The housekeeper preceded the ladies into the great oak-carved hall, and threw open a door to the right.
“Miss Turquand had some idea of staying here for to-night, if not for a couple of days,” said Lady Quaintree, gazing around through her gold-rimmed glasses. “Would you be able to accommodate us?”
“Certainly, my lady. You would wish to dine here?”
“If it could be managed—yes,” said Lady Quaintree.
“I had better order your carriage round to the stables, then, my lady.”
“My dearest Blanche, you will surely stay till morning?” said Lady Quaintree, who seemed far more the mistress than Lois, who had wandered to one of the long, wide windows, and was regarding the highly cultivated garden with pleasure and interest.
“Mama would be alarmed——”
“Nonsense! I will send word by Stephen, your groom, that your mama is not to expect her dear Blanchette till she sees her. Come, that is settled.”
To Blanche, who loved adventure and novelty, while her daily existence bordered almost on monotony, the little escapade proposed was by no means unacceptable.
With the vivid fancy of a lively young girl, she already looked forward to a not very far-distant period, when gay revels under the auspices of her new friend should wake this fair solitude.