The evening came; and the company at Lossie House was still seated at table, Clementina heartily weary of the vapid talk that had been going on all through the dinner, when she was informed that a fisherman of the name of Mair was at the door, accompanied by his wife, saying they had an appointment with her. She had already acquainted her hostess, when first they sat down, with her arrangements for going a-fishing that night, and much foolish talk and would-be wit had followed; now, when she rose and excused herself, they all wished her a pleasant evening, in a tone indicating the conviction that she little knew what she was about, and would soon be longing heartily enough to be back with them in the drawing-room, whose lighted windows she would see from the boat. But Clementina hoped otherwise, hurriedly changed her dress, hastened to join Malcolm’s messengers, and almost in a moment had made the two child-like people at home with her, by the simplicity and truth of her manner, and the directness of her utterance. They had not talked with her five minutes before they said in their hearts that here was the wife for the marquis if he could get her.
“She’s jist like ane o’ oorsels,” whispered Annie to her husband on the first opportunity, “only a hantle better an’ bonnier.”
They took the nearest way to the harbour—through the town, and Lady Clementina and Blue Peter kept up a constant talk as they went. All in the streets and at the windows stared to see the grand lady from the House walking between a Scaurnose fisherman and his wife, and chatting away with them as if they were all fishers together.
“What’s the wordle comin’ till!” cried Mrs Mellis, the draper’s wife, as she saw them pass.
“I’m glaid to see the yoong wuman—an’ a bonny lass she is!—in sic guid company,” said Miss Horn, looking down from the opposite side of the way. “I’m thinkin’ the han’ o’ the markis ’ill be i’ this, no’!”
All was ready to receive her, but in the present bad state of the harbour, and the tide having now ebbed a little way, the boat could not get close either to quay or shore. Six of the crew were on board, seated on the thwarts with their oars shipped, for Peter had insisted on a certain approximation to man-of-war manners and discipline for the evening, or at least until they got to the fishing ground. The shore itself formed one side of the harbour, and sloped down into it, and on the sand stood Malcolm with a young woman, whom Clementina recognised at once as the girl she had seen at the Findlays’.
“My lady,” he said, approaching, “would you do me the favour to let Lizzy go with you. She would like to attend your ladyship, because, being a fisherman’s daughter, she is used to the sea, and Mrs Mair is not so much at home upon it, being a farmer’s daughter from inland.”
Receiving Clementina’s thankful assent, he turned to Lizzy and said—
“Min’ ye tell my leddy what rizon ye ken whaurfor my mistress at the Hoose sudna be merried upo’ Lord Liftore—him ’at was Lord Meikleham. Ye may speyk to my leddy there as ye wad to mysel’— an’ better, haein’ the hert o’ a wuman.”
Lizzy blushed a deep red, and dared but the glimmer of a glance at Clementina, but there was only shame, no annoyance in her face.