Assurances of the writer’s sympathy followed these harsh truths.  But to this polite commonplace her ladyship paid no attention.  Her mind was intent on hard facts, the dismal probabilities of the near future.

‘If he had died upon the passage home!’ she repeated.  ’Would to God that he had so died, and that my son’s name and fortune could be saved.’

The innocent child who had never given her an hour’s care; the one creature she loved with all the strength of her proud nature—­his future was to be blighted by his father’s misdoings-overshadowed by shame and dishonour in the very dawn of life.  It was a wicked wish—­an unnatural wish to find room in a woman’s breast; but the wish was there.  Would to God he had died before the ship touched an English port.

But he was living, and would have to face his accusers—­and she, his wife, must give him all the help she could.

She sat long by the waning fire.  She took nothing but a cup of tea, although the landlady had sent in substantial accompaniments to the tea-tray in the shape of broiled ham, new-laid eggs, and hot cakes, arguing that a traveller on such a night must be hungry, albeit disinclined for a ceremonious dinner.  She had been sitting for nearly an hour in almost the same attitude, when there came a knock at the door, and, on being bidden to enter, the landlady came in, with some logs in her apron, under pretence of replenishing the fire.

’I was afraid your fire must be getting low, and that you’d be amost starved, my lady,’ she said, as she put on the logs, and swept up the ashes on the hearth.  ’Such a dreadful night.  So early in the year, too.  I’m thinking we shall have a gay hard winter.’

‘That does not always follow,’ said Lady Maulevrier.  ’Has Steadman come downstairs?’

’Yes, my lady.  He told me to tell your ladyship that his lordship is pretty comfortable, and hopes to pass a good night.’

’I am glad to hear it.  You can give me another room, I suppose.  It would be better for his lordship not to be disturbed, as he is very much out of health.’

‘There is another room, my lady, but it’s very small.’

‘I don’t mind how small, if it is clean and airy.’

’Yes, my lady.  I am thankful to say you won’t find dirt or stuffiness anywhere in this house.  His lordship do look mortal badly,’ added the landlady, shaking her head dolefully; ’and I remember him such a fine young gentleman, when he used to come down the Rothay with the otter hounds, running along the bank—­joomping in and out of the beck—­up to his knees in the water—­and now to see him, so white and mashiated, and broken-down like, in the very prime of life, all along of living out in a hot country, among blackamoors, which is used to it—­poor, ignorant creatures—­and never knew no better.  It must be a hard trial for you, my lady.’

‘It is a hard trial.’

‘Ah! we all have our trials, rich and poor,’ sighed the woman, who desired nothing better than to be allowed to unbosom her woes to the grand looking lady in the fur-bordered cloth pelisse, with beautiful dark hair piled up in clustering masses above a broad white forehead, and slender white hands on which diamonds flashed and glittered in the firelight, an unaccustomed figure by that rustic hearth.