken the man 'at isna a bairn till him, my lord."
+
+"In Greek and Latin?"
+
+"I' richteousness an' trouth, my lord; in what's been an' what is
+to be."
+
+"What! has he the second sicht, like the piper?"
+
+"He has the second sicht, my lord--but ane 'at gangs a sicht
+farther than my auld daddy's."
+
+"He could tell me then what's going to become of me?'
+
+"As weel 's ony man, my lord."
+
+"that's not saying much, I fear."
+
+"Maybe mair nor ye think, my lord."
+
+"Well, take him my compliments, and tell him I should like to see
+him," said the marquis, after a pause.
+
+"He 'll come direckly, my lord."
+
+"Of course he will!" said the marquis.
+
+"Jist as readily, my lord, as he wad gang to ony tramp 'at sent
+for 'im at sic a time," returned Malcolm, who did not relish either
+the remark or its tone.
+
+"What do you mean by that? You don't think it such a serious affair
+--do you?"
+
+"My lord, ye haena a chance."
+
+The marquis was dumb. He had actually begun once more to buoy
+himself up with earthly hopes.
+
+Dreading a recall of his commission, Malcolm slipped from the room,
+sent Mrs Courthope to take his place, and sped to the schoolmaster.
+The moment Mr Graham heard the marquis's message, he rose without
+a word, and led the way from the cottage. Hardly a sentence passed
+between them as they went, for they were on a solemn errand.
+
+"Mr Graham 's here, my lord," said Malcolm.
+
+"Where? Not in the room?" returned the marquis.
+
+"Waitin' at the door, my lord."
+
+"Bah! You needn't have been so ready. Have you told the sexton to
+get a new spade? But you may let him in. And leave him alone with
+me."
+
+Mr Graham walked gently up to the bedside.
+
+"Sit down, sir," said the marquis courteously--pleased with the
+calm, self possessed, unobtrusive bearing of the man. "They tell
+me  dying, Mr Graham."
+
+" sorry it seems to trouble you, my lord."
+
+"What! wouldn't it trouble you then?"
+
+"I don't think so, my lord."
+
+"Ah! you're one of the elect, no doubt?"
+
+"That's a thing I never did think about, my lord."
+
+"What do you think about then?"
+
+"About God."
+
+"And when you die you'll go straight to heaven of course--"
+
+"I don't know, my lord. that's another thing I never trouble my
+head about."
+
+"Ah! you 're like me then! I don't care much about going to heaven!
+What do you care about?"
+
+"The will of God. I hope your lordship will say the same."
+
+"No I won't. I want my own will."
+
+"Well, that is to be had, my lord."
+
+"How?"
+
+"By taking his for yours, as the better of the two, which it must
+be every way."
+
+"That's all moonshine."
+
+"It is light, my lord."
+
+"Well, I don't mind confessing, if I am to die, I should prefer
+heaven to the other place; but I trust I have no chance of either.
+Do you now honestly believe there are two such places?"
+
+"I don't know, my lord."
+
+"You don't know! And you come here to comfort a dying man!"
+
+"Your lordship must first tell me what you mean by 'two such places.'
+And as to comfort, going by my notions, I cannot tell which you
+would be more or less comfortable in; and that, I presume, would
+be the main point with your lordship."
+
+"And what, pray, sir, would be the main point with you?"
+
+"To get nearer to God."
+
+"Well--I can't say I want to get nearer to God. It's little he
+'s ever done for me."
+
+"It's a good deal he has tried to do for you, my lord."
+
+"Well, who interfered? Who stood in his way, then?"
+
+"Yourself, my lord."
+
+"I wasn't aware of it. When did he ever try to do anything for me,
+and I stood in his way?"
+
+"When he gave you one of the loveliest of women, my lord," said Mr
+Graham, with solemn, faltering voice, "and you left her to die in
+neglect, and the child to be brought up by strangers."
