“Well, I must lay some penalty upon you, to deter others,” said the marquis.
“Verra well, my lord. Sae lang ’s it’s fair, I s’ bide it ohn grutten (without weeping).”
“It shan’t be too hard. It’s just this—to give John Bykes the thrashing he deserves, as soon as you’re out of sight of the House.”
“Na, na, my lord; I canna do that,” said Malcolm.
“So you’re afraid of him, after all!”
“Feared at Johnnie Bykes, my lord! Ha! ha!”
“You threatened him a minute ago, and now, when I give you leave to thrash him, you decline the honour!”
“The disgrace, my lord. He’s an aulder man, an’ no abune half the size. But fegs! gien he says anither word agen my gran’father, I will gie ’s neck a bit thraw.”
“Well, well, be off with you both,” said the marquis rising.
No one heard the rustle of Lady Florimel’s dress as she sped up the stair, thinking with herself how very odd it was to have a secret with a fisherman; for a secret it was, seeing the reticence of Malcolm had been a relief to her, when she shrunk from what seemed the imminent mention of her name in the affair before the servants. She had even felt a touch of mingled admiration and gratitude when she found what a faithful squire he was—capable of an absolute obstinacy indeed, where she was concerned. For her own sake as well as his she was glad that he had got off so well, for otherwise she would have felt bound to tell her father the whole story, and she was not at all so sure as Malcolm that he would have been satisfied with his reasons, and would not have been indignant with the fellow for presuming even to be silent concerning his daughter. Indeed Lady Florimel herself felt somewhat irritated with him, as having brought her into the awkward situation of sharing a secret with a youth of his position.