le or Shakespeare, I am
listening to the word of God, uttered in each after its kind. When the
wind blows on my face, what matter that the chymist pulls it to pieces? He
cannot hurt it, for his knowledge of it cannot make my feeling of it a
folly, so long as he cannot pull that to pieces with his retorts and
crucibles: it is to me the wind of Him who makes it blow, the sign of
something in Him, the fit emblem of His Spirit, that breathes into my
spirit the breath of life. When Mr. Graham talks to me, it is a prophet
come from God that teaches me, as certainly as if His fiery chariot were
waiting to carry him back when he had spoken; for the word he utters at
once humbles and uplifts my soul, telling it that God is all in all and my
God--and the Lord Christ is the truth and the life, and the way home to
the Father."

After a little pause, "And when you are talking to a rich, ignorant, proud
lady?" said Clementina, "what do you feel then?"

"That I would it were my Lady Clementina instead," answered Malcolm with a
smile.

She held her peace.

When he left her, Malcolm hurried to Scaurnose and arranged with Blue
Peter for his boat and crew the next night. 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 reoccupy his own.

CHAPTER LXV.

THE EVE OF THE CRISIS.

It was late in the sweetest of summer mornings when the Partan's boat
slipped slowly back with a light wind to the harbor of Portlossie. Malcolm
did not wait to land the fish, but having changed his clothes and taken
breakfast with Duncan, who was always up early, went to look after Kelpie.
When he had done with her, finding some of the household already in
motion, he went through the kitchen, and up the old corkscrew stone stair
to his room, to have the sleep he generally had before his breakfast.
Presently came a knock at his door, and there was Rose.

The girl's behavior to Malcolm was much changed. The conviction had been
strengthening in her that he was not what he seemed, and she regarded him
now with a vague awe. But there was fear in her eyes now, as she looked
this way and that along the passage, and then crept timidly inside his
door to tell him, in a hurried whisper, that she had seen the woman who
gave her the poisonous philtre talking to Caley the night before at the
foot o