“Stand back,” said Malcolm. “If it were not that I promised the poor girl carrying your baby out there, I should soon——”
It was unwisely said: the earl came on the bolder. For all Malcolm could do to parry, evade, or stop his blows, he had soon taken several pretty severe ones. Then came the voice of Lizzy in an agony from the door—
“Haud aff o’ yersel’, Ma’colm. I canna bide it. I gi’e ye back yer word.”
“We’ll manage yet Lizzy,” answered Malcolm, and kept warily retreating towards a window. Suddenly he dashed his elbow through a pane, and gave a loud shrill whistle, the same instant receiving a blow over the eye which the blood followed. Lizzy made a rush forward, but the terror that the father would strike the child he had disowned, seized her, and she stood trembling. Already, however, Clementina and Rose had darted between, and, full of rage as he was, Liftore was compelled to restrain himself.
“Oh!” he said, “if ladies want a share in the row, I must yield my place,” and drew back.
The few men servants now came hurrying all together into the room.
“Take that rascal there, and put him under the pump,” said Liftore. “He is mad.”
“My fellow-servants know better than touch me,” said Malcolm.
The men looked to their mistress.
“Do as my lord tells you,” she said, “—and instantly.”