Also she had the impression that for a menial
to lift his hand against a gentleman, even in self defence, was a
thing unheard of. The blow Malcolm had struck Liftore was for her,
not himself. Therefore, while her confidence in Malcolm's courage
and prowess remained unshaken, she was yet able to believe that
Liftore had done as he said, and supposed that Malcolm had submitted.
In her heart she pitied without despising him.
Caley herself took him the message that he would not be wanted. As
she delivered it, she smiled an evil smile and dropped a mocking
courtesy, with her gaze well fixed on his two black eyes and the
great bruise between them.
When Liftore mounted to accompany Lady Lossie, it took all the pluck
that belonged to his high breed to enable him to smile and smile,
with twenty counsellors in different parts of his body feelingly
persuading him that he was at least a liar. As they rode, Florimel
asked him how he came to be at the studio that morning. He told her
that he had wanted very much to see her portrait before the final
touches were given it. He could have made certain suggestions, he
believed, that no one else could. He had indeed, he confessed--
and felt absolutely virtuous in doing so, because here he spoke
a fact--heard from his aunt that Florimel was to be there that
morning for the last time: it was therefore his only chance; but
he had expected to be there hours before she was out of bed.
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