me useful or agreeable to your enchanting
sex. You won't forget our little dinner? I will send Dexter his
invitation the moment I get home." He took my hand and looked at it
critically, with his head a little on one side. "A delicious hand," he
said; "you don't mind my looking at it--you don't mind my kissing it, do
you? A delicious hand is one of my weaknesses. Forgive my weaknesses. I
promise to repent and amend one of these days."

"At your age, Major, do you think you have much time to lose?" asked a
strange voice, speaking behind us.

We all three looked around toward the door. There stood my husband's
mother, smiling satirically, with Benjamin's shy little maid-servant
waiting to announce her.

Major Fitz-David was ready with his answer.

The old soldier was not easily taken by surprise.

"Age, my dear Mrs. Macallan, is a purely relative expression," he said.
"There are some people who are never young, and there are other people
who are never old. I am one of the other people. _Au revoir!_"

With that answer the incorrigible Major kissed the tips of his fingers
to us and walked out. Benjamin, bowing with his old-fashioned courtesy,
threw open the door of his little library, and, inviting Mrs. Macallan
and myself to pass in, left us together in the room.

CHAPTER XXIII

MY MOTHER-IN-LAW SURPRISES ME.

I TOOK a chair at a respectful distance from the sofa on which Mrs.
Macallan seated herself. The old lady smiled, and beckoned to me to take
my place by her side. Judging by appearances, she had certainly not come
to see me in the character of an enemy. It remained to be discovered I
whether she were really disposed to be my friend.

"I have received a letter from your uncle the vicar," she began. "He
asks me to visit you, and I am happy--for reasons which you shall
presently hear--to comply with his request. Under other circumstances
I doubt very much, my dear child--strange as the confession may
appear--whether I should have ventured into your presence. My son has
behaved to you so weakly, and (in my opinion) so inexcusably, that I am
really, speaking as his mother, almost ashamed to face you."

Was she in earnest? I listened to her and looked at her in amazement.

"Your uncle's letter," pursued Mrs. Macallan, "tells me how you have
behaved under your hard trial, and what you propose to do now Eustace
has left you. Doctor Starkweather, poor man, seems to be inexpressibly
shocked by what you said t