It was a long way to walk home, but he felt much better, and thought nothing of it. And all the way, to his delight, the wind met him in the face. A steady westerly breeze was blowing. If God makes his angels winds, as the Psalmist says, here was one sent to wait upon him. He reached Portland Place in time to present himself for orders at the usual hour. On these occasions, his mistress not unfrequently saw him herself; but to make sure, he sent up the request that she would speak with him. “I am sorry to hear that you have been ill, Malcolm,” she said kindly, as he entered the room, where happily he found her alone. “I am quite well now, thank you, my lady,” he returned. “I thought your ladyship would like to hear something I happened to come to the knowledge of the other day.” “Yes? What was that?” “I called at Mr Lenorme’s to learn what news there might be of him. The housekeeper let me go up to his painting-room; and what should I see there, my lady, but the portrait of my lord marquis more beautiful than ever, the brown smear all gone, and the likeness, to my mind, greater than before!” “Then Mr Lenorme is come home!” cried Florimel, scarce attempting to conceal the pleasure his report gave her. “That I cannot say,” said Malcolm. “His housekeeper had a letter from him a few days ago from Newcastle. If he is come back, I do not think she knows it. It seems strange, for who would touch one of his pictures but himself?--except, indeed, he got some friend to set it to rights for your ladyship. Anyhow, I thought you would like to see it again.” “I will go at once,” Florimel said, rising hastily. “Get the horses, Malcolm, as fast as you can.” “If my Lord Liftore should come before we start?” he suggested. “Make haste,” returned his mistress, impatiently. Malcolm did make haste, and so did Florimel. What precisely was in her thoughts who shall say, when she could not have told herself? But doubtless the chance of seeing Lenorme urged her more than the desire to see her father’s portrait. Within twenty minutes they were riding down Grosvenor Place, and happily heard no following hoof-beats. When they came near the river, Malcolm rode up to her and said, “Would your ladyship allow me to put up the horses in Mr Lenorme’s stable? I think I could show your ladyship a point or two that may have escaped you.” Florimel thought for a moment, and concluded it would be less awkward, would indeed tend rather to her advantage with Lenorme, should he really be there, to have Malcolm with her. “Very well,” she answered. “I see no objection. I will ride round with you to the stable, and we can go in the back way.”