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Updated: May 14, 2025
He had bought a ponderous gold watch, which he continually neglected to wind; the years of stage driving had sated him of horses; his clothes were already a subject of jest in Greenstream; and he had seriously damaged his throat, and the throat of Sim Caley, with cigars.
"I don't want to call him at all," she protested, a little wildly. "I don't like him to-night; perhaps to-morrow I will feel different." "Well, do or don't, that dog's a part of the house, and I don't want to hear Mrs. Caley say this or that about it, neither." "Mrs. Caley isn't as bad as you make her out; it's me she's thinking about most of the time.
"You shall have it from the hands of my fishermen. Take him away." "You shall hear from me, my lord marquis, if such you be," said Liftore. "Let it be of your repentance, then, my lord," said Malcolm. "That I shall be glad to hear of." As he turned from him he saw Caley gliding through the little group of servants toward the door.
The window was open, and a breath of early summer drifted in a breath of palpable sweetness. Mrs. Caley entered and bent over the bed, an angular, black silhouette against the white. She left without a word. If Lettice died he, Gordon Makimmon, would have killed her, he had killed more ... he recognized that clearly.
The evening drew its gauze over the valley, the shrill, tenuous chorus of insects had begun for the night, the gold caps were dissolving from the eastern peaks. He saw Simeon Caley at the stable door; Sim avoided him, moving behind a corner of the shed. His pending sense of blood-guiltiness deepened. The impulse returned to flee, to vanish in the engulfing wild of the mountains.
Returning to his grandfather, he found a note waiting him from Mrs Courthope, to the effect that, as Miss Caley, her ladyship's maid, had preferred another room, there was no reason why, if he pleased, he should not re-occupy his own. It was late in the sweetest of summer mornings when the Partan's boat slipped slowly back with a light wind to the harbour of Portlossie.
"I wish you hadn't been there, Gordon. You always seem to be around, to get talked about, when anything happens." He saw that she was irritable, in a mood for complaint, and he rose. "You mean Mrs. Caley talks wherever I am," he corrected. He left the porch and walked over the road to the village.
She never addressed a word to Gordon directly; and, he decided, when she did, it would be monumental, dumbfounding. The present moment was more than usually unpropitious; and, discovering General Jackson at his heels, he picked the dog up and departed for the stable, where he saw Sim Caley putting the horse into the buggy.
The earnestness of his tone struck Florimel. She looked at him with eyes a little wider, and waited to hear. "I happened to look up at the drawing room windows, my lady, and Caley came to one of them with such a look on her face! I can't exactly describe it to you, my lady, but " "Why do you tell me?" interrupted his mistress, with absolute composure, and hard, questioning eyes.
Hollidew, he knew, seldom visited his outlying acres, then only in the collection of rents or profits they lay too far from his iron chest, from the communication of the Stenton banks. Gordon knew Sim Caley, and, suddenly, he decided to visit him; the trout would afford the Caleys and himself an ample repast.
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