Valeria's account; that his mysterious journeys to London had been made in her interests—troublesome journeys to interview Jew money-lenders, to renew bills and tide over difficulties.
And now Valeria was a widow, and would have been able to exact the fulfilment of old vows—breathed under tropical stars, far away in that Eastern land which they both loved: she would have been able to claim him as her slave, if he had not boldly broken his fetters in that last interview at Fox Hill.
"Thank God I delayed no longer!" he said to himself; "thank God I got my release before this happened!"
And then he thought sadly, affectionately, of his old friend; and he remembered with thankfulness that last meeting, that farewell grasp of the good man's hand which he had been able to return as honestly as it was given.
"Why did I ever sin against him?" he asked himself. "What an arrant sneak I must have been!"
"You will go to General Harborough's funeral, I suppose?" said Dora presently.
"Yes, of course I must be at the funeral. When does it take place?"
"To-morrow."
"Yes, I shall go without doubt. I shall join the procession at the cemetery. As I am not invited, there will be no need for me to go to the house."
"I suppose not. The poor widow will feel the blow terribly, no doubt."
"Yes, I have no doubt she will be sorry."
This was not a lie. Bothwell thought that even Valeria could not fail to feel some touch of sorrow for the loss of that chivalrous friend and benefactor, the man who had given so much, and had received so poor a return for his gifts. There would be the anguish of a guilty conscience; even if there were no other form of sorrow.
"But, as I suppose she is elderly too, perhaps she will not survive him very long," pursued Dora, infinitely compassionate for the woes of a broken-hearted widow.
"Lady Valeria elderly!" exclaimed Bothwell. "She is not thirty."
"What, was your good General Harborough so foolish as to marry a girl?"
"Yes. It was the only foolishness of his life that I have ever heard of; and he was so kind to the woman he married that he might be pardoned for his folly."
"I hope she was fond of him, and worthy of him."
Bothwell did not enter upon the question, and his reticence about Lady Valeria Harborough struck Dora as altogether at variance with his natural frankness. And then she remembered that unexplained entanglement which he had confessed to her—
