“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!”
“It’s nothing to me, my lord, if you break your neck; but I am bound to tell you I do not think your lordship will sit my mare. Stoat can’t; and I can only because I know her as well as my own palm.”
The young earl made no answer and they rode on—Malcolm nearer than his lordship liked.
“I can’t think, Florimel,” he said, “why you should want that fellow about you again. He is not only very awkward, but insolent as well.”
“I should call it straightforward,” returned Florimel.
“My dear Lady Lossie! See how close he is riding to us now.”