But instead of turning and swimming back, Malcolm held on, and getting out on the farther side, ran down the beach and rushed into the sea, rousing once more the apprehensions of Clementina. The shore sloped rapidly, and in a moment he was in deep water. He swam a few yards out, swam ashore again, ran round the end of the lake, found his coat, and got from it his pocket-handkerchief. Having therewith dried his hands and face, he wrang out the sleeves of his shirt a little, put on his coat, returned to his place, and said, as he took up the book and sat down, “I beg your pardon, my ladies; but just as I heard my Lady Clementina say _pikes_, I saw the little swift in the water. There was no time to lose. Swiftie had but a poor chance.” As he spoke he proceeded to find the place in the book. “You don’t imagine we are going to have you read in such a plight as that!” cried Clementina. “I will take good care, my lady. I have books of my own, and I handle them like babies.” “You foolish man! It is of you in your wet clothes, not of the book I am thinking,” said Clementina indignantly. “I’m much obliged to you, my lady, but there’s no fear of me. You saw me wash the fresh water out. Salt water never hurts.” “You must go and change nevertheless,” said Clementina. Malcolm looked to his mistress. She gave him a sign to obey, and he rose. He had taken three steps towards the house when Clementina recalled him. “One word, if you please,” she said. “How is it that a man who risks his life for that of a little bird, can be so heartless to a great noble creature like that horse of yours? I cannot understand it!” “My lady,” returned Malcolm with a smile, “I was no more risking my life than you would be in taking a fly out of the milk-jug. And for your question, if your ladyship will only think, you cannot fail to see the difference. Indeed I explained my treatment of Kelpie to your ladyship that first morning in the park, when you so kindly rebuked me for it, but I don’t think your ladyship listened to a word I said.” Clementina’s face flushed, and she turned to her friend with a “Well!” in her eyes. But Florimel kept her head bent over her embroidery; and Malcolm, no further notice being taken of him walked away. CHAPTER XLII. ST RONAN’S WELL.