"
"My grandfather told you something of my early history--did he
not, my lady?"
"Yes--at least I think I remember his doing so."
"Will you recall it, and see whether it suggests nothing?"
But Florimel could remember nothing in particular, she said. She had
in truth, for as much as she was interested at the time, forgotten
almost everything of the story.
"I really cannot think what you mean," she added. "If you are going
to be mysterious, I shall resume my place by the tiller. Travers
is deaf, and Davy is dumb: I prefer either."
"My lady," said Malcolm, "your father knew my mother, and persuaded
her that he loved her."
Florimel drew herself up, and would have looked him to ashes if
wrath could burn. Malcolm saw he must come to the point at once or
the parley would cease.
"My lady," he said, "your father was my father too. I am a son of
the Marquis of Lossie, and your brother--your ladyship's half
brother, that is."
She looked a little stunned. The gleam died out of her eyes, and
the glow out of her cheek. She turned and leaned over the bulwark.
He said no more, but stood watching her. She raised herself suddenly,
looked at him, and said,
"Do I understand you?"
"I am your brother," Malcolm. repeated.
She made a step forward, and held out her hand.
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