LORD LIFTORE.
The chief cause of Malcolm’s anxiety had been, and perhaps still was,
Lord Liftore. In his ignorance of Mr Lenorme there might lie equal
cause with him, but he knew such evil of the other that his whole
nature revolted against the thought of his marrying his sister. At
Lossie he had made himself agreeable to her, and now, if not actually
living in the same house, he was there at all hours of the day.
It took nothing from his anxiety to see that his lordship was greatly
improved. Not only had the lanky youth passed into a well-formed
man, but in countenance, whether as regarded expression, complexion,
or feature, he was not merely a handsomer but looked in every way a
healthier and better man. Whether it was from some reviving sense of
duty, or that, in his attachment to Florimel, he had begun to cherish a
desire of being worthy of her, I cannot tell; but he looked altogether
more of a man than the time that had elapsed would have given ground
to expect, even had he then seemed on the mend, and indeed promised to
become a really fine-looking fellow. His features were far more regular
if less _informed_ than those of the painter, and his carriage prouder
if less graceful and energetic. His admiration of and consequent
attachment to Florimel had been growing ever since his visit to Lossie
House the preceding summer, and if he had said nothing quite definite,
it was only because his aunt represented the impolicy of declaring
himself just yet: she was too young. She judged thus, attributing her
evident indifference to an incapacity as yet for falling in love.
Hence, beyond paying her all sorts of attentions and what compliments
he was capable of constructing, Lord Liftore had not gone far towards
making himself understood--at least, not until just before Malcolm’s
arrival, when his behaviour had certainly grown warmer and more
confidential.
All the time she had been under his aunt’s care he had had abundant
opportunity for recommending himself, and he had made use of the
privilege. For one thing, credibly assured that he looked well in the
saddle, he had constantly encouraged Florimel’s love of riding and
desire to become a thorough horsewoman, and they had ridden a good
deal together in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh. This practice they
continued as much as possible after they came to London early in the
spring; but the weather of late had not been favourable, and Florimel
had been very little out with him.
For a long time Lady Bellair had had her mind set on a match between
the daughter of her old friend the Marquis of Lossie and her nephew,
and it was with this in view that, when invited to Lossie House, she
had begged leave to bring Lord Meikleham with her. The young man was
from the first sufficiently taken with the beautiful girl to satisfy
his aunt, and would even then have shown greater fervour in _his_
attentions, had he not met Lizzy Findlay at the wedding of Joseph
Mair’s sister, and found her more than pleasing. I will not say that
from the first he purposed wrong to her: he was too inexperienced in
the ways of evil for that; but even when he saw plainly enough to
what their mutual attraction was tending, he gave himself no trouble
to resist it; and through the whole unhappy affair had not had one
smallest struggle with himself for the girl’s sake. To himself he was
all in all as yet, and such was his opinion of his own precious being,
that, had he thought about it, he would have considered the honour of
his attentions far more than sufficient to make up to any girl in such
a position for whatever mishap his acquaintance might bring upon her.
What were the grief and mortification of parents to put in the balance
against his condescension? what the shame and the humiliation of the
girl herself compared with the honour of having been shone upon for
a period, however brief, by his enamoured countenance? Must not even
the sorrow attendant upon her loss be rendered more than endurable--be
radiantly consoled by the memory that she had held such a demigod in
her arms? When he left her at last, with many promises, not one of
which he ever had the intention of fulfilling, he did purpose sending
her a present. But at that time he was poor--dependent, indeed, for
his pocket-money upon his aunt; and, up to this hour, he had never
since his departure from Lossie House taken the least notice of her
either by gift or letter. He had taken care also that it should not
be in her power to write to him, and now he did not even know that he
was a father. Once or twice the possibility of such being the case
occurred to him, and he thought within himself that if he were, and
it should come to be talked of, it might, in respect of his present
hopes, be awkward and disagreeable; for, although such a predicament
was nowise unusual, in this instance the circumstances were. More
than one of his bachelor friends had a small family even, but then it
was in the regular way of an open and understood secret: the fox had
his nest in some pleasant nook, adroitly masked, where lay his vixen
and her brood; one day he would abandon them for ever, and, with such
gathered store of experience, set up for a respectable family man. A
few tears, a neat legal arrangement, and all would be as it had never
been, only that the blood of the Montmorencies or Cliffords would
meander unclaimed in this or that obscure channel, beautifying the
race, and rousing England to noble deeds! But in his case it would be
unpleasant--a little--that every one of his future tenantry should
know the relation in which he stood to a woman of the fisher-people.
