I TOOK a chair at a respectful distance from the sofa on whichMrs. Macallan seated herself. The old lady smiled, and beckonedto me to take my place by her side. Judging by appearances, shehad certainly not come to see me in the character of an enemy. Itremained to be discovered I whether she were really disposed tobe 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 youshall presently hear--to comply with his request. Under othercircumstances I doubt very much, my dear child--strange as theconfession may appear--whether I should have ventured into yourpresence. My son has behaved to you so weakly, and (in myopinion) so inexcusably, that I am really, speaking as hismother, almost ashamed to face you."

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

"Your uncle's letter," pursued Mrs. Macallan, "tells me how youhave behaved under your hard trial, and what you propose to donow Eustace has left you. Doctor Starkweather, poor man, seems tobe inexpressibly shocked by what you said to him when he was inLondon. He begs me to use my influence to induce you to abandonyour present ideas, and to make you return to your old home atthe Vicarage. I don't in the least agree with your uncle, mydear. Wild as I believe your plans to be--you have not theslightest chance of succeeding in carrying them out--I admireyour courage, your fidelity, your unshaken faith in my unhappyson, after his unpardonable behavior to you. You are a finecreature, Valeria, and I have come here to tell you so in plainwords. Give me a kiss, child. You deserve to be the wife of ahero, and you have married one of the weakest of living mortals.God forgive me for speaking so of my own son; but it's in mymind, and it must come out!"

This way of speaking of Eustace was more than I could suffer,even from his mother. I recovered the use of my tongue in myhusband's defense.

"I am sincerely proud of your good opinion, dear Mrs. Macallan,"I said. "But you distress me--forgive me if I own itplainly--when I hear you speak so disparagingly of Eustace. Icannot agree with you that my husband is the weakest of livingmortals."

"Of course not!" retorted the old lady. "You are like all goodwomen--you make a hero of the man you love,--whether he deserveit or not. Your husband has hosts of good qualities, child--andperhaps I know them better than you do. But his whole conduct,from the moment when he first entered your uncle's house to thepresent time, has been, I say again, the conduct of anessentially weak man. What do you think he has done now by way ofclimax? He has joined a charitable brotherhood; and he is off tothe war in Spain with a red cross on his arm, when he ought to behere on his knees, asking his wife to forgive him. I say that isthe conduct of a weak man. Some people might call it by a hardername."

This news startled and distressed me. I might be resigned to hisleaving me for a time; but all my instincts as a woman revoltedat his placing himself in a position of danger during hisseparation from his wife. He had now deliberately added to myanxieties. I thought it cruel of him--but I would not confesswhat I thought to his mother. I affected to be as cool as shewas; and I disputed her conclusions with all the firmness that Icould summon to help me. The terrible old woman only went onabusing him more vehemently than ever.

"What I complain of in my son," proceeded Mrs. Macallan, "is thathe has entirely failed to understand you. If he had married afool, his conduct would be intelligible enough. He would havedone wisely to conceal from a fool that he had been marriedalready, and that he had suffered the horrid public exposure of aTrial for the murder of his wife. Then, again, he would have beenquite right, when this same fool had discovered the truth, totake himself out of her way before she could suspect him ofpoisoning he r--for the sake of the peace and quiet of bothparties. But you are not a fool. I can see that, after only ashort experience of you. Why can't he see it too? Why didn't hetrust you with his secret from the first, instead of stealing hisway into your affections under an assumed name? Why did he plan(as he confessed to me) to take you away to the Mediterranean,and to keep you abroad, for fear of some officious friends athome betraying him to you as the prisoner of the famous Trial?What is the plain answer to all these questions? What is the onepossible explanation of this otherwise unaccountable conduct?There is only one answer, and one explanation. My poor, wretchedson--he takes after his father; he isn't the least like me!--isweak: weak in his way of judging, weak in his way of acting, and,like all weak people, headstrong and unreasonable to the lastdegree. There is the truth! Don't get red and angry. I am as fondof him as you are. I can see his merits too. And one of them isthat he has married a woman of spirit and resolution--so faithfuland so fond of him that she won't even let his own mother tellher of his faults. Good child! I like you for hating me!"

"Dear madam, don't say that I hate you!" I exclaimed (feelingvery much as if I did hate her, though, for all that). "I onlypresume to think that you are confusing a delicate-minded manwith a weak-minded man. Our dear unhappy Eustace--"

"Is a delicate-minded man," said the impenetrable Mrs. Macallan,finishing my sentence for me. "We will leave it there, my dear,and get on to another subject. I wonder whether we shall disagreeabout that too?"

"What is the subject, madam?"

"I won't tell you if you call me madam. Call me mother. Say,'What is the subject, mother?'"

"What is the subject, mother?"

"Your notion of turning yourself into a Court of Appeal for a newTrial of Eustace, and forcing the world to pronounce a justverdict on him. Do you really mean to try it?"

