... His volant touch, Instinct through all proportions, low and high, Fled and pursued transverse the resonant fugue. Hear till ’t! It’s gran’--even though ye dinna ken what it means a bit.” “I do know what it means,” said Florimel. “Let me see: _volant_ means --what does _volant_ mean?” “It means _fleein’_, I suppose.” “Well, he means some musician or other.” “Of coorse: it maun be Jubal--I ken a’ the words but _fugue_; though I canna tell what business _instinct_ an’ _proportions_ hae there.” “It’s describing how the man’s fingers, playing a fugue--on the organ, I suppose,----” “A _fugue_ ’ll be some kin’ o’ a tune, than? That casts a heap o’ licht on ’t, my leddy--I never saw an organ: what is ’t like?” “Something like a pianoforte.” “But I never saw ane o’ them either. It’s ill makin’ things a’thegither oot o’ yer ain heid.” “Well, it’s played with the fingers--like this,” said Florimel. “And the fugue is a kind of piece where one part pursues the other, ----” “An’ syne,” cried Malcolm eagerly, “that ane turns roon’ an’ rins efter the first;--that’ll be ‘_fled and pursued transverse_.’ I hae ’t! I hae ’t! See, my leddy, what it is to hae sic schoolin’, wi’ music an’ a’! The _proportions_--that’s the relation o’ the notes to ane anither; an’ _fugue_--that comes frae _fugere, to flee_, --‘_fled_ and pursued transverse the resonant fugue’--the tane rinnin’ efter the tither, roon’ an’ roon’. Ay, I hae ’t noo!-- _Resonant_--that’s _echoing_ or _resounding_. But what’s _instinct_, my leddy? It maun be an adjective, I’m thinkin’.” Although the modesty of Malcolm had led him to conclude the girl immeasurably his superior in learning because she could tell him what a fugue was, he soon found she could help him no further, for she understood scarcely anything about grammar, and her vocabulary was limited enough. Not a doubt interfered, however, with her acceptance of the imputed superiority; for it is as easy for some to assume as it is for others to yield. “I hae ’t! It _is_ an adjective,” cried Malcolm, after a short pause of thought. “It’s the _touch_ that’s _instinct_. But I fancy there sud be a comma efter _instinct_.--His fingers were sae used till ’t that they could ’maist do the thing o’ themsels--Isna ’t lucky, my leddy, that I thocht o’ sayin’ ’t ower to _you_! I’ll read the buik frae the beginnin’,--it’s the neist to the last, I think,--jist to come upo’ the twa lines i’ their ain place, ohn their expeckin’ me like, an’ see hoo gran’ they soon’ whan a body unnerstan’s them. Thank ye, my leddy.” “I suppose you read Milton to your grandfather?” “Ay, sometimes--i’ the lang fore-nights.” “What do you mean by the _fore-nights_?”