When Mrs. Lecount’s master made his appearance at two o’clock, he stood alarmingly in need of an anodyne application from Mrs. Lecount’s green fan.  The agitation of making his avowal to Magdalen; the terror of finding himself discovered by the housekeeper; the tormenting suspicion of the hard pecuniary conditions which Magdalen’s relative and guardian might impose on him—­all these emotions, stirring in conflict together, had overpowered his feebly-working heart with a trial that strained it sorely.  He gasped for breath as he sat down in the parlor at North Shingles, and that ominous bluish pallor which always overspread his face in moments of agitation now made its warning appearance again.  Captain Wragge seized the brandy bottle in genuine alarm, and forced his visitor to drink a wine-glassful of the spirit before a word was said between them on either side.

Restored by the stimulant, and encouraged by the readiness with which the captain anticipated everything that he had to say, Noel Vanstone contrived to state the serious object of his visit in tolerably plain terms.  All the conventional preliminaries proper to the occasion were easily disposed of.  The suitor’s family was respectable; his position in life was undeniably satisfactory; his attachment, though hasty, was evidently disinterested and sincere.  All that Captain Wragge had to do was to refer to these various considerations with a happy choice of language in a voice that trembled with manly emotion, and this he did to perfection.  For the first half-hour of the interview, no allusion whatever was made to the delicate and dangerous part of the subject.  The captain waited until he had composed his visitor, and when that result was achieved came smoothly to the point in these terms: 

“There is one little difficulty, Mr. Vanstone, which I think we have both overlooked.  Your housekeeper’s recent conduct inclines me to fear that she will view the approaching change in your life with anything but a friendly eye.  Probably you have not thought it necessary yet to inform her of the new tie which you propose to form?”

Noel Vanstone turned pale at the bare idea of explaining himself to Mrs. Lecount.

“I can’t tell what I’m to do,” he said, glancing aside nervously at the window, as if he expected to see the housekeeper peeping in.  “I hate all awkward positions, and this is the most unpleasant position I ever was placed in.  You don’t know what a terrible woman Lecount is.  I’m not afraid of her; pray don’t suppose I’m afraid of her—­”

At those words his fears rose in his throat, and gave him the lie direct by stopping his utterance.

“Pray don’t trouble yourself to explain,” said Captain Wragge, coming to the rescue.  “This is the common story, Mr. Vanstone.  Here is a woman who has grown old in your service, and in your father’s service before you; a woman who has contrived, in all sorts of small, underhand ways, to presume systematically on her position for years and years past; a woman, in short, whom your inconsiderate but perfectly natural kindness has allowed to claim a right of property in you—­”