"What did you say, Oliver, when she asked for me?" inquired a man's voice, pitched cautiously in a low key.
"I said I was not sure you were at home, sir," answered the voice of the servant who had let me in.
There was a pause. The first speaker was evidently Major Fitz-David himself. I waited to hear more.
"I think I had better not see her, Oliver," the Major's voice resumed.
"Very good, sir."
"Say I have gone out, and you don't know when I shall be back again. Beg the lady to write, if she has any business with me."
"Yes, sir."
"Stop, Oliver!"
Oliver stopped. There was another and longer pause. Then the master resumed the examination of the man.
"Is she young, Oliver?"
"Yes, sir."
"And--pretty?"
"Better than pretty, sir, to my thinking."
"Aye? aye? What you call a fine woman--eh, Oliver?"
"Certainly, sir."
"Tall?"
"Nearly as tall as I am, Major."
"Aye? aye? aye? A good figure?"
"As slim as a sapling, sir, and as upright as a dart."
"On second thoughts, I am at home, Oliver. Show her in! show her in!"
So far, one thing at least seemed to be clear. I had done well in sending for the chambermaid. What would Oliver's report of me have been if I had presented myself to him with my colorless cheeks and my ill-dressed hair?
The servant reappeared, and conducted me to the inner room. Major Fitz-David advanced to welcome me. What was the Major like?
Well, he was like a well-preserved old gentleman of, say, sixty years old, little and lean, and chiefly remarkable by the extraordinary length of his nose. After this feature, I noticed next his beautiful brown wig; his sparkling little gray eyes; his rosy complexion; his short military whisker, dyed to match his wig; his white teeth and his winning smile; his smart blue frock-coat, with a camellia in the button-hole; and his splendid ring, a ruby, flashing on his little finger as he courteously signed to me to take a chair.
"Dear Mrs. Woodville, how very kind of you this is! I have been longing to have the happiness of knowing you. Eustace is an old friend of mine. I congratulated him when I heard of his marriage. May I make a confession?--I envy him now I have seen his wife."
The future of my life was perhaps in this man's hands. I studied him attentively: I tried to read his character in his face.