'Deed, my leddy, we wadna need to be particlar, whiles,
or it wad be the waur for 's."
Simple as it was, the explanation served to restore her equanimity,
disturbed by what had seemed his presumption in lying down in her
presence: she saw that she had mistaken the action. The fact was,
that, concluding from her behaviour she had something to say to him,
but was not yet at leisure for him, he had lain down, as a loving
dog might, to await her time. It was devotion, not coolness. To remain
standing before her would have seemed a demand on her attention; to
lie down was to withdraw and wait. But Florimel, although pleased,
was only the more inclined to torment--a peculiarity of disposition
which she inherited from her father: she bowed her face once more
over her book, and read though three whole stanzas, without however
understanding a single phrase in them, before she spoke. Then
looking up, and regarding for a moment the youth who lay watching
her with the eyes of the servants in the psalm, she said,--"Well?
What are you waiting for?"
"I thocht ye wantit me, my leddy! I beg yer pardon," answered
Malcolm, springing to his feet, and turning to go.
"Do you ever read?" she asked.
"Aften that," replied Malcolm, turning again, and standing stock
still. "An' I like best to read jist as yer leddyship's readin'
the noo, lyin' o' the san' hill, wi' the haill sea afore me, an
naething atween me an' the icebergs but the watter an' the stars
an' a wheen islands.
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