At the flash,
Florimel gave a cry and half rose to her feet, but at the thunder,
fell as if stunned by the noise, on the sand. As if with a bound,
Malcolm was by her side, but when she perceived his terror, she
smiled, and laying hold of his hand, sprung to her feet.
"Come, come," she cried; and still holding his hand, hurried up the
dune, and down the other side of it. Malcolm accompanied her step
for step, strongly tempted, however, to snatch her up, and run for
the bored craig: he could not think why she made for the road--
high on an unscalable embankment, with the park wall on the other
side. But she ran straight for a door in the embankment itself,
dark between two buttresses, which, never having seen it open, he
had not thought of. For a moment she stood panting before it, while
with trembling hand she put a key in the lock; the next she pushed
open the creaking door and entered. As she turned to take out the
key, she saw Malcolm yards away in the middle of the road and in
a cataract of rain, which seemed to have with difficulty suspended
itself only until the lady should be under cover. He stood with
his bonnet in his hand, watching for a farewell glance.
"Why don't you come in?" she said impatiently.
He was beside her in a moment.
"I didna ken ye wad lat me in," he said.
"I wouldn't have you drowned," she returned, shutting the door.
"Droont!" he repeated, "It wad tak a hantle (great deal) to droon
me. I stack to the boddom o' a whumled boat a haill nicht whan I
was but fifeteen.
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