“Am I really so late as all that?”

And Langholm began to wish he had mistaken the night.

“No,” said Steel, “only a very few minutes, and the sin is ours entirely.  But we thought you were staying away, like everybody else.”

“Like—­everybody—­else?”

“My dear fellow,” said Steel, smiling on the other’s bewilderment, “I humbly apologize for having classed you for an instant with the rank and file of our delightful neighbors; for the fact is that all but two have made their excuses at the last moment.  The telegrams will delight you, one of these days!”

“There was none from me,” declared Langholm, as he began to perceive what had happened.

“There was not; and my wife was quite confident that you would come; so the fault is altogether mine.  Langholm, you were almost at her heels when she was introduced to the old judge yesterday?”

“I was.”

“Have you guessed who she was—­before she married me—­or has anybody told you?”

“I have guessed.”

Steel stood silent for an instant, his eyes resting in calm scrutiny upon the other, his mouth as firm and fixed, his face fresh as a young man’s, his hair like spun silver in the electric light.  Langholm looked upon the man who was looking upon him, and he could not hate him as he would.

“And do you still desire to dine with us?” inquired his host at last.

“I don’t want to be in the way,” faltered Langholm, “on a painful—­”

“Oh, never mind that!” cried Steel.  “Are you quite sure you don’t want to cut our acquaintance?”

“You know I don’t,” said Langholm, bluntly.

“Then come in, pray, and take us as we are.”

“One moment, Steel!  All this is inconceivable; do you mean to say that your guests have thrown you over on account of—­of—­”

“My wife having been a certain Mrs. Minchin before she changed her name to Steel!  Yes, every one of them, except our vicar and his wife, who are real good friends.”

“I am another,” said Langholm through his big mustache.

“The very servants are giving notice, one by one!”

“I am her servant, too!” muttered Langholm, as Steel stood aside to let him pass out first; but this time it was through his teeth, though from his heart, and the words were only audible to himself.

CHAPTER XIX

RACHEL’S CHAMPION

The immediate ordeal proved less trying than Langholm was prepared to find it.  His vivid imagination had pictured the long table, laid for six-and-twenty, with four persons huddled at one end; but the telegrams had come in time to have the table reduced to its normal size, and Langholm found a place set for him between Mrs. Woodgate and Mrs. Steel.  He was only embarrassed when Rachel rose and looked him in the eyes before holding out her hand.

“Have you heard?” she asked him, in a voice as cold as her marble face, but similarly redeemed and animated by its delicate and distant scorn.