“Then why,” said Lady Florimel, with the conscious right of social superiority to administer good counsel,--“why don’t you work harder, and get a better house, and wear better clothes?” Malcolm’s mind was so full of far other and weightier things that the question bewildered him; but he grappled with the reference to his clothes. “’Deed, my leddy,” he returned, “ye may weel say that, seein’ ye was never aboord a herrin’ boat! but gien ye ance saw the inside o’ ane fu’ o’ fish, whaur a body gangs slidderin’ aboot, maybe up to the middle o’ ’s leg in wamlin’ herrin’, an’ the neist meenute, maybe, weet to the skin wi’ the splash o’ a muckle jaw (_wave_), ye micht think the claes guid eneuch for the wark--though ill fit, I confess wi’ shame, to come afore yer leddyship.” “I thought you only fished about close by the shore in a little boat; I didn’t know you went with the rest of the fishermen: that’s very dangerous work--isn’t it?” “No _ower_ dangerous my leddy. There’s some gangs doon ilka sizzon; but it’s a’ i’ the w’y o’ yer wark.” “Then how is it you’re not gone fishing to-night?” “She’s a new boat, an’ there’s anither day’s wark on her afore we win oot.--Wadna ye like a row the nicht, my leddy?” “No, certainly; it’s much too late.” “It’ll be nane mirker nor ’tis; but I reckon ye’re richt. I cam ower by jist to see whether ye wadna like to gang wi’ the boats a bit; but yer leddyship set me aff thinkin’, an’ that pat it oot o’ my heid.” “It’s too late now anyhow. Come to-morrow evening, and I’ll see if I can’t go with you.” “I canna, my leddy--that’s the fash o’ ’t! I maun gang wi’ Blue Peter the morn’s nicht. It was my last chance, I’m sorry to say.” “It’s not of the slightest consequence,” Lady Florimel returned; and, bidding him good-night, she shut and locked the door. The same instant she vanished, for the tunnel was now quite dark. Malcolm turned with a sigh, and took his way slowly homeward along the top of the dune. All was dim about him--dim in the heavens, where a thin veil of gray had gathered over the blue; dim on the ocean, where the stars swayed and swung, in faint flashes of dissolving radiance, cast loose like ribbons of sea-weed; dim all along the shore, where the white of the breaking wavelet melted into the yellow sand; and dim in his own heart, where the manner and words of the lady had half hidden her starry reflex with a chilling mist. CHAPTER XXIV. THE FEAST.