"Won't you sit by me, Malcolm?" seeing his more than hesitation, she said at last, with a slight tremble in the voice that was music itself in his ears.
"I have been catching fish, my lady," he answered, "and my clothes must be unpleasant. I will sit here."
He went a little lower on the slope and laid himself down, leaning on his elbow.
"Do fresh-water fishes smell the same as the sea-fishes, Malcolm?" she asked.
"Indeed I am not certain, my lady. Why?"
"Because if they do—You remember what you said to me as we passed the saw-mill in the wood?"
It was by silence Malcolm showed he did remember.
"Does not this night remind you of that one at Wastbeach when we came upon you singing?" said Clementina.
"It is like it, my lady—now. But, a little ago, before I saw you, I was thinking of that night, and thinking how different this was."
Again a moon-filled silence fell, and once more it was the lady who broke it. "Do you know who are at the house?" she asked.