out at the time she had appointed Malcolm. The fact was, that she had said one o'clock to Liftore, intending twelve, that she might get away without him. Kelpie seemed on her good behavior, and they started quietly enough. By the time they got out of the park upon the Kensington road, however, the evil spirit had begun to wake in her. But even when she was quietest she was nothing to be trusted, and about London, Malcolm found he dared never let his thoughts go, or take his attention quite off her ears. They got to Kew bridge in safety, nevertheless, though whether they were to get safely across was doubtful all the time they were upon it, for again and again she seemed on the very point of clearing the stone balustrade but for the terrible bit and chain without which Malcolm never dared ride her. Still, whatever her caracoles or escapades, they caused Florimel nothing but amusement, for her confidence in Malcolm — that he could do whatever he believed he could — was unbounded. They got through Richmond with some trouble, but hardly were they well into the park when Lord Liftore, followed by his groom, came suddenly up behind them at such a rate as quite destroyed the small stock of equanimity Kelpie had to go upon. She bolted.
Florimel was a good rider, and knew herself quite mistress of her horse; and if she now followed, it was at her own will, and with a design: she wanted to make the horses behind her bolt also if she could. His lordship came flying after her, and his groom after him, but she kept increasing her pace until they were all at full stretch, thundering over the grass, upon which Malcolm had at once turned Kelpie, giving her little rein and plenty of spur. Gradually, Florimel slackened speed, and at last pulled up suddenly. Liftore and his groom went past her like the wind. She turned at right angles and galloped back to the road. There, on a gaunt thoroughbred, with a furnace of old life in him yet, sat Lenorme, whom she had already passed and signalled to remain thereabout. They drew alongside of each other, but they did not shake hands: they only looked, each in the other's eyes, and for a few moments neither spoke. The three riders were now far away over the park, and still Kelpie held on and the other horses after her.
"I little expected such a pleasure," said Lenorme.
"I meant to give it you, though," said Florimel with a merry laugh. — "Bravo, Kelpie! take them with you," she cried, looking after the still retreating horsemen. — "I have got a familiar since I saw you last, Raoul," she went on. "See if I don't get some good for us out of him. We'll move gently along the road here, and by the time Liftore's horse is spent we shall be ready for a good gallop. I want to tell you all about it. I did not mean Liftore to be here when I sent you word, but he has been too much for me."
Lenorme replied with a look of gratitude, and as they walked their horses along she told him all concerning Malcolm and Kelpie.
"Liftore hates him already," she said, "and I can hardly wonder; but you must not, for you will find him useful. He is one I can depend upon. You should have seen the look Liftore gave him when he told him he could not sit his mare! It would have been worth gold to you."
Lenorme winced a little.
"He thinks no end of his riding," Florimel continued; "but if it were not so improper to have secrets with another gentleman, I would tell you that he rides — just pretty well."
Lenorme's great brow gloomed over his eyes like the Eiger in a mist, but he said nothing yet.
"He wants to ride Kelpie, and I have told my groom to let him have her. Perhaps she'll break his neck."
Lenorme smiled grimly.
"You wouldn't mind, would you, Raoul?" added Florimel, with a roguish look.
"Would you mind telling me, Florimel, what you mean by the impropriety of having secrets with another gentleman? Am I the other gentleman?"
"Why, of course. You know Liftore imagines he has only to name the day."
"And you allow an idiot like that to cherish such a degrading idea of you?"
"Why, Raoul! what does it matter what a fool like him thinks?"
"If you don't mind it, I do. I feel it an insult to me that he should dare think of you like that."
"I don't know. I suppose I shall have to marry him some day."
"Lady Lossie, do you want to make me hate you?"
"Don't be foolish, Raoul. It won't be to-morrow nor the next day. Freuet euch des Lebens!"
"Oh, Florimel! what is to come of this? Do you want to break my heart? I hate to talk rubbish. You won't kill me: you will only ruin my work and possibly drive me mad."