+
+The marquis gave a cry. The unexpected answer had roused the slowly
+gnawing death, and made it bite deeper.
+
+"What have you to do," he almost screamed, "with my affairs? It
+was for me to introduce what I chose of them. You presume."
+
+"Pardon me, my lord: you led me to what I was bound to say. Shall
+I leave you, my lord?"
+
+The marquis made no answer.
+
+"God knows I loved her," he said after a while, with a sigh.
+
+"You loved her, my lord!"
+
+"I did, by God!"
+
+"Love a woman like that, and come to this?"
+
+"Come to this! We must all come to this, I fancy, sooner or later.
+Come to what, in the name of Beelzebub?"
+
+"That, having loved a woman like her, you are content to lose her.
+In the name of God, have you no desire to see her again?"
+
+"It would be an awkward meeting," said the marquis. His was an old
+love, alas! He had not been capable of the sort that defies change.
+It had faded from him until it seemed one of the things that are
+not! Although his being had once glowed in its light, he could now
+speak of a meeting as awkward!
+
+"Because you wronged her?" suggested the schoolmaster.
+
+"Because they lied to me, by God!"
+
+"Which they dared not have done, had you not lied to them first."
+
+"Sir!" shouted the marquis, with all the voice he had left. "O God,
+have mercy! I cannot punish the scoundrel."
+
+"The scoundrel is the man who lies, my lord."
+
+"Were I anywhere else--"
+
+"There would be no good in telling you the truth, my lord. You
+showed her to the world as a woman over whom you had prevailed,
+and not as the honest wife she was. What kind of a lie was that,
+my lord? Not a white one, surely?"
+
+"You are a damned coward to speak so to a man who cannot even turn
+on his side to curse you for a base hound. You would not dare it
+but that you know I cannot defend myself."
+
+"You are right, my lord; your conduct is indefensible."
+
+"By heaven! if I could but get this cursed leg under me, I would
+throw you out of the window."
+
+"I shall go by the door, my lord. While you hold by your sins, your
+sins will hold by you. If you should want me again, I shall be at
+your lordship's command."
+
+He rose and left the room, but had not reached his cottage before
+Malcolm overtook him, with a second message from his master. He
+turned at once, saying only, "I expected it."
+
+"Mr Graham," said the marquis, looking ghastly, "you must have
+patience with a dying man. I was very rude to you, but I was in
+horrible pain."
+
+"Don't mention it, my lord. It would be a poor friendship that gave
+way for a rough word."
+
+"How can you call yourself my friend?"
+
+"I should be your friend, my lord, if it were only for your wife's
+sake. She died loving you. I want to send you to her, my lord. You
+will allow that, as a gentleman, you at least owe her an apology."
+
+"By Jove, you are right, sir! Then you really and positively believe
+in the place they call heaven?"
+
+"My lord, I believe that those who open their hearts to the truth,
+shall see the light on their friends' faces again, and be able to
+set right what was wrong between them."
+
+"It's a week too late to talk of setting right!"
+
+"Go and tell her you are sorry, my lord,--that will be enough to
+her."
+
+"Ah! but there's more than her concerned."
+
+"You are right, my lord. There is another--one who cannot
+be satisfied that the fairest works of his hands, or rather the
+loveliest children of his heart, should be treated as you have
+treated women."
+
+"But the Deity you talk of--"
+
+"I beg your pardon, my lord: I talked of no deity; I talked of
+a living Love that gave us birth and calls us his children. Your
+deity I know nothing of."
+
+"Call him what you please: he won't be put off so easily!"
+
+"He won't be put off one jot or one tittle. He will forgive anything,
+but he will pass nothing. Will your wife forgive you?"
+
+"She will--when I explain."
+
+"Then why should you think the forgiveness of God, which created
+her forgiveness, should be less?"
+
+Whether the marquis could grasp the reasoning, may be doubtful.
+
+"Do you really suppose God cares whether a man comes to good or
+ill?"
