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.
