“Not one of them, my lady,” said Malcolm.
She lifted her head sharply, but took no farther notice of his remark.
“I won’t be plagued any more,” she said, holding counsel with herself, but intending Malcolm to hear. “I will break with them rather. Why should I not be as free as Clementina? She comes and goes when and where she likes, and does what she pleases.”
“Why, indeed?” said Malcolm; and a pause followed, during which Florimel stood apparently thinking, but in reality growing sleepy.
“I will lie down a little,” she said, “with one of those lovely books.”
The excitement, the air, and the pleasure generally had wearied her. Nothing could have suited Malcolm better. He left her. She went to her berth, and fell fast asleep.
When she awoke, it was some time before she could think where she was. A strange ghostly light was about her, in which she could see nothing plain; but the motion helped her to understand. She rose, and crept to the companion ladder, and up on deck. Wonder upon wonder! A clear full moon reigned high in the heavens, and below there was nothing but water, gleaming with her molten face, or rushing past the boat lead-coloured, gray, and white. Here and there a vessel —a snow-cloud of sails—would glide between them and the moon, and turn black from truck to water-line. The mast of the Psyche had shot up to its full height; the reef-points of the main-sail were loose, and the gaff was crowned with its topsail; foresail and jib were full; and she was flying as if her soul thirsted within her after infinite spaces. Yet what more could she want? All around her was wave rushing upon wave, and above her blue heaven and regnant moon. Florimel gave a great sigh of delight.
But what did it—what could it mean? What was Malcolm about? Where was he taking her? What would London say to such an escapade extraordinary? Lady Bellair would be the first to believe she had run away with her groom—she knew so many instances of that sort of thing! and Lord Liftore would be the next. It was too bad of Malcolm! But she did not feel very angry with him, notwithstanding, for had he not done it to give her pleasure? And assuredly he had not failed. He knew better than anyone how to please her—better even than Lenorme.
She looked around her. No one was to be seen but Davie, who was steering. The main-sail hid the men, and Rose, having been on deck for two or three hours, was again below. She turned to Davy. But the boy had been schooled, and only answered,
“I maunna say naething sae lang ’s I’m steerin’, mem.”