She said aloud to Bridget—
“Go down to the Major; give him my compliments, and say that I will be with him in a moment.”
She then proceeded to put on a clean collar and a fresh and becoming tie of cherry-coloured ribbon at her throat. Her dress was dark brown. She looked a very neat and comely little person when she entered the Major’s presence. The Major, however, had no special eye for Mrs Fortescue’s comeliness. He looked rather excited. He was holding his stick in his hand as though he did not wish to part with it, and when he stood up, it was with considerable difficulty that Mrs Fortescue could get him to sit down again.
“Dear, dear!” he said. “Dear, dear! I don’t know how to apologise for coming to you at such an hour before lunch. I do hope you will forgive me.”
Here he deliberately paced from the door to the mantelpiece. The room was small, and he accomplished the distance in a couple of strides; but his whole manner was so confused and distrait that Mrs Fortescue wondered if the good man had taken leave of his senses and was about to propose to her. She was, however, thoroughly sensible and practical; and, knowing that the Major had certainly no money wherewith to support a second wife, turned her mind from the subject and endeavoured to set him at his ease.
“Do sit down,” she said. “Do you know—I am sorry to have to say it—but it fidgets me dreadfully to see people pacing about my drawing-room.”
The Major dropped in the nearest chair as though he had been shot.
“May I take your stick from you?” said Mrs Fortescue.
He resigned it with the expression of one who was about to suffer martyrdom.
“Now, that is much better,” she said. “But I would suggest an easy-chair; there is one near the window. You can then lean back and cross your legs. My late dear husband said he never felt comfortable unless he could lean back in his chair and cross his legs. Ah! how well I remember him; such a dear fellow, so devoted to me. I have never ceased to mourn for him. I could never put another in his place.”