The man hesitated. Then the old woman stepped softly into the hall, passing him so suddenly that he drew back aghast.
"If you will not go, I must find the way for myself," she said, still in a voice so gentle that he could take little offence at it.
Her composure rather disturbed the man, who gave his powdered head a toss, and mounted the broad oaken staircase, with an indignant swell of the chest. Through a long passage, carpeted with the thickness of forest turf, he went, giving forth no sound till he opened a door in one of the lower chambers, and, sweeping a curtain of crimson silk back with his arm, announced the name that old woman had given him at the door.
Something lying under the rich colors of a great India shawl moved quickly; the shawl dropped to the floor, and a little old woman sat up on the couch where she had been resting.
"Yates—Hannah Yates? Did you say Yates, Henry?"
"That was the name, my lady."
"An old woman like me?"
"Old enough, my lady; but Heaven forbid I should say like your ladyship. I could not force myself to do it."
"Bring her here, Henry."
The door closed, and the old countess drew herself gradually upright.