Had she not a protector of her own kind? Could she
not, when they troubled her, pass from their sphere into one beyond
their ken? For the poor moment, the weak lord who rode beside her
seemed to her foolish heart a tower of refuge. She was particularly
gracious to her lover as they rode, and fancied again and again
that perhaps the best way out of her troubles would be to encourage
and at last accept him, so getting rid of honeyed delights and
rankling stings together, of good and evil angels and low bred
lover at one sweep. Quiet would console for dulness, innocence for
weariness. She would fain have a good conscience toward Society--
that image whose feet are of gold and its head a bag of chaff and
sawdust.
Malcolm followed sick at heart that she should prove herself so
shallow. Riding Honour, he had plenty of leisure to brood.
CHAPTER XXXII: A CHASTISEMENT
When she went to her room, there was Caley taking from a portmanteau
the Highland dress which had occasioned so much. 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.
Pages:
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245