+
+"If he did not, he could not be good himself."
+
+"Then you don't think a good God would care to punish poor wretches
+like us?"
+
+"Your lordship has not been in the habit of regarding himself as
+a poor wretch. And, remember, you can't call a child a poor wretch
+without insulting the father of it."
+
+"That's quite another thing."
+
+"But on the wrong side for your argument--seeing the relation
+between God and the poorest creature is infinitely closer than that
+between any father and his child."
+
+"Then he can't be so hard on him as the parsons say."
+
+"He will give him absolute justice, which is the only good thing.
+He will spare nothing to bring his children back to himself--
+their sole well being. What would you do, my lord, if you saw your
+son strike a woman?"
+
+"Knock him down and horsewhip him."
+
+It was Mr Graham who broke the silence that followed.
+
+"Are you satisfied with yourself, my lord?"
+
+"No, by God!"
+
+"You would like to be better?"
+
+"I would."
+
+"Then you are of the same mind with God."
+
+"Yes but  not a fool! It won't do to say I should like to be:
+I must be it, and that's not so easy. It's damned hard to be good.
+I would have a fight for it, but there's no time. How is a poor
+devil to get out of such an infernal scrape?"
+
+"Keep the commandments."
+
+"That's it, of course; but there's no time, I tell you--at least
+so those cursed doctors will keep telling me."
+
+"If there were but time to draw another breath, there would be time
+to begin."
+
+"How am I to begin? Which am I to begin with?"
+
+"There is one commandment which includes all the rest."
+
+"Which is that?"
+
+"To believe on the Lord Jesus Christ."
+
+"That's cant."
+
+"After thirty years' trial of it, it is to me the essence of
+wisdom. It has given me a peace which makes life or death all but
+indifferent to me, though I would choose the latter."
+
+"What am I to believe about him then?"
+
+"You are to believe in him, not about him."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"He is our Lord and Master, Elder Brother, King, Saviour, the
+divine Man, the human God: to believe in him is to give ourselves
+up to him in obedience, to search out his will and do it."
+
+"But there's no time, I tell you again," the marquis almost shrieked.
+
+"And I tell you, there is all eternity to do it in. Take him for
+your master, and he will demand nothing of you which you are not able
+to perform. This is the open door to bliss. With your last breath
+you can cry to him, and he will hear you, as he heard the thief
+on the cross who cried to him dying beside him. 'Lord, remember me
+when thou comest into thy kingdom.' 'Today shalt thou be with me
+in paradise.' It makes my heart swell to think of it, my lord! No
+cross questioning of the poor fellow! No preaching to him! He just
+took him with him where he was going, to make a man of him."
+
+"Well, you know something of my history: what would you have me do
+now? At once, I mean. What would the person you speak of have me
+do?"
+
+"That is not for me to say, my lord."
+
+"You could give me a hint."
+
+"No. God is telling you himself. For me to presume to tell you,
+would be to interfere with him. What he would have a man do, he
+lets him know in his mind."
+
+"But what if I had not made up my mind before the last came?"
+
+"Then I fear he would say to you--'Depart from me, thou worker
+of iniquity.'"
+
+"That would be hard when another minute might have done it."
+
+"If another minute would have done it, you would have had it."
+
+A paroxysm of pain followed, during which Mr Graham silently left
+him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXX: END OR BEGINNING?
+
+
+When the fit was over, and he found Mr Graham was gone, he asked
+Malcolm, who had resumed his watch, how long it would take Lady
+Florimel to come from Edinburgh.
+
+"Mr Crathie left wi' fower horses frae the Lossie Airms last nicht,
+my lord," said Malcolm; "but the ro'ds are ill, an' she winna be
+here afore sometime the morn."
+
+The marquis stared aghast: they had sent for her without his orders.
+
+"What shall I do?" he murmured. "If once I look in her eyes, I
+shall be damned. Malcolm!"
+
+"Yes, my lord!"
