Upon Courthope’s inquiring after the health of the thief, he was told that beyond being severely frost-bitten he was little the worse.  He was again drunk with the stimulants that the Morins had poured down his throat.  The visitor ended the interview by saying that if Courthope would be good enough to drive the team through the drifts his own horse and sleigh would be sent after him the next day.  Courthope inquired what was the wish of the young mistress of the house.  The other replied that mademoiselle approved of his plan.  It was evident that poor Madge was no longer the mistress; the clerk was an emissary of Mrs. King’s, and as such he had taken the control.  Still, as he was an amiable and capable person, Courthope fell in with his suggestion, inwardly vowing that soon of some domain, if not of this one, Madge should again be queen.

Courthope received a message to the effect that the young ladies wished to see him.  There was something in the formal wording of this message, coming after his solitary meal, which made him know that they were ill at ease, that they had taken their mistake more deeply to heart than he would have wished.  He had no sooner entered the room where Madge stood than he wished he were well out of it again, so far did his sympathy with her discomfort transcend his own pleasure at being in her presence.

Madge stood, as upon the first night, behind her sister’s chair.  Eliz looked frightened and excited, yet as half enjoying the novel excitement.  Madge, pale-faced and distressed, showed only too plainly that she had need of all the courage she possessed to lift her eyes to his.  Yet she was not going to shirk her duty; she was going to make her apology, and the apology of the household, just as the judge, her father, would have wished to have it made.

It was a little speech, conned beforehand, which she spoke—­a quaint mixture of her own girlish wording and the formal phrases which she felt the occasion demanded.  Courthope never knew precisely what she said.  His feelings were up and in tumult, like the winds on a gusty day, and he was embarrassed for her embarrassment, while he smiled for the very joy of it all.

Madge confessed with grief that Eliz had mistaken Xavier for Courthope.  She said the man from the village had shown them what folly it was to suppose that the gentleman could be Xavier’s accomplice.  She begged that same gentleman’s pardon very humbly.  At the end he heard some words faltered:  she wished it was in their power ‘to make any amends.’

Almost before she ceased speaking he took up the word, and his own voice sounded to him merry and bold in comparison with her soft distressful speech; but he could not help that, he must speak with such powers as nature gave him.

’There are two ways by which you can make amends, and first I would beg that none of our friends who were here last night should be told of it.  I should not like to think that Emma and Elizabeth, and Evelina or Marianna Alcoforado should ever hear that I was taken for a thief.’