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
