face once rousing in her mind the thought of the fisher lad of
Portlossie! All that had passed between them in the days already
old was virtually forgotten.

By degrees he gathered courage, and soon began to feel that there
was small chance indeed of her eyes alighting upon him for the
briefest of moments. Then he looked more closely, and felt through
rather than saw with his eyes that some sort of change had already
passed upon her. It was Florimel, yet not the very Florimel he had
known. Already something had begun to supplant the girl freedom
that had formerly in every look and motion asserted itself. She
was more beautiful, but not so lovely in his eyes; much of what had
charmed him had vanished. She was more stately, but the stateliness
had a little hardness mingled with it: and could it be that the
first of a cloud had already gathered on her forehead? Surely she
was not so happy as she had been at Lossie House. She was dressed
in black, with a white flower in her hair.

Beside her sat the bold faced countess, and behind them her nephew,
Lord Meikleham that was now Lord Liftore. A fierce indignation
seized the heart of Malcolm at the sight. Behind the form of the
earl, his mind's eye saw that of Lizzy, out in the wind on the
Boar's Tail, her old shawl wrapped about herself and the child of
the man who sat there so composed and comfortable. His features
were fine and clear cut, his shoulders broad, and his head well
set: he had much improved since Malcolm offered to fight him with
one hand in the dining room of Lossie House. Every now and then
he leaned forward between his aunt and Florimel, and spoke to the
latter. To Malcolm's eyes she seemed to listen with some haughtiness. Now
and then she cast him an indifferent glance. Malcolm was pleased: