“Perhaps Headley has systematically drilled her into the particular bearing that ought to be assumed by the wife of the commandant of a garrison.”
“Nay, George! that is not generous, but I know you are not serious in what you say. You judge Mrs. Headley better, and that she is not a woman to be so drilled. She has too much good sense, despite all her partiality for her husband, to allow herself to be improperly influenced, where her judgment condemns; and although, as his wife, she must necessarily act in concert with him, it by no means follows that she approves unreservedly, all that he does.”
“You are a dear, noble creature yourself!” exclaimed the gratified Elmsley, as he fondly embraced his wife. “There is nothing I love so much as to see one woman warm in the defence of another—one so seldom meets with that sort of thing. What, Maria, tears?”
“Yes—tears of pleasure!” she answered earnestly, as she held her handkerchief to her eyes—“tears of joy to see so much generosity of feeling among those whom I have so much reason to esteem and admire. You are right,” she pursued, addressing Mrs. Elmsley, “she is indeed a noble woman. Perhaps I may justly be accused of a little partiality, for I never can forget the frank and cordial proffers of friendship with which she received me on the first night of my appearance here.”
“Ha! Von Vottenberg to the rescue!” exclaimed Elmsley, with sudden animation, as the stout figure of the former shaded the door-way. “Well, doctor, have you passed away in the evaporation produced by fright, the violent head-ache you were suffering from this morning? If not, try that claret. It is capital stuff, and a tumbler of it will make up for the breakfast you have lost.”
“Faith, and there is no breakfast lost, that I can perceive,” chuckled the doctor, seating himself unceremoniously at the table, and commencing upon the remains of the bear ham, and prairie hen.
“I fear the tea and coffee are cold,” said Mrs. Elmsley; “let me get some hot for you?”
“By no means, my dear Mrs. Elmsley, I could not think of such slops with generous claret at my elbow. Nay, do not look offended. Your tea and coffee are always of the best, but they do not just now, suit my taste. Miss Heywood, how do you do this morning? How is your gentle mother? I have called expressly to see her. Elmsley, where is that runaway, Ronayne?”
And where indeed was he? They had not walked more than three or four paces, when Mrs. Headley, after some little hesitation, addressed him thus:—
“Mr. Ronayne, notwithstanding your evident desire to conceal the fact, I can plainly see that you were not within the Fort last night. I can fully comprehend that your motive for absenting yourself, has been praiseworthy, but you must also admit that the reproof you met with this morning, was not altogether undeserved. Pray do not start or look grave, for, believe me, I am speaking to you only as a friend—indeed it was to have the opportunity of convincing you that I am such, that I asked you to escort me.”