"Not been out of the house all the morning! what does that mean? Who was here yesterday?"
"Yesterday," said the old man slowly considering; "there were Sandcrack coom oop about Telegram's navicular,--no more navicular than I am; nowt but a sprain;--and Wallis from Wethers's wi' a pair o' job grays; and old Mr. Isaacson as tried some pheayton 'osses; and--"
"Yes, yes," said Mr. Simnel; "no young man; no one in the habit of coming here?"
"Not one," said Freeman.
"That's devilish odd," said Mr. Simnel, half to himself; "what the deuce has happened to upset her? I'll go in and see. Good-day, Freeman; I've brought some good news for your mistress, and I hope we shall soon see her herself again."
The old man touched his hat, as Simnel walked off to the house, where he found Kate's servant, and learnt from her that her mistress had kept her room all the morning, complaining of headache. From this domestic Mr. Simnel had a repetition of old Freeman's story. Not only had she seemingly lost all interest in her business, which formerly so thoroughly engrossed her attention, but for the last few months she had been in every respect a thoroughly changed woman.
"I've been with her four year," said the woman, holding her hands clasped in front of her, and beating time with them at the conclusion of each sentence; "four year I've been with her, and never see no megrims. A cheerfuller lighter-hearteder lady there were not, so long as you was quick. Every thing must be done directly minute, and all was right. But latterly there's been nothink but megrims and lowness of sperrits, and no caring for what we wears or what we eats, or whether we eats at all, indeed." This and much more to the same effect, only cut short by Simnel's requesting the woman to take his name to her mistress, and say he was anxious for a few words with her.
He sat down in the dining-room and took up a Bell's Life which lay on the table; but had hardly glanced at it when the door was hurriedly thrown open and Kate entered. She was perfectly colourless and trembled violently. As she gave her cold hand to Simnel, she asked at once,
"What's the matter, Simnel? what's brought you here? Something particular to say, they tell me. What is it?"
Though Mr. Simnel was in reality very much shocked at the change which had taken place in her personal appearance, he did not betray it by look or word. There was not a break in his voice as, retaining her hand between his, he said,