Martha Dryscoll looked wonderingly at this butterfly creature, who talked hysterically of falling at her husband’s feet and begging forgiveness. Francis had made no confidants in that Cornish house; and Mrs. Dryscoll began to fear that his marriage had been a very unfortunate affair, and that this sudden arrival of an elegantly dressed penitent was to be the last act of a domestic tragedy. “If you’ll walk in there, ma’am,” Martha said, pointing to the parlour, with a severe aspect of countenance, “I’ll go and see my master.” She said no more, but departed; and Maude crept into the old-fashioned room, fearful lest the rustling of her silk dress might disturb an invalid’s slumber. It seemed a long time that she waited, and then Mrs. Dryscoll returned, smiling grimly this time. “He’ll see you directly minute,” she said; “and, oh, he does seem so pleased, poor dear!” She led Maude to the top of the staircase, and then pointed to a half-open door at the end of a dusky corridor, after which she went down-stairs again, and Maude heard her sobbing quietly to herself until the sound subsided in the distance. The young wife went on to the half-open door, and entered the room in which her husband lay on a white-curtained bed, very pale, very wan, and so weak that he could not raise his hand to offer it her in token of loving reconciliation. She fell on her knees by the bed, and laid her cheek upon the hand that was too feeble to be lifted. “Oh, forgive me!” she said; “my dear, my love, my true and cherished husband! If you wanted to give me a lesson, you have given me a very cruel one; but you have taught me that I cannot live without you.” She sat by his pillow, with his weak head encircled by her caressing arms, and told him the story of her penitence and remorse. It was a sweet exchange of forgiveness for the past, and tender promises for the future. No denizens of Stuccoville kept watch from behind pink curtains; the driver of the fly slumbered as profoundly as one of the seven sleepers; the rustic sound of the sheep cropping the clover was the only sound that stirred the drowsy stillness. Martha kept herself discreetly out of the way; and the husband and wife, truly united for the first time in their lives in that Cornish solitude, were loath to break the spell which held them in such loving union. But such spells have to be broken for the common business of life. Punctual to the appointed moment Mrs. Dryscoll appeared with her master’s medicine; and then the lumbering fly was sent back empty to Landresdale; and after that Mrs. Tredethlyn was banished from the sick room, and made some faint show of taking a little of the refreshment which had been provided for her by Martha. After dinner she wrote two brief notes--one to her maid at Falmouth, who was to follow her immediately with the portmanteau; the other to Julia, who was to be so good as to send her such luggage as would be necessary to her in a stay of some weeks.