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Updated: June 3, 2025
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.
Then she called aloud after the flying girl, "My leddy! My bonny leddy!" Florimel paid no heed, but ran straight for the door of the tunnel, and vanished. Thence leisurely climbing to the temple of the winds, she looked down from a height of safety upon the shore and the retreating figure of Mrs. Catanach.
"God lay me deid i' my sins gien he be onything but a bastard Cawm'ell!" she asseverated with a laugh of demoniacal scorn. Na, ye wad nane o' me! A torrent of Gaelic broke from Duncan, into the midst of which rushed another from Mrs Catanach, similar, but coarse in vowel and harsh in consonant sounds. The marquis stepped into the room. "What is the meaning of all this?" he said with dignity.
That night he would go fishing with Lady Clementina, but not one day longer would he allow those people to be about his sister. Who could tell what might not be brewing, or into what abyss, with the help of her friends, the woman Catanach might not plunge Florimel? He rose, took Kelpie out, and had a good gallop. On his way back he saw in the distance Florimel riding with Liftore.
Catanach, type and embodiment of the horrors that haunt the dignity of death, came walking toward him like one at home, her great round body lighty upborne on her soft foot. It was no time to challenge her presence, and yielding her the half of the narrow way he passed without a greeting. She dropped him a courtesy with an up-look and again a veiling of her wicked eyes.
Malcolm thought he was making game of him as heretofore, and held his peace. "You can go home now," said his lordship. "I will see to this affair." "But jist be canny middlin' wi' Mistress Catanach, my lord: she's no mowse." "What! you're not afraid of an old woman?"
She had written to him within the last month a very hot letter indeed, which had afforded no end of amusement to Mrs Catanach, as she sat in his old lodging over the curiosity shop, but, I need hardly say, had not reached Malcolm: and now there was but one night, and the best of all the fisher families would have nowhere to lie down!
Her companion had already fled, and Mrs Catanach picked up her lantern and followed. But her flight was soft footed, and gave sign only in the sound of her garments, and a clank or two of her keys. Gifted with a good sense of relative position, Malcolm was able to find his way back to the hall without much difficulty, and met no one on the way.
He would have gone back by the river side to the sea gate, but Mrs Courthope having waived her right to the fish in favour of Mrs Catanach, he felt bound to give her another chance, and so returned the way he had come. "Here's yer troot, Mistress Cat'nach," he called aloud at her door, which generally stood a little ajar.
Knowing whither they were bound, and even better acquainted with the place than Malcolm himself; Mrs Catanach, the moment she had drawn down her blinds in mourning for her dog, had put her breakfast in her pocket, and set out from her back door, contriving mischief on her way.
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