CHAPTER XV.
THE MISTRESS OF FLORE HALL.
Lady Quaintree had taken a fancy into her head that she should like to see the old Hall which now owned Miss Lois Turquand as proprietress. Therefore, she carried off the young girl, her maid, and a couple of male servants, on a hasty expedition.
“We will not send word we are coming, my dear,” she half-suggested, half-commanded. “It will be most advisable to seize the people who have the care of the place by surprise.”
Her ladyship knew nothing of the fact that Mrs. Turquand had once lived at Flore Hall in service. Lois had never heard her mother refer to her girl days, and was equally ignorant with Lady Quaintree that the almost elegant, proud woman she remembered as her mother had originally occupied so obscure and humble a position as lady’s-maid to a country squire’s wife.
“We must engage a maid for you, my love,” said Lady Quaintree. “It will be impossible for you to manage without one.”
Lois laughed with some gaiety, but did not answer.
The journey was easily performed, without adventure. The way was as pleasant as sunny skies, beautiful, constantly changing scenery, and easy transit could render it.
On arriving at Holston, in the evening, Lady Quaintree found a carriage waiting at the station, for she had sent intelligence of her advent to some friends in the vicinity, and piqued their curiosity by hints of the beauty and romantic history of a charming young friend she was bringing with her.
Not only a carriage, but a very pretty girl waited the arrival of the expected guests. This girl was the daughter of the old friends to whom Lady Quaintree was going to pay what she had called “a flying visit.” She was in the waiting-room, a bare, wooden-benched nook, where her presence seemed like the veriest sunshine in a shady place.