“Ay! ay! ay! here’s the new parlor-maid, to be sure!” he began, looking sharply, but not at all unkindly, at Magdalen.  “What’s your name, my good girl?  Louisa, is it?  I shall call you Lucy, if you don’t mind.  Take off the cover, my dear—­I’m a minute or two late to-day.  Don’t be unpunctual to-morrow on that account; I am as regular as clock-work generally.  How are you after your journey?  Did my spring-cart bump you about much in bringing you from the station?  Capital soup this—­hot as fire—­reminds me of the soup we used to have in the West Indies in the year Three.  Have you got your half-mourning on?  Stand there, and let me see.  Ah, yes, very neat, and nice, and tidy.  Poor Mrs. Girdlestone!  Oh dear, dear, dear, poor Mrs. Girdlestone!  You’re not afraid of dogs, are you, Lucy?  Eh?  What?  You like dogs?  That’s right!  Always be kind to dumb animals.  These two dogs dine with me every day, except when there’s company.  The dog with the black nose is Brutus, and the dog with the white nose is Cassius.  Did you ever hear who Brutus and Cassius were?  Ancient Romans?  That’s right—–­good girl.  Mind your book and your needle, and we’ll get you a good husband one of these days.  Take away the soup, my dear, take away the soup!”

This was the man whose secret it was now the one interest of Magdalen’s life to surprise!  This was the man whose name had supplanted hers in Noel Vanstone’s will!

The fish and the roast meat followed; and the admiral’s talk rambled on—­now in soliloquy, now addressed to the parlor-maid, and now directed to the dogs—­as familiarly and as discontentedly as ever.  Magdalen observed with some surprise that the companions of the admiral’s dinner had, thus far, received no scraps from their master’s plate.  The two magnificent brutes sat squatted on their haunches, with their great heads over the table, watching the progress of the meal, with the profoundest attention, but apparently expecting no share in it.  The roast meat was removed, the admiral’s plate was changed, and Magdalen took the silver covers off the two made-dishes on either side of the table.  As she handed the first of the savory dishes to her master, the dogs suddenly exhibited a breathless personal interest in the proceedings.  Brutus gluttonously watered at the mouth; and the tongue of Cassius, protruding in unutterable expectation, smoked again between his enormous jaws.

The admiral helped himself liberally from the dish; sent Magdalen to the side-table to get him some bread; and, when he thought her eye was off him, furtively tumbled the whole contents of his plate into Brutus’s mouth.  Cassius whined faintly as his fortunate comrade swallowed the savory mess at a gulp.  “Hush! you fool,” whispered the admiral.  “Your turn next!”