“Bless you, no!” said she, with a sorrowful shake of the head; and then she sighed and continued: “But to tell you the truth, ma’am, I don’t like master’s ways of going on.”
“What do you mean, Rachel? He’s going on very properly at present.”
“Well, ma’am, if you think so, it’s right.”
And she went on dressing my hair, in a hurried way, quite unlike her usual calm, collected manner, murmuring, half to herself, she was sure it was beautiful hair: she “could like to see ’em match it.” When it was done, she fondly stroked it, and gently patted my head.
“Is that affectionate ebullition intended for my hair, or myself, nurse?” said I, laughingly turning round upon her; but a tear was even now in her eye.
“What do you mean, Rachel?” I exclaimed.
“Well, ma’am, I don’t know; but if—”
“If what?”
“Well, if I was you, I wouldn’t have that Lady Lowborough in the house another minute—not another minute I wouldn’t!
I was thunderstruck; but before I could recover from the shock sufficiently to demand an explanation, Milicent entered my room, as she frequently does when she is dressed before me; and she stayed with me till it was time to go down. She must have found me a very unsociable companion this time, for Rachel’s last words rang in my ears. But still I hoped, I trusted they had no foundation but in some idle rumour of the servants from what they had seen in Lady Lowborough’s manner last month; or perhaps from something that had passed between their master and her during her former visit. At dinner I narrowly observed both her and Arthur, and saw nothing extraordinary in the conduct of either, nothing calculated to excite suspicion, except in distrustful minds, which mine was not, and therefore I would not suspect.