+
+"Is there a lawyer in Portlossie?"
+
+"Yes, my lord; there's auld Maister Carmichael."
+
+"He won't do! He was my brother's rascal. Is there no one besides?"
+
+"No in Portlossie, my lord. There can be nane nearer than Duff
+Harbour, I doobt."
+
+"Take the chariot and bring him here directly. Tell them to put
+four horses to. Stokes can ride one."
+
+"I'll ride the ither, my lord."
+
+"You'll do nothing of the kind: you're not used to the pole."
+
+"I can tak the leader, my lord."
+
+"I tell you you're to do nothing of the kind!" cried the marquis
+angrily. "You're to ride inside, and bring Mr--what's his name?
+back with you."
+
+"Soutar, my lord, gien ye please."
+
+"Be off, then. Don't wait to feed. The brutes have been eating all
+day, and they can eat all night. You must have him here in an hour."
+
+In an hour and a quarter, Miss Horn's friend stood by the marquis's
+bedside. Malcolm was dismissed, but was presently summoned again
+to receive more orders.
+
+Fresh horses were put to the chariot, and he had to set out once
+more--this time to fetch a justice of the peace, a neighbour
+laird. The distance was greater than to Duff Harbour; the roads
+were worse; the north wind, rising as they went, blew against them
+as they returned, increasing to a violent gale; and it was late
+before they reached Lossie House.
+
+When Malcolm entered, he found the marquis alone.
+
+"Is Morrison here at last?" he cried in a feeble, irritated voice.
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+"What the devil kept you so long? The bay mare would have carried
+me there and back in an hour and a half."
+
+"The roads war verra heavy, my lord. An' jist hear till the win'!"
+
+The marquis listened a moment, and a frightened expression grew
+over his thin, pale, anxious face.
+
+"You don't know what depends on it," he said, "or you would have
+driven better. Where is Mr Soutar?"
+
+"I dinna ken, my lord.  only jist come, an' I've seen naebody."
+
+"Go and tell Mrs Courthope I want Soutar. You'll find her crying
+somewhere--the old chicken! because I swore at her. What harm
+could that do the old goose?"
+
+"It'll be mair for love o' yer lordship than fricht at the sweirin',
+my lord."
+
+"You think so? Why should she care? Go and tell her  sorry.
+But really she ought to be used to me by this time! Tell her to
+send Soutar directly."
+
+Mr Soutar was not to be found, the fact being that he had gone to
+see Miss Horn. The marquis flew into an awful rage, and began to
+curse and swear frightfully.
+
+"My lord! my lord!" said Malcolm, "for God's sake, dinna gang on
+that gait. He canna like to hear that kin' o' speech--an' frae
+ane o' his ain tu!"
+
+The marquis stopped, aghast at his presumption, and choking with
+rage; but Malcolm's eyes filled with tears, and instead of breaking
+out again, his master turned his head away and was silent.
+
+Mr Soutar came.
+
+"Fetch Morrison," said the marquis, "and go to bed."
+
+The wind howled terribly as Malcolm ascended the stairs and half
+felt his way, for he had no candle, through the long passages leading
+to his room. As he entered the last, a huge vague form came down
+upon him, like a deeper darkness through the dark. Instinctively
+he stepped aside. It passed noiselessly, with a long stride, and
+not even a rustle of its garments--at least Malcolm heard nothing
+but the roar of the wind. He turned and followed it. On and on
+it went, down the stair through a corridor, down the great stone
+turnpike stair, and through passage after passage. When it came into
+the more frequented and half lighted thoroughfares of the house,
+it showed as a large figure in a long cloak, indistinct in outline.
+
+It turned a corner close by the marquis's room. But when Malcolm,
+close at its heels, turned also, he saw nothing but a vacant lobby,
+the doors around which were all shut. One after another he quickly
+opened them, all except the marquis's, but nothing was to be seen.
