"
Florimel gave him her handkerchief, and Malcolm took his leave,
saying.--"I'll be up i' the coorse o' a half hoor at farthest."
The humble devotion and absolute service of the youth, resembling
that of a noble dog, however unlikely to move admiration in Lady
Florimel's heart, could not fail to give her a quiet and welcome
pleasure. He was an inferior who could be depended upon, and
his worship was acceptable. Not a fear of his attentions becoming
troublesome ever crossed her mind. The wider and more impassable the
distinctions of rank, the more possible they make it for artificial
minds to enter into simply human relations; the easier for the oneness
of the race to assert itself, in the offering and acceptance of a
devoted service. There is more of the genuine human in the relationship
between some men and their servants, than between those men and
their own sons.
With eyes intent, and keen as those of a gazehound, Malcolm retraced
every step, up to the grated door. But no volume was to be seen.
Turning from the door of the tunnel, for which he had no Sesame,
he climbed to the foot of the wall that crossed it above, and with
a bound, a clutch at the top, a pull and a scramble, was in the
high road in a moment. From the road to the links was an easy drop,
where, starting from the grated door, he retraced their path from
the dune. Lady Florimel had dropped the book when she rose, and
Malcolm found it lying on the sand, little the worse.
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