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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Malcolm"

He concluded that she had
crossed to the other side of the dune; but when he had gone so far
on his way to the village as to clear the eastern end of the sandhill,
and there turned and looked up its southern slope, she was still
nowhere to be seen. The old highland stories of his grandfather
came crowding to mind, and, altogether human as she had appeared,
he almost doubted whether the sea, from which he had thought he
rescued her, were not her native element. The book, however, not
to mention the shoes and stockings, was against the supposition.
Anyhow, he had seen a vision of some order or other, as certainly
as if an angel from heaven had appeared to him, for the waters of
his mind had been troubled with a new sense of grace and beauty,
giving an altogether fresh glory to existence.
Of course no one would dream of falling in love with an unearthly
creature, even an angel; at least, something homely must mingle
with the glory ere that become possible; and as to this girl, the
youth could scarcely have regarded her with a greater sense of
far offness had he known her for the daughter of a king of the sea
--one whose very element was essentially death to him as life to
her. Still he walked home as if the heavy boots he wore were wings
at his heels, like those of the little Eurus or Boreas that stood
blowing his trumpet for ever in the round open temple which from
the top of a grassy hill in the park overlooked the Seaton.
"Sic een!" he kept saying to himself; "an' sic sma' white han's!
an' sic a bonny flit! Eh hoo she wad glitter throu' the water in
a bag net! Faith! gien she war to sing 'come doon' to me, I wad
gang.


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