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When Mistress Catanach arrived at the opening of a street which was just opposite her own door, and led steep toward the sea town, she stood, and shading her eyes with her hooded hand, although the sun was far behind her, looked out to sea. It was the forenoon of a day of early summer.
"Deil a bit, my lord! that is, I'm no feart at a dogfish or a rottan, but I wud tak tent an' grip them the richt gait, for they hae teeth. Some fowk think Mistress Catanach has mair teeth nor she shaws." "Well, if she's too much for me, I'll send for you," said the marquis good humouredly. "Ye canna get me sae easy, my lord: we're efter the herrin' noo." "Well, well, we'll see."
Catanach was bent on an exploration, she was for the time prevented from prosecuting it by the approach of the first of the worshippers, whose voices they now plainly heard. She retreated towards the middle of the cave, and sat down in a dark corner, closing her lantern and hiding it with the skirt of her long cloak.
If she tid put know ta paad blood was pe in you, she wouldn't pe tone you ta wrong as pring you up." "That's a wrang no ill to forgi'e, daddy. But it's a pity ye didna lat me lie, for maybe syne Mistress Catanach wad hae broucht me up hersel', an' I micht hae come to something." "Weel, ye see what ye hae saved me frae."
"Deep calleth unto deep! The wind is blowing on the slain! The Spirit is breathing on the dry bones!" shouted the preacher in an ecstacy. But one who rose from behind Lizzy Findlay, had arrived at another theory regarding the origin of the commotion and doubtless had a right to her theory, in as much as she was a woman of experience, being no other than Mrs Catanach.
She flew at the hound, which Lady Florimel was in vain attempting to drag from the cur, and seized him by the throat. "Take care; he is dangerous!" cried the girl. Finding she had no power upon him, Mrs Catanach forsook him, and, in despairing fury, rushed at his mistress.
Malcolm was busied with something in the bed, and when she turned, Mrs Catanach saw only the white face of hatred gleaming through the darkness. "Ye auld donnert deevil!" she cried, with an addition too coarse to be set down, and threw herself upon him.
On the other side sat Caley, in suppressed exultation, for here came what she had been waiting for the first fruits of certain arrangements between her and Mrs Catanach. She greeted Malcolm distantly, but neither disdainfully nor spitefully.
Catanach glided out with her usual downy step, gave a wink as of mutual intelligence to the group at the door, and vanished. On Malcolm's arm lay the head of a young girl. Her thin, worn countenance was stained with tears and livid with suffocation. She was recovering, but her eyes rolled stupid and visionless. "It's Phemy, my lord Blue Peter's lassie, 'at was tint," said Malcolm.
That Mrs Catanach at the same time could not be ignorant of what had become of the child born to him, he was all but certain; for, on that night when Malcolm and he found her in the wizard's chamber, had she not proved her strange story of having been carried to that very room blindfolded, and, after sole attendance on the birth of a child, whose mother's features, even in her worst pains, she had not once seen, in like manner carried away again, had she not proved the story true by handing him the ring she had drawn from the lady's finger, and sewn, for the sake of future identification, into the lower edge of one of the bed curtains which ring was a diamond he had given his wife from his own finger when they parted?
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