alcolm saw, but could not believe she actually made room for him to sit
beside her--alone with her in the universe. It was too much: he dared not
believe it. And now, by one of those wondrous duplications which are not
always at least born of the fancy, the same scene in which he had found
Florimel thus seated on the slope of the dune appeared to be passing again
through Malcolm's consciousness, only instead of Florimel was Clementina,
and instead of the sun was the moon. And creature of the sunlight as
Florimel was, bright and gay and beautiful, she paled into a creature of
the cloud beside this maiden of the moonlight, tall and stately, silent
and soft and grand.

Again she made a movement. This time he could not doubt her invitation. It
was as if her soul made room in her unseen world for him to enter and sit
beside her. But who could enter heaven in his work-day garments?

"Won't you sit by me, Malcolm?" seeing his more than hesitation, she said
at last, with a slight tremble in the voice that was music itself in his
ears.

"I have been catching fish, my lady," he answered, "and my clothes must be
unpleasant. I will sit here."

He went a little lower on the slope and laid himself down, leaning on his
elbow.

"Do fresh-water fishes smell the same as the sea-fishes, Malcolm?" she
asked.

"Indeed I am not certain, my lady. Why?"

"Because if they do--You remember what you said to me as we passed the
saw-mill in the wood?"

It was by silence Malcolm showed he did remember.

"Does not this night remind you of that one at Wastbeach when we came upon
you singing?" said Clementina.

"It _is_ like it, my lady--now. But, a little ago, before I saw you, I was
thinking of that night, and thinking how different this was."

Again a moon-filled silence fell, and once more it was the lady who broke
it. "Do you know who are at the house?" she asked.

"I do, my lady," he replied.

"I had not been there more than an hour or two," she went on, "when they
arrived. I suppose Florimel--Lady Lossie--thought I would not come if she
told me she expected them."

"And would you have come, my lady?"

"I cannot endure the earl."

"Neither can I. But then I know more about him than your ladyship does,
and I am miserable for my mistress."

It stung Clementina as if her heart had taken a beat backward. But her
voice was steadier than it had yet been as she returned, "Why should you
be miserable for Lady Lossie?"

"I would di