+The conclusion was that it had entered the marquis's room. He must
+not disturb the conclave in the sick chamber with what might be
+but "a false creation, proceeding from the heat oppressed brain,"
+and turned back to his own room, where he threw himself on his bed
+and fell asleep.
+
+About twelve Mrs Courthope called him: his master was worse, and
+wanted to see him.
+
+The midnight was still, for the dark and wind had ceased. But a
+hush and a cloud seemed gathering in the stillness and darkness,
+and with them came the sense of a solemn celebration, as if the
+gloom were canopy as well as pall--black, but bordered and hearted
+with purple and gold; and the stillness seemed to tremble as with
+the inaudible tones of a great organ, at the close or commencement
+of some mighty symphony.
+
+With beating heart he walked softly towards the room where, as on
+an altar, lay the vanishing form of his master, like the fuel in
+whose dying flame was offered the late and ill nurtured sacrifice
+of his spirit.
+
+As he went through the last corridor leading thither, Mrs Catanach,
+type and embodiment of the horrors that haunt the dignity of death,
+came walking towards him like one at home, her great round body
+lightly upborne on her soft foot. It was no time to challenge her
+presence, and yielding her the half of the narrow way, he passed
+without a greeting. She dropped him a courtesy with an uplook and
+again a vailing of her wicked eyes.
+
+The marquis would not have the doctor come near him, and when Malcolm
+entered there was no one in the room but Mrs Courthope. The shadow
+had crept far along the dial. His face had grown ghastly, the
+skin had sunk to the bones, and his eyes stood out as if from much
+staring into the dark. They rested very mournfully on Malcolm for
+a few moments, and then closed softly.
+
+"Is she come yet?" he murmured, opening them wide, with sudden
+stare.
+
+"No, my lord." The lids fell again, softly, slowly. "Be good to
+her, Malcolm," he murmured.
+
+"I wull, my lord," said Malcolm solemnly.
+
+Then the eyes opened and looked at him; something grew in them--
+a light as of love, and drew up after it a tear; but the lips said
+nothing. The eyelids fell again, and in a minute more, Malcolm knew
+by his breathing that he slept.
+
+The slow night waned. He woke sometimes, but soon dozed off again.
+The two watched by him till the dawn. It brought a still grey
+morning, without a breath of wind, and warm for the season. The
+marquis appeared a little revived, but was hardly able to speak.
+Mostly by signs he made Malcolm understand that he wanted Mr Graham,
+but that some one else must go for him. Mrs Courthope went!
+
+As soon as she was out of the room, he lifted his hand with effort,
+laid feeble hold on Malcolm's jacket, and drawing him down, kissed
+him on the forehead. Malcolm burst into tears, and sank weeping by
+the bedside.
+
+Mr Graham entering a little after, and seeing Malcolm on his knees,
+knelt also, and broke into a prayer.
+
+"O blessed Father!" he said, "who knowest this thing, so strange
+to us, which we call death, breathe more life into the heart of
+thy dying son, that in the power of life he may front death. O Lord
+Christ, who diedst thyself, and in thyself knowest it all, heal
+this man in his sore need--heal him with strength to die."
+
+Came a faint Amen from the marquis.
+
+"Thou didst send him into the world: help him out of it. O God,
+we belong to thee utterly. We dying men are thy children, O living
+Father! Thou art such a father, that thou takest our sins from us
+and throwest them behind thy back. Thou cleanest our souls, as thy
+Son did wash our feet. We hold our hearts up to thee: make them
+what they must be, O Love, O Life of men, O Heart of hearts! Give
+thy dying child courage, and hope, and peace--the peace of him
+who overcame all the terrors of humanity, even death itself, and
+liveth for evermore, sitting at thy right hand, our God brother,
+blessed to all ages--amen."
+
+"Amen!" murmured the marquis, and slowly lifting his hand from the
+coverlid, he laid it on the head of Malcolm, who did not know it
+was the hand of his father, blessing him ere he died.
