“Madam, my Lady bids you right heartily farewell, and prays you accept this cloak to lap you at night in your journey, with her loving commendations: ’tis of her Ladyship’s own wearing.”
It was considered at that time to add zest to a gift, if it had been used by the giver.
Lady Louvaine returned a message suited to the gratitude and pleasure which she felt at this timely remembrance, and the coach rolled away, leaving London behind.
“Weel, God be wi’ thee and all thine!” said Charity, looking back at the great metropolis: “and if I ne’er see thee again, it’ll none break my heart.”
“Nay, nor mine nother!” added Rachel. “I can tell thee, lass, I’m fair fain to get out o’ th’ smoke and mire. Th’ devil mun dwell i’ London, I do think.”
“I doubt it not,” said Hans, who heard the remark, “but he has country houses, Rachel.”
“Well!” said that damsel, in a satisfied tone: “at any rate, we shalln’t find him at Selwick!”
“Maybe not, if the house be empty,” was Hans’s reply: “but he will come in when we do, take my word for it.”
“Yo’re reet, Mestur ’Ans,” said Charity, gravely.
Four days’ travelling brought them to the door of the Hill House at Minster Lovel. They had had no opportunity of sending word of their coming.