And still and ever the water rolled and tossed away behind
in the moonlight.
"Oh, my lady!" said Malcolm, "what it would be to have a soul as
big and as clean as all this!"
She made no reply, did not turn her head, or acknowledge that she
heard him, a few minutes more she stood, then went below in silence,
and Malcolm saw no more of her that night.
CHAPTER LII: HOPE CHAPEL
It was Sunday, during which Malcolm lay at the point of death some
three stories above his sister's room. There, in the morning, while
he was at the worst, she was talking with Clementina, who had called
to see whether she would not go and hear the preacher of whom he
had spoken with such fervour. Florimel laughed.
"You seem to take everything for gospel Malcolm says, Clementina!"
"Certainly not," returned Clementina, rather annoyed. "Gospel
nowadays is what nobody disputes and nobody heeds; but I do heed
what Malcolm says, and intend to find out, if I can, whether there
is any reality in it. I thought you had a high opinion of your
groom!"
"I would take his word for anything a man's word can be taken for,"
said Florimel.
"But you don't set much store by his judgment?"
"Oh, I daresay he's right. But I don't care for the things you
like so much to talk with him about. He's a sort of poet, anyhow,
and poets must be absurd.
Pages:
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425