Then she grew angry. What had she done to be thus
tormented? She a marchioness, thus pestered by her own menials
--pulled in opposing directions by a groom and a maid. She would
turn them both away, and have nobody about her, either to trust or
suspect.
She might have called them her good and her evil demon; for she
knew, that is, she had it somewhere about her, but did not look
it out, that it was her own cowardice and concealment, her own
falseness to the traditional, never failing courage of her house,
her ignobility, and unfitness to represent the Colonsays--her
double dealing in short, that had made the marchioness in her own
right the slave of her woman, the rebuked of her groom!
She turned and rode back, looking the other way as she passed
Malcolm.
When they reached the top of the heath, riding along to meet them
came Liftore--this time to Florimel's consolation and comfort:
she did not like riding unprotected with a good angel at her heels.
So glad was she that she did not even take the trouble to wonder how
he had discovered the road she went. She never suspected that Caley
had sent his lordship's groom to follow her until the direction
of her ride should be evident, but took his appearance without
question, as a loverlike attention, and rode home with him, talking
the whole way, and cherishing a feeling of triumph over both Malcolm
and Lenorme.
Pages:
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244