Malcolm was silent.
“You must have some reason for this strange conduct,” she went on. “How can your supposed duty to my father justify you in treating me with such disrespect. Let me know your reasons. I have a right to know them.”
“I will answer you, my lady,” said Malcolm. “—Davy, go forward; I will take the helm.—Now, my lady, if you will sit on that cushion.—Rose, bring my lady a fur-cloak you will find in the cabin.—Now, my lady, if you will speak low that neither Davy nor Rose shall hear us—Travers is deaf—I will answer you.”
“I ask you,” said Florimel, “why you have dared to bring me away like this. Nothing but some danger threatening me could justify it.”
“There you say it, my lady.”
“And what is the danger, pray?”
“You were going on the continent with Lady Bellair and Lord Liftore —and without me to do as I had promised.”
“You insult me!” cried Florimel. “Are my movements to be subject to the approbation of my groom? Is it possible my father could give his henchman such authority over his daughter? I ask you again, where was the danger?”
“In your company, my lady.”
“So!” exclaimed Florimel, attempting to rise in sarcasm as she rose in wrath, lest she should fall into undignified rage. “And what may be your objection to my companions?”