'My name is Kinloch—General Kinloch, at your service, Colonel-Commandant of the Scots Brigade,' he replied with another profound old-fashioned bow.
Lewie's uncle—the terrible General—the ogre, as she had been wont to call and deem him! The breath of poor Dolores was quite taken away with surprise.
'Mamma is a widow,' said she after a pause; 'you must see her and receive her thanks. A widow and very beautiful,' she added in thought, with the hope that the Countess might win the favour of this grim soldier for Lewie and herself.
'A widow,' repeated the General, with an unmistakable grimace, and with ill-suppressed cynicism in his voice; 'oh, indeed!' and he thought with a writer who says, 'A widow smacks of the charnel-house; she either did love her husband, or she didn't; and in either case who would care to be his successor?'
The Countess at that moment entered the room and came forward with one of her brightest smiles; but suddenly she paused, and the smile faded out of her beautiful face. Kinloch returned her bow with a startled air, and to the acute eyes of Dolores it seemed that a recognition, that was no common one, took place between her mother and the General.
For a time—but a very little time—amid her terror and dismay at the attack made upon herself, Dolores had forgotten the Earl of Drumlanrig's startling intelligence about Lewie's departure for foreign service; but now the memory of it returned in full force, and she looked coldly and earnestly yet distrustfully upon the General as their mutual enemy.
'Mamma,' said she, 'this is the gentleman of whom I told you, and who saved me from my assailants.'
'My daughter is under the greatest of obligations to you—how can I thank you, General Kinloch?' added the Countess, presenting her hand, which he touched slightly, but with reluctance and hesitation.
'Mercedes,' said he; 'you recognise me, then!'
Both were agitated and pale; but the Countess was the first to recover herself.