“Is your mistress at home, Jeanie?” said he, recognizing with a smile the girl's courtesy to him.
“Yes, sir, she's at home,” was the dry answer.
“Will you just tell her, then, that Sir Arthur Lyle would take it as a great favor if she'd permit him to speak to her?”
The girl disappeared with the message, but did not return again for several minutes; and when she did, she looked slightly agitated. “My mistress is very sorry, sir, but she canna see ye the day; it's a sort of a headache she has.”
“Mr. Anthony, is he at home?” asked he, curious to remark the effect of his question.
“He's no just at name the noo,” was the cautious reply.
“He has not been up at the Abbey to-day,” said he, carelessly; “but, to be sure, I came through the 'bracken,' and might have missed him.”
A little dry nod of the head, to acknowledge that this or anything else was possible, was all that his speech elicited.
“Say that I was very sorry, Jeanie, that Mrs. Butler could not see me, and sorrier for the reason; but that I hope tomorrow or next day to be more fortunate. Not,” added he, after a second thought, “that what I wanted to speak of is important, except to myself; don't forget this, Jeanie.”
“I winna forget,” said she; and courtesying again, closed the door. Sir Arthur rode slowly back to report that his embassy had failed.