He rose and ran for the bored craig, through which lay the straight
line to his abandoned boots.
As he approached the rock, he heard the voices of Lord Lossie
and Lady Florimel, who, although the one had not yet verified her
being, the other had almost ruined his, were nevertheless enjoying
the same thing, the sweetness of the night, together. Not hearing
Malcolm's approach, they went on talking, and as he was passing
swiftly through the bore, he heard these words from the marquis,
--"The world's an ill baked cake, Flory, and all that a woman, at
least, can do, is to cut as large a piece of it as possible, for
immediate use."
The remark being a general one, Malcolm cannot be much blamed if
he stood with one foot lifted to hear Florimel's reply.
"If it 's an ill baked one, papa," she returned, "I think it would
be better to cut as small a piece of it as will serve for immediate
use."
Malcolm was delighted with her answer, never thinking whether it
came from her head or her heart, for the two were at one in himself.
As soon as he appeared on the other side of the rock, the marquis
challenged him: "Who goes there?" he said.
"Malcolm MacPhail, my lord."
"You rascal!" said his lordship, good humouredly; "you've been
listening!"
"No muckle, my lord. I heard but a word apiece. An' I maun say my
leddy had the best o' the loagic."
"My lady generally has, I suspect," laughed the marquis. "How long
have you been in the rock there?"
"No ae meenute, my lord.
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