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"Will you come to your brother, Florimel?" said Malcolm tenderly, holding out his arms. Lenorme raised her. She went softly to him, and laid herself on his bosom. "Forgive me, brother," she said, and held up her face. He kissed her forehead and lips, took her in his arms, and laid her again on Lenorme's knees. "I give her to you," he said, "for you are good."
Florimel thought for a moment, and concluded it would be less awkward, would indeed tend rather to her advantage with Lenorme, should he really be there, to have Malcolm with her. "Very well," she answered. "I see no objection. I will ride round with you to the stable, and we can go in the back way." They did so. The gardener took the horses, and they went up to the study.
But she did not feel very angry with him, notwithstanding, for had he not done it to give her pleasure? And assuredly he had not failed. He knew better than anyone how to please her better even than Lenorme. She looked around her. No one was to be seen but Davie, who was steering. The mainsail hid the men, and Rose, having been on deck for two or three hours, was again below. She turned to Davy.
He must live to remove the shame from Mariana. And then see how Lucio is served!" While Malcolm talked, Lenorme went on painting diligently, listening and saying nothing. When he had thus ended, a pause of some duration followed. "A goddess has a right to claim that one thing has she not, Mr Lenorme?" said Malcolm at length, winding up a silent train of thought aloud.
"Who knows, my lady," he answered his mistress, "but you may ride her some day! Give her a bit of sugar every time you see her on your hand, so that she may take it with her lips, and not catch your fingers." "You shall show me how," said Florimel, and gave him a note for Mr Lenorme. When he came in sight of the river, there, almost opposite the painter's house, lay his own little yacht!
"I'll see to them being well aired, my lady," said Caley, with sibilant indignation. Malcolm went to the study. The painter sat before the picture of the marquis, with his elbows on his knees, and his head between his hands. "Mr Lenorme," said Malcolm, approaching him gently. "Oh, go away," said Lenorme, without raising his head. "I can't bear the sight of you yet."
There is the glow and the mystery of love in both their faces, and nothing more." "And is not that enough?" said Lenorme. "No," answered Malcolm. "And yet it may be too much," he added, "if you are going to hang it up where people will see it." As he said this, he looked hard at the painter for a moment.
Ere it ceased Malcolm started and sprung to the door. There stood Lenorme! He seized him by the arm, and without a word of explanation hurried him to the room where his sister was. He called Clementina, half drew her from the room, pushed Lenorme in, and closed the door. "Will you meet me on the sandhill at sunset, my lady?" he said. She smiled assent.
The question is whether they ever had much vitality. But one mighty negative was yet true of Lenorme: he had not got in his head, still less had he ever cherished in his heart, the thought that there was anything fine in disbelieving in a God, or anything contemptible in imagining communication with a being of grander essence than himself.
When he rode up to her "Malcolm," she said, looking at him half ashamed, "I don't think my father would have minded you wearing his clothes." "Thank you, my lady," said Malcolm. "At least he would have forgiven anything meant for your pleasure." "I was too hasty," she said. "But the fact was, Mr Lenorme had irritated me, and I foolishly mixed you up with him."
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