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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Malcolm"


But might she not repent? Ah, then, indeed! And might he not help
her to repent?--He would not avoid her. How was it that she had
never yet sought him?
As he brooded thus, on his way to Duncan's cottage, and, heedless
of the sound of coming wheels, was crossing the road which went
along the bottom of the glen, he was nearly run over by a carriage
coming round the corner of a high bank at a fast trot Catching one
glimpse of the face of its occupant, as it passed within a yard
of his own, he turned and fled back through the woods, with again
a horrible impulse to howl to the winds the cry of the mad laird:
"I dinna ken whaur I cam frae!" When he came to himself, he found
his hands pressed hard on his ears, and for a moment felt a sickening
certainty that he too was a son of the lady of Gersefell.
When he returned at length to the House, Mrs Courthope informed
him that Mrs Stewart had called, and seen both the marquis and Lady
Florimel.
Meantime he had grown again a little anxious about the laird,
but as Phemy plainly avoided him, had concluded that he had found
another concealment, and that the child preferred not being questioned
concerning it.
With the library of Lossie House at his disposal, and almost nothing
to do, it might now have been a grand time for Malcolm's studies;
but alas! he too often found it all but impossible to keep his
thoughts on the track of a thought through a single sentence of
any length.
The autumn now hung over the verge of its grave.


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