"Her Grace will see you, Miss Wickham," he said.
I entered the house, and following the footman up some winding stairs and down some corridors, I was shown into the small boudoir where the Duchess generally sat in the morning. She was fully dressed, and busily writing notes.
"That will do, Hartop," she said to the man; "close the door, please. Now then, Westenra, what is the meaning of this? What eccentric whim has induced you to visit me at so early an hour?"
"I wanted to tell you something," I said; "mother is awfully distressed, but I thought you had better know."
"How queer you look, my child, and yet I seldom saw you brighter or handsomer. Take off your hat and sit near me. No, I am not specially busy. Is it about the Russells' reception? Oh, I can take you if your mother is not strong enough. You want to consult me over your dress? Oh, my dear Westenra, you must wear——"
"It has nothing to do with that," I interrupted. "Please let me speak. I want to say something so badly. I want to consult you."
"Of course," said her Grace.
She laid her jewelled hand on my arm. How I loved that white hand! How I adored my beautiful old friend! It would be painful to give her up. Was she going to give me up?
"I will tell you something quite frankly," I said. "I love you very much; you have always been kind to me."
"I am your godmother, don't forget."