“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 I’m 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.