+
+"Be good to her," said the marquis once more. But Malcolm could not
+answer for weeping, and the marquis was not satisfied. Gathering
+all his force he said again, "Be good to her."
+
+"I wull, I wull," burst from Malcolm in sobs, and he wailed aloud.
+
+The day wore on, and the afternoon came. Still Lady Florimel had
+not arrived, and still the marquis lingered.
+
+As the gloom of the twilight was deepening into the early darkness
+of the winter night, he opened wide his eyes, and was evidently
+listening. Malcolm could hear nothing; but the light in his master's
+face grew, and the strain of his listening diminished. At length
+Malcolm became aware of the sound of wheels, which came rapidly
+nearer, till at last the carriage swung up to the hall door. A
+moment, and Lady Florimel was flitting across the room.
+
+"Papa! papa!" she cried, and, throwing her arm over him, laid her
+cheek to his.
+
+The marquis could not return her embrace; he could only receive
+her into the depths of his shining tearful eyes.
+
+"Flory!" he murmured, " going away.  going--I've got--to
+make an--apology. Malcolm, be good--"
+
+The sentence remained unfinished. The light paled from his countenance
+--he had to carry it with him. He was dead.
+
+Lady Florimel gave a loud cry. Mrs Courthope ran to her assistance.
+
+"My lady's in a dead faint!" she whispered, and left the room to
+get help.
+
+Malcolm lifted Lady Florimel in his great arms, and bore her tenderly
+to her own apartment. There he left her to the care of her women,
+and returned to the chamber of death.
+
+Meantime Mr Graham and Mr Soutar had come. When Malcolm re-entered,
+the schoolmaster took him kindly by the arm and said:
+
+"Malcolm, there can be neither place nor moment fitter for the
+solemn communication I am commissioned to make to you: I have, as
+in the presence of your dead father, to inform you that you are
+now Marquis of Lossie; and God forbid you should be less worthy as
+marquis than you have been as fisherman!"
+
+Malcolm stood stupefied. For a while he seemed to himself to be
+turning over in his mind something he had heard read from a book,
+with a nebulous notion of being somehow concerned in it. The thought
+of his father cleared his brain. He ran to the dead body, kissed
+its lips, as he had once kissed the forehead of another, and falling
+on his knees, wept, he knew not for what. Presently, however, he
+recovered himself, rose, and, rejoining the two men, said "Gentlemen,
+hoo mony kens this turn o' things?"
+
+"None but Mr Morrison, Mrs Catanach, and ourselves--so far as I
+know," answered Mr Soutar.
+
+"And Miss Horn," added Mr Graham. "She first brought out the truth
+of it, and ought to be the first to know of your recognition by
+your father."
+
+"I s' tell her mysel'," returned Malcolm. "But, gentlemen, I beg
+o' ye, till I ken what  aboot an' gie ye leave, dinna open yer
+moo' to leevin' cratur' aboot this. There's time eneuch for the
+warl' to ken 't."
+
+"Your lordship commands me," said Mr Soutar.
+
+"Yes, Malcolm,--until you give me leave," said Mr Graham.
+
+"Whaur's Mr Morrison?" asked Malcolm.
+
+"He is still in the house," said Mr Soutar.
+
+"Gang till him, sir, an' gar him promise, on the word o' a gentleman,
+to haud his tongue. I canna bide to hae 't blaret a' gait an' a'
+at ance. For Mistress Catanach, I s' deal wi' her mysel'."
+
+The door opened, and, in all the conscious dignity conferred by
+the immunities and prerogatives of her calling, Mrs Catanach walked
+into the room.
+
+"A word wi' ye, Mistress Catanach," said Malcolm.
+
+"Certainly, my lord," answered the howdy, with mingled presumption
+and respect, and followed him to the dining room.
+
+"Weel, my lord," she began, before he had turned from shutting the
+door behind them, in the tone and with the air, or rather airs, of
+having conferred a great benefit, and expecting its recognition.
