Mr. Rochester, who was quite a young man himself, and was deeply occupied at this time with thoughts of love and marriage, happened to see the pair as they sauntered by together. He knew nothing, of course, of Ogilvie’s intended visit to Australia, nor was he in any sense of the word behind the scenes. On the contrary, he thought that Mrs. Ogilvie and her husband made a perfect picture of beautiful love between husband and wife.
“It is good of you,” pursued Mrs. Ogilvie, turning once more to her husband. “I am greatly obliged. I am more than obliged, I am relieved and—and satisfied. We shall have a happy life together when you come back. There are, of course, little matters we ought to talk over before we go.”
“Debts, you mean,” said Ogilvie, bluntly. “I opened your bills in your absence. They will be——”
“Oh, Phil!” Mrs. Ogilvie’s face turned very white.
“I will speak about them before I leave,” he continued. “Now I must find Grayleigh.”
“Is it true that you are going on Saturday?”
“Quite true.”
“Had I not better return to town with you? There will be several things to put in order.”
“I can write to you, Mildred. Now that you are here you had better stay here. The change will be good for you. You need not return to the house in town before next week.”
“If you really don’t want me, I am certainly enjoying myself here.”