Her father looked at her for a moment, said to himself--"There
spoke a Colonsay!" and pursued the subject no further.
When they passed Mrs Catanach's cottage an hour after, on their
way to the harbour, they saw the blinds drawn down, as if a dead
man lay within: according to after report, she had the brute already
laid out like a human being, and sat by the bedside awaiting a
coffin which she had ordered of Watty Witherspail.
CHAPTER XXXIX: COLONSAY CASTLE
The day continued lovely, with a fine breeze. The whole sky and
air and sea were alive--with moving clouds, with wind, with waves
flashing in the sun. As they stepped on board amidst the little
crowd gathered to see, Lady Florimel could hardly keep her delight
within the bounds of so called propriety. It was all she could do
to restrain herself from dancing on the little deck half swept by
the tiller. The boat of a schooner which lay at the quay towed them
out of the harbour. Then the creature spread her wings like a bird
--mainsail and gaff topsail, staysail and jib--leaped away to
leeward, and seemed actually to bound over the waves. Malcolm sat
at the tiller, and Blue Peter watched the canvas.
Lady Florimel turned out to be a good sailor, and her enjoyment was
so contagious as even to tighten certain strings about her father's
heart which had long been too slack to vibrate with any simple
gladness. Her questions were incessant--first about the sails
and rigging, then about the steering; but when Malcolm proceeded
to explain how the water reacted on the rudder, she declined to
trouble herself with that.
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