“Oh! the general,” remarked Mrs. Wilders, as she was generally styled—­the title Countess was only used by intimate friends—­in a tone that implied she was not at all bound by her husband’s plans.

“Where is the good man just now?” inquired Lord Lydstone, in much the same tone.

“There, forward,” said Mrs. Wilders, pointing to the part of the deck beyond the awning.  “Trying to get a sunstroke by walking about with his head bare.”

“He does that on principle, Countess, don’t you know.  He wants to harden his cranium, in case he loses his hat some day in action.”

“I hope he may never go into action.  If he does, I should be sorry for his men.”

“Not for him?”

“That may be taken for granted,” she replied, in a matter-of-fact way.

“How fond you are of him!  What devoted affection!  It’s lucky you have little to spare!”

“I keep it for the proper person.”

“Is there none for his relatives?” asked Lydstone, with a meaning look.

“Do any of them deserve my affection?”

“I try very hard, Countess; and I should so value the smallest crumb.”

“Don’t be foolish, Lord Lydstone! you must not try to make love to me; it would be wrong.  Besides, we are too nearly connected now.”

“You never throw me a single kind word, Blanche.”

“Certainly not.  I won’t have it on my conscience that I led you astray, poor innocent lamb!  A fine thing!  What would your people say?  They’re bitter enough against me as it is!”

The Essendines had never properly acknowledged Colonel Wilders’s marriage, or treated his wife, the foreign countess, other than with the coldest contempt.  Lord Lydstone knew this, and knew too that his mother was right; yet he could not defend her when this woman, whom he admired still—­too much, indeed, for his peace of mind—­resented her treatment.

“Your mother has behaved disgracefully to me—­that you must admit, Lord Lydstone.”

“She is an old-fashioned, old-world lady, with peculiar straitlaced notions of her own.  But, if you please, we won’t talk about her.”

“Why not?  You cannot pretend that she was right in ignoring me, flouting me, insulting me!  Am I not your near relative’s wife?  Why, Bill is only four off the title now.”

“One of them being your humble servant, who devoutly hopes that all four will long interpose between him and the succession,” said Lord Lydstone, with a pleasant laugh.

“I don’t wish you any harm, of course; still it is as I say, and my son—­”

“Aged two, and at present in England at nurse.”

“—­May be the future Earl of Essendine.”

“He shan’t be, if I can prevent it!” cried Lord Lydstone, gaily; “you may rely on that.  But, I say, here is a smart gig coming off from the shore.  I believe the Governor has sent his own barge for you.  Here, Bill!  I say, Bill!”