She drew herself up like the princess Lucifera, "with loftie eyes,
halfe loth to looke so lowe," and said, cold as ice,
"If once I hear that word on your lips again, as between you and
me, Malcolm, I shall that very moment discharge you from my service,
as for a misdemeanour. You have no claim upon me, and the world
will not blame me."
"Certainly not, my lady. I beg your pardon. But there is one who
perhaps will blame you a little."
"I know what you mean; but I don't pretend to any of your religious
motives. When I do, then you may bring them to bear upon me."
"I was not so foolish as you think me, my lady. I merely imagined
you might be as far on as a Chinaman," said Malcolm, with a poor
attempt at a smile.
"What insolence do you intend now?"
"The Chinese, my lady, pay the highest respect to their departed
parents. When I said there was one who would blame you a little,
I meant your father."
He touched his cap, and withdrew.
"Send Rose to me," Florimel called after him, and presently with
her went down to the cabin.
And still the Psyche soul-like flew. Her earthly birth held her to
the earth, but the ocean upbore her, and the breath of God drove
her on. Little thought Florimel to what she hurried her! A queen in
her own self sufficiency and condescension, she could not suspect
how little of real queendom, noble and self sustaining, there was
in her being; for not a soul of man or woman whose every atom leans
not upon its father fact in God, can sustain itself when the outer
wall of things begins to tumble towards the centre, crushing it in
on every side.
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