+
+"Mistress Catanach," interrupted Malcolm, turning and facing her,
+"gien I be un'er ony obligation to you, it 's frae anither tongue
+I maun hear 't. But I hae an offer to mak ye: Sae lang as it disna
+come oot 'at I'm onything better nor a fisherman born, ye s' hae
+yer twinty poun' i' the year, peyed ye quarterly. But the moment
+fowk says wha I am, ye touch na a poun' note mair, an' I coont
+mysel' free to pursue onything I can pruv agane ye."
+
+Mrs Catanach attempted a laugh of scorn, but her face was grey as
+putty, and its muscles declined response.
+
+"Ay or no," said Malcolm. "I winna gar ye sweir, for I wad lippen
+to yer aith no a hair."
+
+"Ay, my lord," said the howdy, reassuming at least outward composure,
+and with it her natural brass, for as she spoke she held out her
+open palm.
+
+"Na, na!" said Malcolm, "nae forehan payments! Three months o'
+tongue haudin', an' there's yer five poun'; an' Maister Soutar o'
+Duff Harbour 'ill pay 't intill yer ain han'. But brak troth wi'
+me, an' ye s' hear o' 't; for gien ye war hangt, the warl' wad be
+but the cleaner. Noo quit the hoose, an' never lat me see ye aboot
+the place again. But afore ye gang, I gie ye fair warnin' 'at I
+mean to win at a' yer byganes."
+
+The blood of red wrath was seething in Mrs Catanach's face; she drew
+herself up, and stood flaming before him, on the verge of explosion.
+
+"Gang frae the hoose," said Malcolm, "or I'll set the muckle hun'
+to shaw ye the gait."
+
+Her face turned the colour of ashes, and with hanging cheeks and
+scared but not the less wicked eyes, she turned from the room.
+Malcolm watched her out of the house, then following her into the
+town, brought Miss Horn back with him to aid in the last of earthly
+services, and hastened to Duncan's cottage.
+
+But to his amazement and distress, it was forsaken, and the hearth
+cold. In his attendance on his father, he had not seen the piper
+--he could not remember for how many days; and on inquiry he found
+that, although he had not been missed, no one could recall having
+seen him later than three or four days agone. The last he could
+hear of him in the neighbourhood was, that, about a week before,
+a boy had spied him sitting on a rock in the Baillies' Barn, with
+his pipes in his lap. Searching the cottage, he found that his
+broadsword and dirk, with all his poor finery, were gone.
+
+That same night Mrs Catanach also disappeared.
+
+A week after, what was left of Lord Lossie was buried. Malcolm
+followed the hearse with the household. Miss Horn walked immediately
+behind him, on the arm of the schoolmaster. It was a great funeral,
+with a short road, for the body was laid in the church--close to
+the wall, just under the crusader with the Norman canopy.
+
+Lady Florimel wept incessantly for three days; on the fourth she
+looked out on the sea and thought it very dreary; on the fifth she
+found a certain gratification in hearing herself called the marchioness;
+on the sixth she tried on her mourning, and was pleased; on the
+seventh she went with the funeral and wept again; on the eighth
+came Lady Bellair, who on the ninth carried her away.
+
+To Malcolm she had not spoken once.
+
+Mr Graham left Portlossie.
+
+Miss Horn took to her bed for a week.
+
+Mr Crathie removed his office to the House itself, took upon him
+the function of steward as well as factor, had the state rooms
+dismantled, and was master of the place.
+
+Malcolm helped Stoat with the horses, and did odd jobs for Mr Crathie.
+From his likeness to the old marquis, as he was still called, the
+factor had a favour for him, firmly believing the said marquis to
+be his father, and Mrs Stewart his mother. Hence he allowed him a
+key to the library, of which Malcolm made good use.
+
+The story of Malcolm's plans and what came of them, requires another
+book.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Malcolm, by George MacDonald
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MALCOLM ***
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