and for a time neither spoke. But now for all the coolness of her
upper crust, Lady Florimel's heart glowed--not indeed with the
power of the shining truth Malcolm had uttered, but with the light
of gladness in the possession of such a strong, devoted, disinterested
squire.

"I wish you to understand," she said at length, "that I am not at
present mistress of this house, although it belongs to me. I am
but the guest of Lady Bellair who has rented it of my guardians.
I cannot therefore arrange for you to be here. But you can find
accommodation in the neighbourhood, and come to me every day for
orders. Let me know when your mare arrives: I shall not want you
till then. You will find room for her in the stables. You had better
consult the butler about your groom's livery."

Malcolm was astonished at the womanly sufficiency with which she
gave her orders. He left her with the gladness of one who has had
his righteous desire, held consultation with the butler on the
matter of the livery, and went home to his lodging. There he sat
down and meditated.

A strange new yearning pity rose in his heart as he thought about
his sister and the sad facts of her lonely condition. He feared
much that her stately composure was built mainly on her imagined
position in society, and was not the outcome of her character. Would
it be cruelty to destroy that false foundation, hardly the more
false as a foundation for composure that beneath it lay a mistake?
--or was it not rather a justice which her deeper and truer self
had a right to demand of him? At present, however, he need not
attempt to answer the question. Communication even such as a trusted