“Fine that, my lord. There’s a ro’d up as far ’s yon neuk. An’ for this broo, I wad clear awa the lowse stanes, an’ lat the nait’ral gerse grow sweet an’ fine, an’ turn a lot o’ bonny heelan’ sheep on till ’t. I wad keep yon ae bit o’ whuns, for though they’re rouch i’ the leaf; they blaw sae gowden. Syne I wad gether a’ the bits o’ drains frae a’ sides, till I had a bonny stream o’ watter aff o’ the sweet corn lan’, rowin’ doon here whaur we stan’, an’ ower to the castel itsel’, an’ throu’ coort an’ kitchie, gurglin’ an’ rinnin’, an’ syne oot again an’ doon the face o’ the scaur, splashin’ an’ loupin’ like mad. I wad lea’ a’ the lave to Natur’ hersel’. It _wad_ be a gran’ place, my lord! An’ whan ye was tired o’ ’t, ye cud jist rin awa’ to Lossie Hoose, an’ hide ye i’ the how there for a cheenge. I wad like fine to hae the sortin’ o’ ’t for yer lordship.” “I daresay!” said the marquis. “Let’s find a nice place for our luncheon, papa, and then we can sit down and hear Malcolm’s story,” said Florimel. “Dinna ye think, my lord, it wad be better to get the baskets up first?” interposed Malcolm. “Yes, I think so. Wilson can help you.” “Na, my lord; he canna lea’ the cutter. The tide’s risin, an’ she’s ower near the rocks.” “Well, well; we shan’t want lunch for an hour yet, so you can take your time.” “But ye maun taik kent, my lord, hoo ye gang amo’ the ruins. There’s awkward kin’ o’ holes aboot thae vouts, an’ jist whaur ye think there’s nane. I dinna a’thegither like yer gaein’ wantin’ me.” “Nonsense! Go along,” said the marquis. “But I’m no jokin’,” persisted Malcolm. “Yes, yes; we’ll be careful,” returned his master impatiently, and Malcolm ran down the hill, but not altogether satisfied with the assurance. CHAPTER XL. THE DEIL’S WINNOCK. Florimel was disappointed, for she longed to hear Malcolm’s tale. But amid such surroundings it was not so very difficult to wait. They set out to have a peep at the ruins, and choose a place for luncheon. From the point where they stood, looking seawards, the ground sunk to the narrow isthmus supposed by Malcolm to fill a cleft formerly crossed by a drawbridge, and, beyond it, rose again to the grassy mounds in which lay so many of the old bones of the ruined carcass.