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"So you won't forgive my father, Mr MacPhail?" said Lady Florimel. "She would forgife any man put two men," he answered, " Clenlyon, and ta man, whoefer he might pe, who would put upon her ta tiscrace of trinking in his company." "But you're quite mistaken," said Lady Florimel, in a pleading tone. "I don't believe my father knows the gentleman you speak of." "Chentleman!" echoed Duncan.
A note fell, and she handed it to her mistress. Florimel opened it, grew pale as she read it, and asked Caley to bring her a glass of water. No sooner had her maid left the room than she sprang to the door and bolted it. Then the tears burst from her eyes, she sobbed despairingly, and but for the help of her handkerchief would have wailed aloud.
What's fa'en, div ye think?" "Nobody knows. It fell with a noise like thunder, and shook the whole house." "It's far ower dark to see onything frae the ootside," rejoined Malcolm, "at least afore the mune's up. It's as dark's pick. But I can sune saitisfee mysel' whether the deil 's i' the hoose or no." He took a candle from the hall table, and went up the square staircase, followed by Florimel.
Florimel came to the door to see her, accompanied by Liftore, and was so delighted with the very sight of her that she sent at once to the stables for her own horse, that she might ride out attended by Malcolm. His lordship also ordered his horse. They went straight to Rotten Row for a little gallop, and Kelpie was behaving very well for her.
The very spirit of freedom seemed to wave his wings about the yacht, fanning full her sails. Florimel breathed as if she never could have enough of the sweet wind; each breath gave her all the boundless region whence it blew; she gazed as if she would fill her soul with the sparkling gray of the water, the sun melted blue of the sky, and the incredible green of the flat shores.
So she had to content herself with bringing the two girls together, and, when Lizzy was a little rested, and had had a glass of wine, went to look for Florimel. She found her in a little room adjoining the library, which, on her first coming to Lossie, she had chosen for her waking nest.
When they left the park, Florimel went down Constitution Hill, and turning westward, rode to Chelsea. As they approached Mr Lenorme's house, she stopped and said to Malcolm "I am going to run in and thank Mr Lenorme for the trouble he has been at about the horse. Which is the house?" She pulled up at the gate.
"I tell you for the last time, my lady," said Malcolm, "if you marry that man, you will marry a liar and a scoundrel." Liftore laughed, and his imitation of scorn was wonderfully successful, for he felt sure of Florimel, now that she had thus taken his part. "Shall I ring for the servants, Lady Lossie, to put the fellow out?" he said. "The man is as mad as a March hare."
My reader may well judge that Malcolm could not have been very far gone in love, seeing he was thus able to read, remark in return that it was not merely the distance between him and Lady Florimel that had hitherto preserved his being from absorption and his will from annihilation, but also the strength of his common sense, and the force of his individuality.
For one moment she struggled, but finding no one dared interfere, submitted, and was led from the room like a naughty child. "Keep my lord there till I return," he said as he went. He led her into the room which had been her mother's boudoir, and when he had shut the door, "Florimel," he said, "I have striven to serve you the best way I knew.
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