“That will do. Ah! see, I am trusting you, despite all I had said about honest men. Do not tell why I wish to see her; promise that.”
“I will not mention it; and mind, I should like you to be present as well. If there has been any error we shall discover it then.”
That very evening Stephen Conyers went over to Leeholme and contrived to see the lady’s maid. Pretty, coquettish Susan was slightly agitated.
“What can Sir Ronald Alden want with me?” she asked. “Is May Thorne leaving Lady Clarice?”
“I do not think so. You will be sure to be in the Thringston road, Susan?”
“I shall not forget,” she replied; and the groom felt pretty sure that feminine curiosity, if no other motive, would take her.
Imagine a long, winding high road, bordered on both sides with tall trees, whose branches sometimes formed a shady arch. Underneath the trees, walking impatiently, looking from right to left, was Sir Ronald Alden. His handsome face was pale with agitation; it seemed to him that they never would come.
Then, from between the clustering foliage, he saw two figures—one was Stephen Conyers, the groom, the other the pretty, coquettish Susan Fielding, Lady Hermione’s maid. His face flushed hotly, for it struck him that for an Alden to hold an interview of the kind with two servants was derogatory to dignity. Yet, unless he did it, how was he ever to find out the truth?
Susan made her most respectful curtsy. The master of Aldenmere was an important person, and that he should express a wish to see her had filled her with wonder and curiosity.
They stood together under the great, spreading foliage, a curious group.