“Joseph Mair’s. He and his wife will come and fetch you. Annie Mair will go with us—if I may say us: will you allow me to go in your boat, my lady?”
“I couldn’t go without you, Malcolm.”
“Thank you, my lady. Indeed I don’t know how I could let you go without me! Not that there is anything to fear, or that I could make it the least safer; but somehow it seems my business to take care of you.”
“Like Kelpie?” said Clementina, with a merrier smile than he had ever seen on her face before.
“Yes, my lady,” answered Malcolm; “—if to do for you all and the best you will permit me to do, be to take care of you like Kelpie, then so it is.”
Clementina gave a little sigh.
“Mind you don’t scruple, my lady, to give what orders you please. It will be your fishing-boat for to-night.”
Clementina bowed her head in acknowledgment.
“And now, my lady,” Malcolm went on, “just look about you for a moment. See this great vault of heaven, full of golden light raining on trees and flowers—every atom of air shining. Take the whole into your heart, that you may feel the difference at night, my lady —when the stars, and neither sun nor moon, will be in the sky, and all the flowers they shine on will be their own flitting, blinking, swinging, shutting and opening reflections in the swaying floor of the ocean,—when the heat will be gone, and the air clean and clear as the thoughts of a saint.”
Clementina did as he said, and gazed above and around her on the glory of the summer day overhanging the sweet garden, and on the flowers that had just before been making her heart ache with their unattainable secret. But she thought with herself that if Malcolm and she but shared it with a common heart as well as neighboured eyes, gorgeous day and ethereal night, or snow-clad wild and sky of stormy blackness, were alike welcome to her spirit.