Her ladyship was in her new closet with Mistress Anne, and there the lacquey came to her to deliver his errand.
“A country-bred young woman, your ladyship,” he said, “comes from Sir John Oxon—”
“From Sir John Oxon!” cried Anne, starting in her chair.
My Lady Dunstanwolde made no start, but turned a steady countenance towards the door, looking into the lacquey’s face.
“Then he hath returned?” she said.
“Returned!” said Anne.
“After the morning he rode home with me,” my lady answered, “’twas said he went away. He left his lodgings without warning. It seems he hath come back. What does the woman want?” she ended.
“To speak with your ladyship,” replied the man, “of Sir John himself, she says.”
“Bring her to me,” her ladyship commanded.
The girl was brought in, overawed and trembling. She was a country-bred young creature, as the lacquey had said, being of the simple rose-and-white freshness of seventeen years perhaps, and having childish blue eyes and fair curling locks.