“And now,” said his lordship rising, “I want you to take a letter to Mrs Stewart of Kirkbyres.--Can you ride?” “I can ride the bare back weel eneuch for a fisher-loon,” said Malcolm; “but I never was upon a saiddle i’ my life.” “The sooner you get used to one the better. Go and tell Stoat to saddle the bay mare. Wait in the yard: I will bring the letter out to you myself.” “Verra weel, my lord!” said Malcolm. He knew, from sundry remarks he had heard about the stables, that the mare in question was a ticklish one to ride, but would rather have his neck broken than object. Hardly was she ready, when the marquis appeared, accompanied by Lady Florimel--both expecting to enjoy a laugh at Malcolm’s expense. But when the mare was brought out, and he was going to mount her where she stood, something seemed to wake in the marquis’s heart, or conscience, or wherever the pigmy Duty slept that occupied the all-but sinecure of his moral economy: he looked at Malcolm for a moment, then at the ears of the mare hugging her neck, and last at the stones of the paved yard. “Lead her on to the turf, Stoat,” he said. The groom obeyed, all followed, and Malcolm mounted. The same instant he lay on his back on the grass, amidst a general laugh, loud on the part of marquis and lady, and subdued on that of the servants. But the next he was on his feet, and, the groom still holding the mare, in the saddle again: a little anger is a fine spur for the side of even an honest intent. This time he sat for half a minute, and then found himself once more on the grass. It was but once more: his mother earth had claimed him again only to complete his strength. A third time he mounted--and sat. As soon as she perceived it would be hard work to unseat him, the mare was quiet. “Bravo!” cried the marquis, giving him the letter. “Will there be an answer, my lord?” “Wait and see.” “I s’ gar you pey for ’t, gien we come upon a broon rig atween this an’ Kirkbyres,” said Malcolm, addressing the mare, and rode away. Both the marquis and Lady Florimel, whose laughter had altogether ceased in the interest of watching the struggle, stood looking after him with a pleased expression, which, as he vanished up the glen, changed to a mutual glance and smile. “He’s got good blood in him, however he came by it,” said the marquis. “The country is more indebted to its nobility than is generally understood.” Otherwise indebted at least than Lady Florimel could gather from her father’s remark! CHAPTER XXXV. KIRKBYRES.