Simultaneously they rose to make their escape.
"My lord an' my leddy maun be gauin', daddy," cried Malcolm.
Absorbed in the sound which his lungs created and his fingers
modulated, the piper had forgotten all about his visitors; but the
moment his grandson's voice reached him, the tumult ceased; he took
the port vent from his lips, and with sightless eyes turned full
on Lord Lossie, said in a low earnest voice,--
"My lort, she 'll pe ta craandest staand o' pipes she efer blew,
and proud and thankful she'll pe to her lort marquis, and to ta Lort
of lorts, for ta kift. Ta pipes shall co town from cheneration to
cheneration to ta ent of time; yes, my lort, until ta loud cry of
tem pe trownt in ta roar of ta trump of ta creat archanchel, when
he'll pe setting one foot on ta laand and ta other foot upon ta
sea, and Clenlyon shall pe cast into ta lake of fire."
He ended with a low bow. They shook hands with him, thanked him for
his music, wished him goodnight, and, with a kind nod to Malcolm,
left the cottage.
Duncan resumed his playing the moment they were out of the house,
and Malcolm, satisfied of his well being for a couple of hours at
least--he had been music starved so long, went also out, in quest
of a little solitude.
CHAPTER XXII: WHENCE AND WHITHER?
He wandered along the shore on the land side of the mound, with a
favourite old book of Scottish ballads in his hand, every now and
then stooping to gather a sea anemone--a white flower something
like a wild geranium, with a faint sweet smell, or a small, short
stalked harebell, or a red daisy, as large as a small primrose; for
along the coast there, on cliff or in sand, on rock or in field,
the daisies are remarkable for size, and often not merely tipped,
but dyed throughout with a deep red.
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