Theodora obediently enumerated them all, and the high-sounding title of the Russian Prince, to say nothing of the English lord and lady, had a mollifying effect on Josiah Brown.  He even remembered the name of Bracondale—­had he not been a grocer’s assistant in the small town of Bracondale for a whole year in his apprenticeship days?

“Papa wants us to breakfast to-day with him at Henry’s for you to meet some of them,” Theodora said, with more confidence.

Josiah had taken a second egg and his frown was gone.

“We’ll see about it, we’ll see about it,” he grunted; but his wife felt more hopeful, and was even unusually solicitous of his wants in the way of coffee and marmalade and cream.  Josiah was shrewd if he did happen to be deeply self-absorbed in his health, and he noticed that Theodora’s eyes were brighter and her step more elastic than usual.

He knew he had bought “one of them there aristocrats,” as his old aunt, who had kept a public-house at New Norton, would have said.  Bought her with solid gold—­he had no illusions on this subject, and he quite realized if the solid gold had not been amassed out of England, so that to her family he could be represented as “something from the colonies—­rather rough, but such a good fellow”—­even Captain Fitzgerald’s impecuniosity and rapacity would not have risen to his bait.

He was also grateful to Theodora—­she had been so meek always, and such a kind and unselfish nurse.  With his impaired constitution and delicate chest he had given up all hopes of looking on her as a wife again, just yet; but, as a nurse and an ornament—­a peg to hang the evidences of his wealth upon—­she was little short of perfection.  He could have been frantically in love with her if she had only been the girl from the station bar in Melbourne.  Josiah Brown was not a bad fellow.

By the time Mr. Toplington advanced in his dignified way with the accurately measured tonic on a silver tray and the single acid drop to remove the taste, Josiah Brown had decided to go and partake food with his father-in-law at Henry’s.  If he had been good enough to entertain the Governor of Australia, he was quite good enough for Russian princes or English lords, he told himself.  Thus it was that Captain Fitzgerald, who came in person in a few minutes to indorse his invitation, found an unusually cordial reception awaiting him.

“I am too delighted, my dear Josiah,” he said, “that you have decided to come out of your shell.  Moping would kill a cat; and I shall order you the plainest chicken and souffle aux fraises.”

“Josiah can eat almost anything, papa.  I don’t think you need worry about that,” said Theodora, who hoped to make her husband enjoy himself.  And then Captain Fitzgerald left to meet his widow.

All the morning, while she walked up and down under the trees in the Avenue du Bois beside her husband, who leaned upon her arm, Theodora’s thoughts were miles away.  She felt stimulated, excited, intensely interested in the hour, afraid they would be late.  Twice she answered at random, and Josiah got quite cross.