It was on the first of November, a week after the funeral, that Mr. Rockharrt, for the first time in three months, went to the works.
On that day, while Cora sat alone in the parlor, a card was brought to her—
"The Duke of Cumbervale."
The Duke of Cumbervale entered the parlor.
Cora rose to receive him; the blood rushing to her head and suffusing her face with blushes, merely from the vivid memory of the painful past called up by the sudden sight of the man who had been the unconscious cause of all her unhappiness. Most likely the old lover mistook the meaning of the lady's agitation in his presence, and ascribed it to a self-flattering origin.
However that might have been, he advanced with easy grace, and bowing slightly, said:
"My dear Mrs. Rothsay, I am very happy to see you again! I hope I find you quite well?"
"Quite well, thank you," she replied, recovering her self-control.
In the ensuing conversation, Cora made known her grandfather's accident and the death of Rose.
"I am truly grieved to have intruded at so inopportune a time," asserted the visitor, and arose to take leave.