The half-hour given by Captain Headley to the men to clean themselves and eat their breakfasts, afforded his subaltern ample time to take his own, which had all this time been waiting.  When he readied his rooms he found that he had another ordeal to go through.  Mrs. Elmsley was already at the bead of the table, and pouring out the coffee, with Miss Heywood seated on her left—­the latter very pale, and having evidently passed a sleepless night.  As the officer entered the room, a slight flush overspread her features, for she looked as if she expected him to be accompanied by another, but when he hastily unbuckled his sword, and placed it, with his cap, on a side-table, desiring his wife to lose no time in pouring out the coffee, as he must be off again immediately, she felt, she knew not wherefore, very sick at heart, and became even paler than before.  Nor was she at all re-assured by the tone of commiseration in which, after drawing a chair to her side, and affectionately pressing her hand, he inquired after her own and her mother’s health.

“Why, George,” said Mrs. Elmsley, who remarked this change in her friend, and in some degree divined the cause, “where are Mr. Ronayne and the doctor?  You told me last night they were to breakfast here—­and see, one, two, three, four, five cups (pointing at each with her finger), I have prepared accordingly.  Indeed, I scarcely think this young lady would have made her appearance at the breakfast-table, had she not expected to meet—­who was it, my dear? and she turned an arch look upon her friend —­“ah!  I know now—­Von Vottenberg.”

“Nay, I have no more need of disguise from your husband than from yourself, Margaret,” replied Miss Heywood, her coloring cheek in a measure contradicting her words—­“it was Harry Ronayne I expected; but,” she added, with a faint smile, “do not imagine I am quite so romantic as not to be able to take my breakfast, because he is not present to share it; therefore if you please, I also will trouble you for a cup of coffee.”

“All in good time,” remarked Mrs. Elmsley.  “I dare say, Ronayne is engaged in some duty which has prevented him from keeping his engagement as punctually as he could have desired.  We shall certainly see him before the breakfast things are removed.”

“It seems to me,” said her husband, who was taking his meal with the appetite of any other than a hungry man, and even with a shade of vexation on his features, “that you all appear to be very much in the dark here.  Why, Margaret, have you not heard what has occurred during the night, as well as this morning?”

“How should I have heard any thing, George?” replied Mrs. Elmsley.  “I have seen no one since you went out this morning—­who could have communicated news from without?  Surely you ought to know that.  Will you have more coffee?”

“No, thank you—­I have no appetite for coffee or for any thing else.  I almost wish I had not come.  Dear Maria,” he added, impetuously, taking Miss Heywood’s hand in his own; “I know you have a noble—­a courageous heart, and can bear philosophically what I have to tell you.”