Part 48 (1/2)
”My poor Malcolm!” she said, ”I am sorry for you.”
She withdrew her hand, and again leaned over the bulwark. Her heart was softened towards her groom brother, and for a moment it seemed to her that some wrong had been done. Why should the one be a marchioness and the other a groom? Then came the thought that now all was explained. Every peculiarity of the young man, every gift extraordinary of body, mind, or spirit, his strength, his beauty, his courage, and honesty, his simplicity, n.o.bleness, and affection, yes, even what in him was mere doggedness and presumption, all, everything explained itself to Florimel in the fact that the incomprehensible fisherman groom, that talked like a parson, was the son of her father. She never thought of the woman that was his mother, and what share she might happen to have in the phenomenon --thought only of her father, and a little pitifully of the half honour and more than half disgrace infolding the very existence of her attendant. As usual her thoughts were confused. The one moment the poor fellow seemed to exist only on sufferance, having no right to be there at all, for as fine a fellow as he was; the next she thought how immeasurably he was indebted to the family of the Colonsays.
Then arose the remembrance of his arrogance and presumption in a.s.suming on such a ground something more than guardians.h.i.+p-- absolute tyranny over her, and with the thought pride and injury at once got the upper hand. Was she to be dictated to by a low born, low bred fellow like that--a fellow whose hands were harder than any leather, not with doing things for his amus.e.m.e.nt but actually with earning his daily bread--one that used to smell so of fish --on the ground of right too--and such a right as ought to exclude him for ever from her presence!--She turned to him again.
”How long have you known this--this--painful--indeed I must confess to finding it an awkward and embarra.s.sing fact? I presume you do know it?” she said, coldly and searchingly.
”My father confessed it on his deathbed.”
”Confessed!” echoed Florimel's pride, but she restrained her tongue.
”It explains much,” she said, with a sort of judicial relief.
”There has been a great change upon you since then. Mind I only say explains. It could never justify such behaviour as yours-- no, not if you had been my true brother. There is some excuse, I daresay, to be made for your ignorance and inexperience. No doubt the discovery turned your head. Still I am at a loss to understand how you could imagine that sort of--of--that sort of thing gave you any right over me!”
”Love has its rights, my lady,” said Malcolm.
Again her eyes flashed and her cheek flushed. ”I cannot permit you to talk so to me. You must not fancy such things are looked upon in our position with the same indifference as in yours. You must not flatter yourself that you can be allowed to cherish the same feelings towards me as if--as if--you were really my brother.
I am sorry for you, Malcolm, as I said already; but you have altogether missed your mark if you think that can alter facts, or shelter you from the consequences of presumption.”
Again she turned away. Malcolm's heart was sore for her. How grievously she had sunk from the Lady Florimel of the old days! It was all from being so constantly with that wretched woman and her vile nephew. Had he been able to foresee such a rapid declension, he would have taken her away long ago, and let come of her feelings what might. He had been too careful over them.
”Indeed,” Florimel resumed, but this time without turning towards him, ”I do not see how things can possibly, after what you have told me, remain as they are. I should not feel at all comfortable in having one about me who would be constantly supposing he had rights, and reflecting on my father for fancied injustice, and whom I fear nothing could prevent from taking liberties. It is very awkward indeed, Malcolm--very awkward! But it is your own fault that you are so changed, and I must say I should not have expected it of you. I should have thought you had more good sense and regard for me. If I were to tell the world why I wanted to keep you, people would but shrug their shoulders and tell me to get rid of you; and if I said nothing, there would always be something coming up that required explanation. Besides, you would for ever be trying to convert me to one or other of your foolish notions. I hardly know what to do. I will consult--my friends on the subject. And yet I would rather they knew nothing of it, My father you see--” She paused.
”If you had been my real brother it would have been different.”
”I am your real brother, my lady, and I have tried to behave like one ever since I knew it.”
”Yes; you have been troublesome. I have always understood that brothers were troublesome. I am told they are given to taking upon them the charge of their sisters conduct. But I would not have even you think me heartless. If you had been a real brother, of course I should have treated you differently.”
”I don't doubt it, my lady, for everything would have been different then. I should have been the Marquis of Lossie, and you would have been Lady Florimel Colonsay. But it would have made little difference in one thing: I could not have loved you better than I do now-- if only you would believe it, my lady!”
The emotion of Malcolm, evident in his voice as he said this, seemed to touch her a little.
”I believe it, my poor Malcolm,” she returned, ”quite as much as I want, or as it is pleasant to believe it. I think you would do a great deal for me, Malcolm. But then you are so rude! take things into your hands, and do things for me I don't want done! You will judge, not only for yourself, but for me! How can a man of your training and position judge for a lady of mine! Don't you see the absurdity of it? At times it has been very awkward indeed. Perhaps when I am married it might be arranged; but I don't know.”
Here Malcolm ground his teeth, but was otherwise irresponsive as block of stone.
”How would a gamekeeper's place suit you? That is a half gentlemanly kind of post. I will speak to the factor, and see what can be done.--But on the whole I think, Malcolm, it will be better you should go. I am very sorry. I wish you had not told me. It is very painful to me. You should not have told me. These things are not intended to be talked of--Suppose you were to marry--say--”
She stopped abruptly, and it was well both for herself and Malcolm that she caught back the name that was on her lips.
The poor girl must not be judged as if she had been more than a girl, or other than one with every disadvantage of evil training.
Had she been four or five years older, she might have been a good deal worse, and have seemed better, for she would have kept much of what she had now said to herself, and would perhaps have treated her brother more kindly while she cared even less for him.
”What will you do with Kelpie, my lady?” asked Malcolm quietly.
”There it is, you see!” she returned. ”So awkward! If you had not told me, things could have gone on as before, and for your sake I could have pretended I came this voyage of my own will and pleasure.
Now, I don't know what I can do--except indeed you--let me see --if you were to hold your tongue, and tell n.o.body what you have just told me--I don't know but you might stay till you got her so far trained that another man could manage her. I might even be able to ride her myself.--Will you promise?”