Part 21 (1/2)
And again he offered the coin.
”I don't in the least see why, on your own principles, you shouldn't take the money,” said the girl, with more than the coldness of an uninterested umpire. ”You worked for it, I'm sure--first accompanying me home in such a storm, and then finding the book and bringing it back all the way to the house!”
”'Deed, my leddy, sic a doctrine wad tak a' grace oot o' the earth!
What wad this life be worth gien a' was to be peyed for? I wad cut my throat afore I wad bide in sic a warl'.--Tak yer half croon, my leddy,” he concluded, in a tone of entreaty.
But the energetic outburst was sufficing, in such her mood, only to the disgust of Lady Florimel.
”Do anything with the money you please; only go away, and don't plague me about it,” she said freezingly.
”What can I du wi' what I wadna pa.s.s throu' my fingers?” said Malcolm with the patience of deep disappointment.
”Give it to some poor creature: you know some one who would be glad of it, I daresay.”
”I ken mony ane, my leddy, wham it wad weel become yer am bonny han'
to gie 't till; but I'm no gaein' to tak' credit fer a leeberality that wad ill become me.”
”You can tell how you earned it.”
”And profess mysel' disgraced by takin' a reward frae a born leddy for what I wad hae dune for ony beggar wife i' the lan'. Na, na, my leddy.”
”Your services are certainly flattering, when you put me on a level with any beggar in the country!”
”In regaird o' sic service, my leddy: ye ken weel eneuch what I mean. Obleege me by takin' back yer siller.”
”How dare you ask me to take back what I once gave?”
”Ye cudna hae kent what ye was doin' whan ye gae 't, my leddy. Tak it back, an tak a hunnerweicht aff o' my hert.”
He actually mentioned his heart!--was it to be borne by a girl in Lady Florimel's mood?
”I beg you will not annoy me,” she said, m.u.f.fling her anger in folds of distance, and again sought her book.
Malcolm looked at her for a moment, then turned his face towards the sea, and for another moment stood silent. Lady Florimel glanced up, but Malcolm was unaware of her movement. He lifted his hand, and looked at the half crown gleaming on his palm; then, with a sudden poise of his body, and a sudden fierce action of his arm, he sent the coin, swift with his heart's repudiation, across the sands into the tide. Ere it struck the water he had turned, and, with long stride but low bent head, walked away. A pang shot to Lady Florimel's heart. ”Malcolm!” she cried.
He turned instantly, came slowly back, and stood erect and silent before her.
She must say something. Her eye fell on the little parcel beside her, and she spoke the first thought that came.
”Will you take this?” she said, and offered him the handkerchief.
In a dazed way he put out his hand and took it, staring at it as if he did not know what it was.
”It's some sair!” he said at length, with a motion of his hands as if to grasp his head between them. ”Ye winna tak even the was.h.i.+n'
o' a pocket nepkin frae me, an' ye wad gar me tak a haill half croon frae yersel'! Mem, ye're a gran' leddy an' a bonny; an ye hae turns aboot ye, gien 'twar but the set o' yer heid, 'at micht gar an angel lat fa' what he was carryin', but afore I wad affront ane that want.i.t naething o' me but gude will, I wad--I wad-- raither be the fisher lad that I am.”
A weak kneed peroration, truly; but Malcolm was over burdened at last. He laid the little parcel on the sand at her feet, almost reverentially, and again turned. But Lady Florimel spoke again.
”It is you who are affronting me now,” she said gently. ”When a lady gives her handkerchief to a gentleman, it is commonly received as a very great favour indeed.”
”Gien I hae made a mistak, my leddy, I micht weel mak it, no bein' a gentleman, and no bein' used to the traitment o' ane. But I doobt gien a gentleman wad ha' surmised what ye was efter wi' yer nepkin', gien ye had offert him half a croon first.”
”Oh, yes, he would--perfectly!” said Florimel with an air of offence.