Sir Rupert Harborough had departed with his "splendid friend" Chichester for the Continent; and she was completely her own mistress. She had no one to interfere with her plans or pursuits, for her lady's maid was entirely devoted to her interests. However others suffered or waited in respect to pecuniary matters, Sarah—the aforesaid lady's maid, or cameriste—was always well and regularly paid.
It was by no means an uninteresting scene to behold the attention and zeal with which Sarah seconded her mistress's determination to make the most of her charms upon the present occasion.
Lady Cecilia was seated near her toilet-table, with a little gilt-edged oval-shaped mirror in her hands, which reposed in her lap; and Sarah was engaged in arranging the really beautiful hair of her mistress.
"What o'clock is it, Sarah?" inquired Lady Cecilia, casting a complacent glance at herself in the large looking-glass upon her toilet-table.
"It must be nearly one, my lady," was the reply.
"Then you have no time to lose, Sarah. The ringlets are quite divine; pray take equal pains with the back-hair. Do you think that I look better in ringlets or in bands?"
"In ringlets, my lady."
"And if I had my hair in bands, and asked you the same question, you would reply, 'In bands.'"
"Your ladyship cannot think that I am so insincere," said the cameriste.
"Do you fancy me in this dress, Sarah?" asked the lady, heedless of her domestic's observation.