The coffee, that had been sent to the kitchen to be kept hot, was brought up again, with hot rolls and hot broiled partridges.

The old man resumed his breakfast in silence.  He did not think proper to speak of his visitor, nor did any member of the family party venture to question him.

And this was well, so far as Cora was concerned.

Any allusion to the agonizing subject of her husband’s mysterious disappearance was more than she could well bear; and to have hinted in her presence that some hidden sorrow had driven him to self-destruction might almost have wrecked her reason.

Cora now never mentioned his name; yet, as after events proved, he was never for a moment absent from her mind.

The old grandmother, who could not speak to Cora on the subject, and who dared not speak to her lord and master on any subject that he did not first broach, and yet who felt that she must talk to some one of that which oppressed her bosom so heavily, at length confided to her youngest son.

“I do think Cora’s heart is breaking in this suspense, Clarence!  If Rule had died there would have been an end of it, and she would have known the worst and submitted to the inevitable!  But this awful suspense, anxiety, uncertainty as to his fate, is just killing her!  I wish we could do something to save her, Clarence!”

“I wish so, too, mother!  I see how she is failing and sinking, and I own that this surprises me!  I really thought that Cora was fascinated by that fellow in London.” (This was the irreverent manner in which Mr. Clarence spoke of his grace the Duke of Cumbervale.) “And I thought that she only married Rothsay from a sense of duty, keeping her word, and all that sort of thing!  I can’t understand her grieving herself to death for him now!”

“Oh, Clarence! she was fascinated by the rank and splendor and personal attractions of the young duke!  Her fancy, vanity, ambition and imagination were fired; but her heart was never touched!  She had not seen Rothsay for so long a time that his image had somewhat faded in her memory when this splendid young fellow crossed her path and dazzled her for a time!  It was a brief madness—­nothing more!  But you can see for yourself how really she loved Rothsay when you see that anxiety for his fate is breaking her heart.”

“I see, mother dear; but I don’t understand!  And I don’t know what on earth we can do for her!  If my father does not think proper to suggest something, we must not, for if we should do so it would make matters much worse.”

“Yes,” sighed the old lady; and the subject was dropped.

Clarence had said that he did not understand Cora’s state of mind.  No; nor did old Mrs. Rockharrt.  How could they, when Cora had not understood herself, until suffering brought self-knowledge?