For at that moment his lordship’s horse, a high-bred but timid animal, sprang away from the side of Florimel’s, and there stood Kelpie on her hind legs, pawing the air between him and his lady, and Florimel, whose old confidence in Malcolm was now more than revived, was laughing merrily at the discomfiture of his attempt at love-making. Her behaviour and his own frustration put him in such a rage that, wheeling quickly round, he struck Kelpie, just as she dropped on all fours, a great cut with his whip across the haunches. She plunged and kicked violently, came within an inch of breaking his horse’s leg, and flew across the rail into the park. Nothing could have suited Malcolm better. He did not punish her as he would have done had she been to blame, for he was always just to lower as well as higher animals, but he took her a great round at racing speed, while his mistress and her companion looked on, and everyone in the Row stopped and stared. Finally, he hopped her over the rail again, and brought her up dripping and foaming to his mistress. Florimel’s eyes were flashing, and Liftore looked still angry. “Dinna du that again, my lord,” said Malcolm. “Ye’re no my maister; an’ gien ye war, ye wad hae no richt to brak my neck.” “No fear of that! That’s not how your neck will be broken, my man,” said his lordship, with an attempted laugh; for though he was all the angrier that he was ashamed of what he had done, he dared not further wrong the servant before his mistress. A policeman came up and laid his hand on Kelpie’s bridle. “Take care what you’re about,” said Malcolm; “the mare’s not safe. --There’s my mistress, the Marchioness of Lossie.” The man saw an ugly look in Kelpie’s eye, withdrew his hand, and turned to Florimel. “My groom is not to blame,” said she. “Lord Liftore struck his mare, and she became ungovernable.” The man gave a look at Liftore, seemed to take his likeness, touched his hat, and withdrew. “You’d better ride the jade home,” said Liftore. Malcolm only looked at his mistress. She moved on, and he followed. He was not so innocent in the affair as he had seemed. The expression of Liftore’s face as he drew nearer to Florimel, was to him so hateful, that he interfered in a very literal fashion: Kelpie had been doing no more than he had made her until the earl struck her. “Let us ride to Richmond to-morrow,” said Florimel, “and have a good gallop in the park. Did you ever see a finer sight than that animal on the grass?” “The fellow’s too heavy for her,” said Liftore. “I should very much like to try her myself.” Florimel pulled up, and turned to Malcolm. “MacPhail,” she said, “have that mare of yours ready whenever Lord Liftore chooses to ride her.” “I beg your pardon, my lady,” returned Malcolm, “but would your ladyship make a condition with my lord that he shall not mount her anywhere on the stones.” “By Jove!” said Liftore scornfully. “You fancy yourself the only man that can ride!”