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Updated: September 28, 2025
'You insult me! said Phemy. 'Ye drive me to speyk plain! answered Kirsty. 'That lad, Francie Gordon, 'Speak with respect of your superiors, interrupted Phemy. 'I'll speyk wi' respec o' ony body I hae respec for! answered Kirsty. 'Let me pass, you rude young woman! cried Phemy, who had of late been cultivating in her imagination such speech as she thought would befit Mrs.
Tell him it's me, Phemy." A brief pause followed; then Phemy's voice answered: "Come awa' doon. He says ye s' be welcome." "Canna ye shaw a licht than; for I dinna ken a fit o' the ro'd," said Malcolm. The next moment a light appeared at some little distance below, and presently began to ascend, borne by Phemy, towards the place where he stood.
Some of my readers may care to know that Phemy and Davy were married, and made the quaintest, oldest-fashioned little couple, with hearts which king and beggar might equally have trusted. Malcolm's relations with the fisher-folk, founded as they were in truth and open uprightness, were not in the least injured by his change of position.
He insisted on occupying his new quarters at once. In vain Phemy and her uncle showed reason against it. He did not want a bed; he much preferred a heap of spies, that is, wood shavings. Indeed, he would not have a bed; and whatever he did want he would get for himself.
And now came the snow, filling the wind faster and faster, until at length the frightful blasts had in them, perhaps, more bulk of blinding and dizzying snowflakes than of the air which drove them. They threatened between them to fix her there in a pillar of snow. It would have been terrible indeed for Phemy on that waste hillside, but that the cold and the tempest speedily stupefied her.
About half-way home, on the side of a hill, across which a low wind, the long death-moan of autumn, blew with a hopeless, undulant, but not intermittent wail among the heather, Kirsty broke into a passionate fit of weeping, but ere she reached home all traces of her tears had vanished. Gordon did not go the next day, nor the day after, but he never saw Phemy again.
He had at length seated himself on a lichen covered stone with his head buried in his hands, as if, wearied with vain search for him outside he would now look within and see if God might not be there, when suddenly a sharp exclamation from Phemy reached him. He listened. "Rin! rin! rin!" she cried the last word prolonged into a scream.
"There may be, though," resumed Phemy. "It gangs back a lang road. I hae never been in sicht o' the cud o' 't. It comes doon verra laich in some places, and gangs up heich again in ithers, but nae sign o' an en' till 't." "Is there ony soon' o' watter intill 't?" asked Malcolm. "Na, nane at ever I hard. But I'll tell ye what I hae hard: I hae hard the flails gaein' thud, thud, abune my heid."
When not at work, he was constantly reading. Most people close a book without having gained from it a single germ of thought; Mr. Craig seldom opened one without falling directly into a brown study over something suggested by it. But I believe that, even when thus absorbed, Phemy was never far from his thought.
Things were going pretty well with the laird: Phemy and he drew. yet closer to each other, and as he became yet more peaceful in her company, his thoughts flowed more freely, and his utterance grew less embarrassed; until at length, in talking with her, his speech was rarely broken with even a slight impediment, and a stranger might have overheard a long conversation between them without coming to any more disparaging conclusion in regard to him than that the hunchback was peculiar in mind as well as in body.
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