Alone at length in their somewhat strange quarters—concerning which Malcolm had merely told her that the room was that in which he was born—what place fitter, thought Clementina, wherein to commence the long and wonderful story she hungered to hear? Malcolm would still have delayed it, but she asked question upon question till she had him fairly afloat. He had not gone far, however, before he had to make mention of the stair in the wall, which led from the place where they sat straight from the house.
"Can there be such a stair to this room?" she asked in surprise.
He rose took a candle, opened a door, then another, and showed her the first of the steps down which the midwife had carried him, and descending which, twenty years after, his father had come by his death.
"Let us go down," said Clementina.
"Are you not afraid? Look!" said Malcolm.
"Afraid, and you with me!" she exclaimed.
"But it is dark, and the steps are broken."
"If it led to Hades I would go with my fisherman. The only horror would be to be left behind."
"Come, then," said Malcolm; "only you must be very careful."
He laid a shawl on her shoulders, and down they went, Malcolm a few steps in front, holding the candle to every step for her, many being broken.