Still the lady sat on, in her
whiteness a creature of the dawn, without even lifting her head.
At length, having added a few more fishes to the little heap in
the bottom of his boat, and finding his watch bear witness that
the hour was at hand, he seated himself on his thwart, and rowed
lustily to the shore, his bosom filled with the hope of yet another
sight of the lovely face, and another hearing of the sweet English
voice and speech. But the very first time he turned his head to
look, he saw but the sloping foot of the rock sink bare into the
shore. No white robed angel sat at the gate of the resurrection; no
moving thing was visible on the far vacant sands. When he reached
the top of the dune, there was no living creature beyond but a few
sheep feeding on the thin grass. He fired the gun, rowed back to
the Seaton, ate his breakfast, and set out to carry the best of
his fish to the House.
The moment he turned the corner of her street, he saw Mrs Catanach
standing on her threshold with her arms akimbo; although she was
always tidy, and her house spotlessly trim, she yet seemed forever
about the door, on the outlook at least, if not on the watch.
"What hae ye in yer bit basket the day, Ma'colm?" she said, with
a peculiar smile, which was not sweet enough to restore vanished
confidence.
"Naething guid for dogs," answered Malcolm, and was walking past.
But she made a step forward, and, with a laugh meant to indicate
friendly amusement, said,
"Let's see what's intill't, ony gait (anyhow).
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