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Updated: May 14, 2025
He jest come a sailin' into th' harbor, with every mite o' sail the old brig 'd carry, two days afore Caley was born. An' the next mornin', oh, dear me! it don't seem no longer ago 'n yesterday, while he was a dressin', an' I lay lookin' at him, he tossed that little thing over to me on the bed, 'n' sez he, "
Malcolm obeyed, a little smile playing about the corners of his mouth. Caley saw it as he passed, and hated him yet worse. He was in his own clothes, booted and belted, in two minutes. Three sufficed to replace his father's garments in the portmanteau, and in three more he and Kelpie went plunging past his mistress and her maid as they drove home in their lumbering vehicle.
"You cannot go wrong now, my lady," said Malcolm. "If you please I will go no farther." "Do you not live in the house?" she asked. "I used to do as I liked, and could be there or with my grandfather. I did mean to be at the House tonight, but my lady has given my room to her maid." "What! that woman Caley?" "I suppose so, my lady. I must sleep tonight in the village.
How on earth did MacPhail come to be there as well? From you, Caley, I will not conceal that his lordship behaved indiscreetly; in fact he was rude; and I can quite imagine that MacPhail thought it his duty to defend me. It is all very awkward for me. Who could have imagined him there, and sitting behind amongst the pictures! It almost makes me doubt whether Mr Lenorme be really gone."
I will not try to describe the devilish look, mingled of contempt and hate, that possessed the countenance of the midwife as, with head erect and eyes looking straight before her, she obeyed the command. Caley, white as death, trembled and tottered, nor dared once look up as she followed her companion to their appointed hell.
She positively must, she said, secure her father's portrait ere the ill tempered painter all men of genius were hasty and unreasonable should have destroyed it utterly, as he was certain to do before leaving and with that she showed her Lenorme's letter. Caley was all service, only said that this time she thought they had better go openly.
I hasten over this part of Florimel's history, for that confession to Caley was perhaps the one thing in her life she had most reason to be ashamed of, for she was therein false to the being she thought she loved best in the world. Could Lenorme have known her capable of unbosoming herself to such a woman, it would almost have slain the love he bore her.
"This is General Jackson," Gordon explained out of the settling dark; "he'd thank you for a panful of supper. Come on, General, come on in the kitchen. No, Mrs. Caley won't bite you; she'll give us something to eat." The room next to the kitchen, that had been Clare's, had been stripped of its furnishing, and a glistening yellow pine table set in the middle, with six painted wood chairs.
That night she was merrier than usual at dinner; after it, sang ballad after ballad to please Liftore; then went to her room and told Caley to arrange for yet a visit, the next morning, to Mr Lenorme's studio.
This girl she now sought, and from her learned all she knew about Malcolm. Pursuing her enquiries into the nature and composition of the household, however, Mrs Catanach soon discovered a far more capable and indeed less scrupulous associate and instrument in Caley.
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