"I do!"

Mrs. Macallan considered for a moment grimly with herself.

"You know how heartily I admire your courage, and your devotionto my unfortunate son," she said. "You know by this time that _I_don't cant. But I cannot see you attempt to performimpossibilities; I cannot let you uselessly risk your reputationand your happiness without warning you before it is too late. Mychild, the thing you have got it in your head to do is not to bedone by you or by anybody. Give it up."

"I am deeply obliged to you, Mrs. Macallan--"

"'Mother!'"

"I am deeply obliged to you, mother, for the interest that youtake in me, but I cannot give it up. Right or wrong, risk or norisk, I must and I will try it!"

Mrs. Macallan looked at me very attentively, and sighed toherself.

"Oh, youth, youth!" she said to herself, sadly. "What a grandthing it is to be young!" She controlled the rising regret, andturned on me suddenly, almost fiercely, with these words: "What,in God's name, do you mean to do?"

At the instant when she put the question, the idea crossed mymind that Mrs. Macallan could introduce me, if she pleased, toMiserrimus Dexter. She must know him, and know him well, as aguest at Gleninch and an old friend of her son.

"I mean to consult Miserrimus Dexter," I answered, boldly.

Mrs. Macallan started back from me with a loud exclamation ofsurprise.

"Are you out of your senses?" she asked.

I told her, as I had told Major Fitz-David, that I had reason tothink Mr. Dexter's advice might be of real assistance to me atstarting.

"And I," rejoined Mrs. Macallan, "have reason to think that yourwhole project is a mad one, and that in asking Dexter's advice onit you appropriately consult a madman. You needn't start, child!There is no harm in the creature. I don't mean that he willattack you, or be rude to you. I only say that the last personwhom a young woman, placed in your painful and delicate position,ought to associate herself with is Miserrimus Dexter."

Strange! Here was the Major's warning repeated by Mrs. Macallan,almost in the Major's own words. Well! It shared the fate of mostwarnings. It only made me more and more eager to have my own way.

"You surprise me very much," I said. "Mr. Dexter's evidence,given at the Trial, seems as clear and reasonable as evidence canbe."

"Of course it is!" answered Mrs. Macallan. "The shorthand writersand reporters put his evidence into presentable language beforethey printed it. If you had heard what he really said, as I did,you would have been either very much disgusted with him or verymuch amused by him, according to your way of looking at things.He began, fairly enough, with a modest explanation of his absurdChristian name, which at once checked the merriment of theaudience. But as he went on the mad side of him showed itself. Hemixed up sense and nonsense in the strangest confusion; he wascalled to order over and over again; he was even threatened withfine and imprisonment for contempt of Court. In short, he wasjust like himself--a mixture of the strangest and the mostopposite qualities; at one time perfectly clear and reasonable,as you said just now; at another breaking out into rhapsodies ofthe most outrageous kind, like a man in a state of delirium. Amore entirely unfit person to advise anybody, I tell you again,never lived. You don't expect Me to introduce you to him, Ihope?"

"I did think of such a thing," I answered. "But after what youhave said, dear Mrs. Macallan, I give up the idea, of course. Itis not a great sacrifice--it only obliges me to wait a week forMajor Fitz-David's dinner-party. He has promised to askMiserrimus Dexter to meet me."

"There is the Major all over!" cried the old lady. "If you pinyour faith on that man, I pity you. He is as slippery as an eel.I suppose you asked him to introduce you to Dexter?"

"Yes."

"Exactly! Dexter despises him, my dear. He knows as well as I dothat Dexter won't go to his dinner. And he takes that roundaboutway of keeping you apart, instead of saying No to you plainly,like an honest man.

This was bad news. But I was, as usual, too obstinate to ownmyself defeated.

"If the worst comes to the worst," I said, "I can but write toMr. Dexter, and beg him to grant me an interview."

"And go to him by yourself, if he does grant it?" inquired Mrs.Macallan.

"Certainly. By myself."

"You really mean it?"

"I do, indeed."

"I won't allow you to go by yourself."

"May I venture to ask, ma'am how you propose to prevent me?"

"By going with you, to be sure, you obstinate hussy! Yes, yes--Ican be as headstrong as you are when I like. Mind! I don't wantto know what your plans are. I don't want to be mixed up withyour plans. My son is resigned to the Scotch Verdict. I amresigned to the Scotch Verdict. It is you who won't let mattersrest as they are. You are a vain and foolhardy young person. But,somehow, I have taken a liking to you, and I won't let you go toMiserrimus Dexter by yourself. Put on your bonnet!"

"Now?" I asked.

"Certainly! My carriage is at the door. And the sooner it's overthe better I shall be pleased. Get ready--and be quick about it!"

I required no second bidding. In ten minutes more we were on ourway to Miserrimus Dexter.

Such was the result of my mother-in-law's visit!