Part 41 (2/2)

Florimel finished her meal, and set about examining the cabin more closely. The result was bewilderment. How could a yacht, fitted with such completeness, such luxury, be lying for hire in the Thames?

As for the crest on the plate, that was a curious coincidence: many people had the same crest. But both materials and colours were like those of the Pysche! Then the pretty bindings on the book shelves attracted her: every book was either one she knew or one of which Malcolm had spoken to her! He must have had a hand in the business!

Next she opened the door of the stateroom; but when she saw the lovely little white berth, and the indications of every comfort belonging to a lady's chamber, she could keep her pleasure to herself no longer. She hastened to the companionway, and called Malcolm.

”What does it all mean?” she said, her eyes and cheeks glowing with delight.

”It means, my lady, that you are on board your own yacht, the Pysche.

I brought her with me from Portlossie, and have had her fitted up according to the wish you once expressed to my lord, your father, that you could sleep on board. Now you might make a voyage of many days in her.”

”Oh, Malcolm!” was all Florimel could answer. She was too pleased to think as yet of any of the thousand questions that might naturally have followed.

”Why, you've got the Arabian Nights, and all my favourite books there!” she said at length.--”How long shall we have before we get among the s.h.i.+ps again?”

She fancied she had given orders to return, and that the boat had been put about.

”A good many hours, my lady,” answered Malcolm.

”Ah, of course!” she returned; ”it takes much longer against wind and tide.--But my time is my own,” she added, rather in the manner of one a.s.serting a freedom she did not feel, ”and I don't see why I should trouble myself. It will make some to do, I daresay, if I don't appear at dinner; but it won't do anybody any harm. They wouldn't break their hearts if they never saw me again.”

”Not one of them, my lady,” said Malcolm.

She lifted her head sharply, but took no farther notice of his remark.

”I won't be plagued any more,” she said, holding counsel with herself, but intending Malcolm to hear. ”I will break with them rather. Why should I not be as free as Clementina? She comes and goes when and where she likes, and does what she pleases.”

”Why, indeed?” said Malcolm; and a pause followed, during which Florimel stood apparently thinking, but in reality growing sleepy.

”I will lie down a little,” she said, ”with one of those lovely books.”

The excitement, the air, and the pleasure generally had wearied her. Nothing could have suited Malcolm better. He left her. She went to her berth, and fell fast asleep.

When she awoke, it was some time before she could think where she was. A strange ghostly light was about her, in which she could see nothing plain; but the motion helped her to understand. She rose, and crept to the companion ladder, and up on deck. Wonder upon wonder!

A clear full moon reigned high in the heavens, and below there was nothing but water, gleaming with her molten face, or rus.h.i.+ng past the boat lead coloured, gray, and white. Here and there a vessel --a snow cloud of sails--would glide between them and the moon, and turn black from truck to waterline.

The mast of the Psyche had shot up to its full height; the reef points of the mainsail were loose, and the gaff was crowned with its topsail; foresail and jib were full; and she was flying as if her soul thirsted within her after infinite s.p.a.ces. Yet what more could she want? All around her was wave rus.h.i.+ng upon wave, and above her blue heaven and regnant moon. Florimel gave a great sigh of delight.

But what did it--what could it mean? What was Malcolm about?

Where was he taking her? What would London say to such an escapade extraordinary? Lady Bellair would be the first to believe she had run away with her groom--she knew so many instances of that sort of thing! and Lord Liftore would be the next. It was too bad of Malcolm! But she did not feel very angry with him, notwithstanding, for had he not done it to give her pleasure? And a.s.suredly he had not failed. He knew better than anyone how to please her--better even than Lenorme.

She looked around her. No one was to be seen but Davie, who was steering. The mainsail hid the men, and Rose, having been on deck for two or three hours, was again below. She turned to Davy. But the boy had been schooled, and only answered,

”I maunna sae naething sae lang's I'm steerin', mem.”

She called Malcolm. He was beside her ere his name had left her lips. The boy's reply had irritated her, and, coming upon this sudden and utter change in her circ.u.mstances, made her feel as one no longer lady of herself and her people, but a prisoner.

”Once more, what does this mean, Malcolm?” she said, in high displeasure. ”You have deceived me shamefully! You left me to believe we were on our way back to London--and here we are out at sea! Am I no longer your mistress? Am I a child, to be taken where you please?--And what, pray, is to become of the horses you left at Mr Lenorme's?”

Malcolm was glad of a question he was prepared to answer.

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