The baronet bit his lip. “I don't know, I'm sure, Haldane. It is true, since my mother has gone to town, that nothing we can do can bring her back in time for——But at all events there can be no harm in asking how long she is likely to be away.—Ah, here is Mistress Forest. We want to hear about my Lady, Mary. She has gone to London, it seems, and we are not to know why until the day after to-morrow. Now, we are not going to ask you her reasons.”
“Thank you, Sir Richard,” said Mistress Forest, her puckered eyes looking really grateful.
“But what we do desire is, that you will tell us how long she will be away.”
“I am sure I can't tell, sir; Heaven knows I wish. I could,” answered the waiting-maid fervently. “She sent a big box over to Dalwynch by the carrier yesterday: that's all I know about it.”
“Then she herself is not going to give us the explanation in person, you think?” said the baronet gloomily.
“No, Sir Richard: not in person; at least, I believe not. Somebody else is going to do that for her.”
“And you know who that will be?” returned the young man sternly.
“I think—at least; yes, I know, sir; but it's not me,” added the waiting-maid hastily. “I hope I know my place better than that. But my Lady bade me say nothing about it, and, with all respect, wild horses should not tear it from me.”
Here Mistress Forest, who had always entertained considerable terror of her austere young master, could not forbear casting a beseeching glance towards Arthur Haldane.
“We already know from Mr Haldane's own lips,” observed Sir Richard with emphasis, and looking in the same direction, “that he is not in possession of the secret of my Lady's departure.”