"Come off her, my lord, for God's sake! Off with you!" cried Malcolm as he leaped at her head. "She'll be on her back in a moment."
Liftore only clung the harder. Malcolm caught her head just in time: she was already falling backward.
"Let all go, my lord. Throw yourself off."
He swung her toward him with all his strength, and just as his lordship fell off behind her she fell sideways to Malcolm and clear of Liftore.
As Malcolm was on the side away from the little group, and their own horses were excited, those who had looked breathless on at the struggle could not tell how he had managed it, but when they expected to see the groom writhing under the weight of the demoness, there he was with his knee upon her head while Liftore was gathering himself up from the ground, only just beyond the reach of her iron-shod hoofs.
"Thank God," said Florimel, "there is no harm done! — Well, have you had enough of her yet, Liftore?"
"Pretty nearly, I think," said his lordship, with an attempt at a laugh as he walked rather feebly and foolishly toward his horse. He mounted with some difficulty and looked very pale.
"I hope you're not much hurt," said Florimel kindly as she moved alongside of him.
"Not in the least — only disgraced," he answered almost angrily. "The brute's a perfect Satan. You must part with her. With such a horse and such a groom you'll get yourself talked of all over London. I believe the fellow himself was at the bottom of it. You really must sell her."
"I would, my lord, if you were my groom," answered Florimel, whom his accusation of Malcolm had filled with angry contempt; and she moved away toward the still prostrate mare.
Malcolm was quietly seated on her head. She had ceased sprawling, and lay nearly motionless, but for the heaving of her sides with her huge inhalations. She knew from experience that struggling was useless.
"I beg your pardon, my lady," said Malcolm, "but I daren't get up."
"How long do you mean to sit there, then?" she asked.
"If your ladyship wouldn't mind riding home without me, I would give her a good half hour of it. I always do when she throws herself over like that. — I've got my Epictetus?" he asked himself, feeling in his coat-pocket."
"Do as you please," answered his mistress. "Let me see you when you get home. I should like to know you are safe."
"Thank you, my lady: there's little fear of that," said Malcolm.
Florimel returned to the gentlemen, and they rode homeward. On the way she said suddenly to the earl, "Can you tell me, Liftore, who Epictetus was?"
"I'm sure I don't know," answered his lordship. "One of the old fellows."
She turned to Lenorme. Happily, the Christian heathen was not altogether unknown to the painter.
"May I inquire why your ladyship asks?" he said when he had told all he could at the moment recollect.
"Because," she answered, "I left my groom sitting on his horse's head reading Epictetus."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Liftore. "Ha! ha! ha! In the original, I suppose!"
"I don't doubt it," said Florimel.
In about two hours Malcolm reported himself. Lord Liftore had gone home, they told him. The painter-fellow, as Wallis called him, had stayed to lunch, but was now gone also, and Lady Lossie was alone in the drawing-room.
She sent for him. "I am glad to see you safe, MacPhail," she said. "It is clear your Kelpie — don't be alarmed: I am not going to make you part with her — but it is clear she won't always do for you to attend me upon. Suppose now I wanted to dismount and make a call or go into a shop?"
"There is a sort of friendship between your Abbot and her, my lady: she would stand all the better if I had him to hold."
"Well, but how would you put me up again?"
"I never thought of that, my lady. Of course I daren't let you come near Kelpie."
"Could you trust yourself to buy another horse to ride after me about town?"
"No, my lady, not without a ten days' trial. If lies stuck like London mud, there's many a horse would never be seen again. But there's Mr. Lenorme. If he would go with me, I fancy between us we could do pretty well."
"Ah! a good idea!" returned his mistress. "But what makes you think of him?" she added, willing enough to talk about him.
"The look of the gentleman and his
