He alighted, bidding one of his grooms drive to stables. Madge performed her reverence, aware that she did it in clumsy style; his presence had startled her instincts and set them travelling. 'Coldish for the youngster,' he said. 'All well, Madge?' 'Baby sleeps in the air, my lord,' she replied. 'My lady has gone to Croridge.' 'Sharp air for a child, isn't it?' 'My lady teaches him to breathe with his mouth shut, like her father taught her when she was little. Our baby never catches colds.' Madge displayed the child's face. The father dropped a glance on it from the height of skies. 'Croridge, you said?' 'Her uncle, Lord Levellier's.' 'You say, never catches cold?' 'Not our baby, my lord.' Probably good management on the part of the mother. But the wife's absence disappointed the husband strung to meet her, and an obtrusion of her practical motherhood blurred the prospect demanded by his present step. 'When do you expect her to return, Madge?' 'Before nightfall, my lord.' 'She walks?' 'Oh yes, my lady is fond of walking.' 'I suppose she could defend herself?' 'My lady walks with a good stick.' Fleetwood weighed the chances; beheld her figure attacked, Amazonian. 'And tell me, my dear--Kit?' I don't see more of Kit Ines.' 'What has the fellow done?' 'I'd like him to let me know why he was dismissed.' 'Ah. He kept silent on that point.' 'He let out enough.' 'You've punished him, if he's to lose a bonny sweetheart, poor devil! Your sister Sally sends you messages?' 'We're both of us grateful, my lord.' He lifted the thin veil from John Edward Russett's face with a loveless hand. 'You remember the child bitten by a dog down in Wales. I have word from my manager there. Poor little wretch has died--died raving.' Madge's bosom went shivering up and sank. 'My lady was right. She's not often wrong.' 'She's looking well?' said the earl, impatient with her moral merits:-- and this communication from Wales had been the decisive motive agent in hurrying him at last to Esslemont. The next moment he heard coolly of the lady's looking well. He wanted fervid eulogy of his wife's looks, if he was to hear any. CHAPTER XXXVI BELOW THE SURFACE AND ABOVE