"Now, that is much better," she said. "But I would suggest an easy-chair; there is one near the window. You can then lean back and cross your legs. My late dear husband said he never felt comfortable unless he could lean back in his chair and cross his legs. Ah! how well I remember him; such a dear fellow, so devoted to me. I have never ceased to mourn for him. I could never put another in his place." "Now I have set him at his ease, and got him to abandon the ridiculous idea of proposing to me," thought the widow. "Yes; he looks quite happy, but I do wonder what he wants. I could have taken the opportunity in the absence of the dear girls of looking over the house linen; but he will dawdle on--I know he will. What can he have to say?" The Major was staring hard at Mrs Fortescue, but she soon perceived that though he was looking at her, he was not seeing her. He was, in fact, looking through her at something which considerably disturbed, excited, and delighted him. "The Heathcotes have gone to London, have they not?" he said. "Yes," she replied at once. "My children have left me for the day; but they are coming back to-night--my Brenda and my Florence, as I call them--for they are to me, I assure you, Major Reid, just as though they were my very own children. For years I have given them a mother's care, and--sweet girls!--they have repaid me amply." "They are fine girls, both of them," said the Major. "Fine!" said Mrs Fortescue. "I should scarcely express what the girls are by that word. Aristocratic--I should call them; more particularly Florence, and yet in some ways Brenda has a rare dignity of her own-- like a sweet winter rose: that is what I call her; whereas Florence is like the passion-flower. Marvellous grace that child possesses! He certainly will be a happy man who secures her." "I am coming to that," said Major Reid. "I am coming to that. I want to confide in you." Mrs Fortescue became intensely interested. She had not looked for a confidence in this visit of the Major's; but now she saw by his red face and by the way his lips twitched that he had really come on special business. "The fact is this," he said. "That young dog of mine, Michael, has had the audacity to fall in love with your--well, your adopted child. He is madly in love with Florence, and I have an idea that she responds to his attachment. There; I have told you the truth. I thought it only right." "You will excuse me for a minute," said Mrs Fortescue. She got up abruptly and left the room. The moment she had done so, the Major sprang from his easy-chair, took hold of his stick, and began to pace about more energetically than ever. "If that woman puts a spoke in Mike's wheel, I shall hate her as long as I live!" he thought. "She is just the spiteful sort to do it. I shall have to be very wary when I talk to her."