“I reckon ye wadna care though the she-deevil knockit oot yer harns; but ye ha’e the bairn, woman! Ha’e mercy on the bairn, an’ rin to the boddom.”
“I want to speak to ye, Ma’colm MacPhail,” she said, in a tone whose very stillness revealed a depth of trouble.
“I doobt I canna hearken to ye richt the noo,” said Malcolm. “But bide a wee.” He swung himself from Kelpie’s back, and, hanging hard on the bit with one hand, searched with the other in the pocket of his coat, saying, as he did so—
“Sugar, Kelpie! sugar!”
The animal gave an eager snort, settled on her feet, and began snuffing about him. He made haste, for, if her eagerness should turn to impatience, she would do her endeavour to bite him. After crunching three or four lumps, she stood pretty quiet, and Malcolm must make the best of what time she would give him.
“Noo, Lizzy!” he said hurriedly. “Speyk while ye can.”
“Ma’colm,” said the girl, and looked him full in the face for a moment, for agony had overcome shame; then her gaze sought the far horizon, which to seafaring people is as the hills whence cometh their aid to the people who dwell among mountains; “—Ma’colm, he’s gaein’ to merry Leddy Florimel.”
Malcolm started. Could the girl have learned more concerning his sister than had yet reached himself? A fine watching over her was his, truly! But who was this he?
Lizzy had never uttered the name of the father of her child, and all her people knew was that he could not be a fisherman, for then he would have married her before the child was born. But Malcolm had had a suspicion from the first, and now her words all but confirmed it.—And was that fellow going to marry his sister? He turned white with dismay—then red with anger, and stood speechless.
But he was quickly brought to himself by a sharp pinch under the shoulder blade from Kelpie’s long teeth: he had forgotten her, and she had taken the advantage.