But they say he's taen sic a
scunner (disgust) at his mither, that he canna bide the verra word
o' mither; he jist cries oot whan he hears 't."
"It seems clearing," said Florimel.
"I doobt it's only haudin' up for a wee," returned Malcolm, after
surveying as much of the sky as was visible through the bars; "but
I do think ye had better run for the hoose, my leddy. I s' jist
follow ye, a feow yairds ahin', till I see ye safe. Dinna ye be
feared--I s' tak guid care: I wadna hae ye seen i' the company
o' a fisher lad like me."
There was no doubting the perfect simplicity with which this was
said, and the girl took no exception. They left the tunnel, and
skirting the bottom of the little hill on which stood the temple
of the winds, were presently in the midst of a young wood, through
which a gravelled path led towards the House. But they had not gone
far ere a blast of wind, more violent than any that had preceded
it, smote the wood, and the trees, young larches and birches and
sycamores, bent streaming before it. Lady Florimel turned to see
where Malcolm was, and her hair went from her like a Maenad's,
while her garments flew fluttering and straining, as if struggling
to carry her off. She had never in her life before been out in a
storm, and she found the battle joyously exciting. The roaring of
the wind in the trees was grand; and what seemed their terrified
struggles while they bowed and writhed and rose but to bow again,
as in mad effort to unfix their earthbound roots and escape, took
such sympathetic hold of her imagination, that she flung out her
arms, and began to dance and whirl as if herself the genius of the
storm.
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