It was some time, after he knew where she was, before he ventured
to look at his sister: he would have her already familiarised with
his presence before their eyes met. That crisis did not arrive
during dinner.
Lord Liftore was one of the company, and so, to Malcolm's pleasure,
for he felt in him an ally against the earl, was Florimel's mysterious
friend.
CHAPTER XII: A NEW LIVERY
Scarcely had the ladies gone to the drawing room, when Florimel's
maid, who knew Malcolm, came in quest of him. Lady Lossie desired
to see him.
"What is the meaning of this, MacPhail?" she said, when he entered
the room where she sat alone. "I did not send for you. Indeed, I
thought you had been dismissed with the rest of the servants."
How differently she spoke! And she used to call him Malcolm! The
girl Florimel was gone, and there sat--the marchioness, was it?
--or some phase of riper womanhood only? It mattered little to
Malcolm. He was no curious student of man or woman. He loved his
kind too well to study it. But one thing seemed plain: she had
forgotten the half friendship and whole service that had had place
betwixt them, and it made him feel as if the soul of man no less
than his life were but as a vapour that appeareth for a little and
then vanisheth away.
But Florimel had not so entirely forgotten the past as Malcolm
thought--not so entirely at least but that his appearance, and
certain difficulties in which she had begun to find herself, brought
something of it again to her mind.
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