"I used to do as I liked, and could be there or with my grandfather. I did mean to be at the House to-night, but my lady has given my room to her maid." "What! that woman Caley?" "I suppose so, my lady. I must sleep to-night in the village. If you could, my lady--" he added, after a pause, and faltered, hesitating. She did not help him, but waited. "If you could--if you would not be displeased at my asking you," he resumed--"if you _could_ keep my lady from going farther with that--I shall call him names if I go on." "It is a strange request," Clementina replied after a moment's reflection. "I hardly know, as the guest of Lady Lossie, what answer I ought to make to it. One thing I will say, however, that, though you may know more of the man than I, you can hardly dislike him more. Whether I can interfere is another matter. Honestly, I do not think it would be of any use. But I do not say I will not. Good-night." She hurried away, and did not again offer her hand. Malcolm walked back through the tunnel, his heart singing and making melody. Oh how lovely--how more than lovely, how divinely beautiful--she was! And so kind and friendly! Yet she seemed just the least bit fitful too. Something troubled her, he said to himself. But he little thought that he, and no one else, had spoiled the moonlight for her. He went home to glorious dreams--she to a troubled, half-wakeful night. Not until she had made up her mind to do her utmost to rescue Florimel from Liftore, even if it gave her to Malcolm, did she find a moment's quiet. It was morning then, but she fell fast asleep, slept late and woke refreshed. CHAPTER LXIII. CONFESSION OF SIN.