The next day at noon, mounted on Kelpie, Malcolm was
in attendance upon his mistress, who was eager after
a gallop in Richmond Park. Lord Liftore, who
had intended to accompany her, had not made his appearance
yet, but Florimel did not seem the less desirous of
setting out at the time she had appointed Malcolm.
The fact was she had said one o’clock to Liftore,
intending twelve, that she might get away without
him. Kelpie seemed on her good behaviour, and
they started quietly enough. By the time they
had got out of the park upon the Kensington Road,
however, the evil spirit had begun to wake in her.
But even when she was quietest, she was nothing to
be trusted, and about London Malcolm found he dared
never let his thoughts go, or take his attention quite
off her ears. They got to Kew Bridge in safety
nevertheless, though whether they were to get safely
across was doubtful all the time they were upon it,
for again and again she seemed on the very point of
clearing the stone balustrade, but for the terrible
bit and chain without which Malcolm never dared ride
her. Still, whatever her caracoles or escapades,
they caused Florimel nothing but amusement, for her
confidence in Malcolm—that he could do
whatever he believed he could—was unbounded.
They got through Richmond—with some trouble,
but hardly were they well into the park, when Lord
Liftore, followed by his groom, came suddenly up behind
them at such a rate as quite destroyed the small stock
of equanimity Kelpie had to go upon. She bolted.
Florimel was a good rider, and knew herself quite
mistress of her horse, and if she now followed, it
was at her own will, and with a design; she wanted
to make the horses behind her bolt also if she could.
His lordship came flying after her, and his groom after
him, but she kept increasing her pace until they were
all at full stretch, thundering over the grass—upon
which Malcolm had at once turned Kelpie, giving her
little rein and plenty of spur. Gradually Florimel
slackened speed, and at last pulled up suddenly.
Liftore and his groom went past her like the wind.
She turned at right angles and galloped back to the
road. There, on a gaunt thoroughbred, with a
furnace of old life in him yet, sat Lenorme, whom she
had already passed and signalled to remain thereabout.
They drew alongside of each other, but they did not
shake hands; they only looked each in the other’s
eyes, and for a few moments neither spoke. The
three riders were now far away over the park, and
still Kelpie held on and the other horses after her.
“I little expected such a pleasure,” said
Lenorme.
“I meant to give it you, though,” said
Florimel, with a merry laugh. “Bravo, Kelpie!
take them with you,” she cried, looking after
the still retreating horsemen. “I have
got a familiar since I saw you last, Raoul,”
she went on. “See if I don’t get some
good for us out of him!—We’ll move
gently along the road here, and by the time Liftore’s
horse is spent, we shall be ready for a good gallop.
I want to tell you all about it. I did not mean
Liftore to be here when I sent you word, but he has
been too much for me.”
Copyrights
The Marquis of Lossie from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
