Malcolm, finding she did not reply, "but I wad like to hear as
muckle as ye can say."

"I hae naething to tell ye, Ma'colm, but jist 'at my leddy Florimel's
gauin' to be merried upo' Lord Meikleham--Lord Liftore, they ca'
him noo. Hech me!"

"God forbid she sud be merried upon ony sic a bla'guard!" cried
Malcolm.

"Dinna ca' 'im ill names, Ma'colm. I canna bide it, though I hae
no richt to tak up the stick for him."

"I wadna say a word 'at micht fa' sair on a sair hert," he returned;
"but gien ye kent a', ye wad ken I hed a gey sized craw to pluck
wi' 's lordship mysel'."

The girl gave a low cry.

"Ye wadna hurt 'im, Ma'colm?" she said, in terror at the thought
of the elegant youth in the clutches of an angry fisherman, even
if he were the generous Malcolm MacPhail himself.

"I wad raither not," he replied, "but we maun see hoo he cairries
himsel'."

"Du naething till 'im for my sake, Ma'colm. Ye can hae naething
again' him yersel'."

It was too dark for Malcolm to see the keen look of wistful regret