e, for I always
told him the plain truth. It would have spared him something; but
nobody would trust my account of you.'

The morning came, and with it Madison; but patient as Fitzjocelyn
usually was, he was extremely annoyed at finding his precious time
wasted by Robson's delay in keeping his appointment. After allowing
for differing clocks, for tropical habits, and every other imaginable
excuse for unpunctuality, he decided that there must have been some
mistake, and set off to call at the counting-house.

A black porter opened the door, and he stepped forward into the inner
room, where, leaning lazily back before a desk, smoking a cigar over
his newspaper, arrayed in a loose white jacket, with open throat and
slippered feet, reposed a gentleman, much transformed from the spruce
butler, but not difficult of recognition. He started to his feet with
equal alacrity and consternation, and bowed, not committing himself
until he should see whether he were actually known to his lordship.
Fitzjocelyn was in too great haste to pause on this matter, and quickly
acknowledging the salutation, as if that of a stranger, demanded where
Mr. Robson was.

In genuine surprise and alarm, Ford exclaimed that he had not seen him;
he thought he was gone to meet his lordship at the Consular residence.
No! could he be at his own house? It was close by, and the question
was asked, but the Senor Robson had gone out in the very early morning.
Ford looked paler and paler, and while Louis said he would go and
inquire for him at Miss Ponsonby's, offered to go down to the Consul's
to see if he had arrived there in the meantime.

Mary came to meet Louis in the sala, saying that she was afraid that
they had not shown sufficient consideration for poor Dona Rosita, who
really had feeling; she had gone early to her convent, and had not yet
returned, though she had been absent two hours.

Louis had but just explained his perplexity and vexation, when the old
negro Xavier came in with looks of alarm, begging to know whether La
Senora were come in, and excusing himself for having lost sight of her.
She had not gone to the convent, but to the cathedral; and he, kneeling
in the crowded nave while she passed on to one of the side chapels, had
not seen her again, and, after waiting far beyond the usual duration of
her devotions, had supposed that she had gone home unattended.

As he finished his story, there was a summons to Lord Fitzjocelyn to
speak