“Her ladyship isn’t in, Sir Murray.”
“Not in?”
“No, Sir Murray; I wanted to see her about the blue-room chandelier, and went up, but she was not there; and Barker said, sir, she had just put on her things and gone out.”
“Did she order the pony-carriage?”
“No, Sir Murray; her ladyship often goes out walking.”
In spite of himself, Sir Murray Gernon started; for after months of waiting, it seemed to come to him with a sudden light flashing in upon his mind that he had found that which he had sought. He looked up the next moment in his servant’s face, trembling for his pride. Did that sallow, shivering creature who took his pay, and who had been trembling for fear of his frown, read his thoughts? Did he share his suspicions? For a moment, as he caught his eye, Sir Murray felt as if he could strangle him. It seemed to him that this man would henceforth possess a hold upon him, and assert himself upon the strength of his knowledge.
The baronet could hardly arrest a groan; but he sat there, stern and immovable, fighting behind his mask of pride, to regain his composure before again speaking.
“Let me know when her ladyship comes in—at least,” he said, correcting himself, “ask her if she will see me upon her return.”
“Yes, Sir Murray.”
“That will do. You can go,” said the baronet, for the man still lingered as if about to speak; but the next moment he made a low bow and left the room.