Amphillis followed, silent, curious, and a little fluttered.
They passed under the entrance arch inwards, and found themselves in a smaller garden than the outer, enclosed on three sides by the house and its adjacent outbuildings. In the midst was a spreading tree, with a form underneath it; and in its shade sat a lady and a girl about the age of Amphillis. Another girl was gathering flowers, and an elderly woman was coming towards the tree from behind. Saint Oly conducted Amphillis to the lady who sat under the tree.
“Dame,” said he, “here, under your good leave, is Mistress Amphillis Neville, that is come to you from London town, to serve her you wot of.”
This, then, was Lady Foljambe. Amphillis looked up, and saw a tall, handsome, fair-complexioned woman, with a rather grave, not to say stern, expression of face. “Good,” said Lady Foljambe. “You are welcome, Mistress Neville. I trust you can do your duty, and not giggle and chatter?”
The girl who sat by certainly giggled on hearing this question, and Lady Foljambe extinguished her by a look.
“I will do my best, Dame,” replied Amphillis, nervously.
“None can do more,” said her Ladyship more graciously. “Are you aweary with your journey?”
“But a little, Dame, I thank you. Our stage to-day was but short.”
“You left your friends well?” was the next condescending query.
“Yes, Dame, I thank you.”