Mrs. Coleman was busily engaged in the bedroom, but hearing the footsteps, she immediately entered. She was slightly taken aback at seeing Zachariah in such a plight, and uttered a little scream, but the bottle-green stranger, making her a profound bow, arrested her. “Pardon me, my dear madam, there is nothing seriously the matter. Your husband has had the misfortune to be the victim of a most blackguardly assault; but I am sure that, under your care, he will be all right in a day or two; and, with your permission, I take my leave.” Mrs. Coleman was irritated. The first emotion was not sympathy. Absolutely the first was annoyance at being seen without proper notice by such a fine-looking gentleman. She had, however, no real cause for vexation under this head. She had tied a white handkerchief over her hair, fastening it under her chin, as her manner was when doing her morning’s work, and she had on her white apron; but she was trim and faultless, and the white handkerchief did but set off her black hair and marble complexion. Her second emotion, too, was not sympathy. Zachariah was at home at the wrong time. Her ordinary household arrangements were upset. He might possibly be ill, and then there would be a mess and confusion. The thought of sickness was intolerable to her, because it “put everything out.” Rising up at the back of these two emotions came, haltingly, a third when she looked her husband in the face. She could not help it, and she did really pity him. “I am sure it is very kind of you,” she replied. Zachariah had as yet spoken no word, nor had she moved towards him. The stranger was departing. “Stop!” cried Zachariah, “you have not told me your name. I am too faint to say how much I owe you for your protection and kindness.” “Nonsense. My name is Maitland—Major Maitland, 1A Albany. Good-bye.” He was at the top of the stairs, when he turned round, and looking at Mrs. Coleman, observed musingly, “I think I’ll send my doctor, and, if you will permit me, will call in a day or two.” She thanked him; he took her hand, politely pressed it to his lips, and rode off in the coach which had been waiting for him. “What has happened, my dear? Tell me all about it,” she inquired as she went back into the parlour, with just the least colour on her cheek, and perceptibly a little happier than she was five minutes before. She did nothing more than put her hand on his shoulder, but he brightened immediately. He told her the tale, and when it was over desired to lie down and to have some tea.