"Alone?" enquired his kinsman suspiciously.
"He had a man with him," rejoined the other with a laugh, "a good-looking chap. I don't seem to be able to place him. As for ladies, make your mind easy,—it's too hot below, for any of our fair angels."
Meanwhile a certain lady—no fair angel this—was making it uncommonly hot for Mallender's host. Ultimately, however, his abject misery, humility, and penitence, disarmed her! Hers was the tender, protecting, mother nature! and after all, what was Robert but a big, foolish, rather stupid boy! It was impossible to withstand his misery; to witness this, hurt her too acutely. Rob must be consoled,—and forgiven.
At the end of an hour's confession and conference, Major and Mrs. Rochfort reappeared,—both somewhat shattered by the recent interview. She however soon rallied, and as usual took the initiative.
Addressing the petrified Mrs. Dixon in a cool practical tone, she said:
"Mrs. Dixon, I think I had better tell you at once, that I am your master's wife."
Mrs. Dixon shrank back against the wall, and ejaculated:
"God bless me! an' didn't I think he was a widower!"
"No, and I must also explain, that he is Major Rochfort. I am Mrs. Rochfort. He took the name of Smith, out here—for—for—for family reasons——" and she swallowed some impediment in her throat.
"Now did he?" ejaculated Mrs. Dixon with open-mouthed surprise.