Malcolm | Page 8

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? I'm
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