"Come on some errand from her mistress to the housekeeper, most likely," answered Webb.
"At first I almost thought it was old Jessup's daughter; but for the lift of her head, and the swing in her walk, one might take her for that."
"Old Jessup's daughter! Don't talk like a fool, Webb," said the young man, rising to his elbow again, flushed and angry. "As if there could be a comparison."
Webb very sensibly made no reply to this; but thinking that his master might be vexed because Lady Rose had not brought her usual offering of flowers that morning, changed the subject with crafty adroitness.
"Lady Rose has gone out to drive in the pony carriage. Sir Hugh would have it so," he explained.
"Yes, I dare say," muttered Hurst, indifferently. "She stays about the house too much. It is very tiresome for her."
The young man never closed his eyes after this, and, with both hands under his head, lay thinking.
"It was so real. I felt her kiss on my lips when I awoke. Her hand was in mine. She looked frightened. She left something. Webb! Webb!"
"Yes, Mr. Walton!"
"Look on the bed. I have lost something—a paper. Find it for me. Find it."