As soon as all was over, Malcolm set out to return home. As he passed Joseph Mair’s cottage, he found Phemy waiting for him at the door, still in the mild splendour of her pearl-like necklace. “I tellt the laird what ye tellt me to tell him, Malcolm,” she said. “An’ what did he say, Phemy?” asked Malcolm. “He said he kent ye was a freen’.” “Was that a’?” “Ay; that was a’.” “Weel, ye’re a guid lassie.” “Ow! middlin’,” answered the little maiden. Malcolm took his way along the top of the cliffs, pausing now and then to look around him. The crescent moon had gone down, leaving a star-lit night, in which the sea lay softly moaning at the foot of the broken crags. The sense of infinitude which comes to the soul when it is in harmony with the peace of nature, arose and spread itself abroad in Malcolm’s being, and he felt with the Galilæans of old, when they forsook their nets and followed him who called them, that catching fish was not the end of his being, although it was the work his hands had found to do. The stillness was all the sweeter for its contrast with the merriment he had left behind him, and a single breath of wind, like the waft from a passing wing, kissed his forehead tenderly, as if to seal the truth of his meditations. CHAPTER XXIX. FLORIMEL AND DUNCAN. In the course of a fortnight, Lord Meikleham and his aunt, the bold-faced countess, had gone, and the marquis, probably finding it a little duller in consequence, began to pay visits in the neighbourhood. Now and then he would be absent for a week or two--at Bog o’ Gight, or Huntly Lodge, or Frendraught, or Balvenie--and although Lady Florimel had not much of his society, she missed him at meals, and felt the place grown dreary from his being nowhere within its bounds. On his return from one of his longer absences, he began to talk to her about a governess; but, though in a playful way, she rebelled utterly at the first mention of such an incubus. She had plenty of material for study, she said, in the library, and plenty of amusement in wandering about with the sullen Demon, who was her constant companion during his absences; and if he did force a governess upon her, she would certainly murder the woman, if only for the sake of bringing him into trouble. Her easygoing father was amused, laughed, and said nothing more on the subject at the time.