He did not fear any resentment--not that he would have cared a straw
for it, on such trifling grounds, but people in their low condition
never thought anything of such slips on the part of their women
especially where a great man was concerned. What he did fear was that
the immediate relations of the woman--that was how he spoke of Lizzy
to himself --might presume upon the honour he had done them. Lizzy,
however, was a good girl, and had promised to keep the matter secret
until she heard from him, whatever might be the consequences; and
surely there was fascination enough in the holding of a secret with
such as he to enable her to keep her promise. She must be perfectly
aware, however appearances might be against him, that he was not one to
fail in appreciation of her conduct, however easy and natural all that
he required of her might be. He would requite her royally when he was
Lord of Lossie. Meantime, although it was even now in his power to make
her rich amends, he would prudently leave things as they were, and not
run the risk that must lie in opening communications.
And so the young earl held his head high, looked as innocent as may be
desirable for a gentleman, had many a fair clean hand laid in his, and
many a maiden waist yielded to his arm, while “the woman” flitted about
half an alien amongst her own, with his child wound in her old shawl of
Lossie tartan; wandering not seldom in the gloaming when her little one
slept, along the top of the dune, with the wind blowing keen upon her
from the regions of eternal ice, sometimes the snow settling softly on
her hair, sometimes the hailstones nestling in its meshes; the skies
growing blacker about her, and the sea stormier, while hope retreated
so far into the heavenly regions, that hope and heaven both were lost
to her view. Thus, alas! the things in which he was superior to her,
most of all that he was a gentleman, while she was but a peasant girl--
the things whose witchery drew her to his will, he made the means
of casting her down from the place of her excellency into the mire
of shame and loss. The only love worthy of the name ever and always
uplifts.
Of the people belonging to the upper town of Portlossie, which raised
itself high above the sea-town in other respects besides the topical,
there were none who did not make poor Lizzy feel they were aware of her
disgrace, and but one man who made her feel it by being kinder than
before. That man, strange to say, was the factor. With all his faults
he had some chivalry, and he showed it to the fisher-girl. Nor did he
alter his manner to her because of the rudeness with which her mother
had taken Malcolm’s part.
It was a sore proof to Mr Crathie that his discharged servant was in
favour with the marchioness when the order came from Mr Soutar to send
up Kelpie. She had written to himself when she wanted her own horse;
now she sent for this brute through her lawyer. It was plain that
Malcolm had been speaking against him; and he was the more embittered
therefore against his friends.
Since his departure he had been twice on the point of poisoning the
mare.
It was with difficulty he found two men to take her to Aberdeen. There
they had an arduous job to get her on board and secure her. But it had
been done, and all the Monday night Malcolm was waiting her arrival at
the wharf--alone, for after what had passed between them, he would not
ask Peter to go with him, and besides he was no use with horses. At
length, in the grey of a gurly dawn, the smack came alongside. They had
had a rough passage, and the mare was considerably subdued by sickness,
so that there was less difficulty in getting her ashore, and she paced
for a little while in tolerable quietness. But with every step on dry
land, the evil spirit in her awoke, and soon Malcolm had to dismount
and lead her. The morning was little advanced, and few vehicles
were about, otherwise he could hardly have got her home uninjured,
notwithstanding the sugar with which he had filled a pocket. Before he
reached the mews he was very near wishing he had never seen her. But
when he led her into the stable, he was a little encouraged as well as
surprised to find that she had not forgotten Florimel’s horse. They had
always been a little friendly, and now they greeted each other with an
affectionate neigh; after which, with the help of all she could devour,
the demoness was quieter.