"I am coming, too. Does her ladyship know?" inquired Aunt Penelope.
"She said Miss Dalrymple," replied the man.
"Nonsense!" said Aunt Penelope. "We'll all come, my good man. Will you have the kindness to show the way? Now march, please; although you're wearing such a smart livery, you're not nearly such a good servant as my boy Jonas."
The man's name was Robert, and he was one of the most superior servants of the house, and I really felt annoyed with Aunt Penelope for attacking him in this fashion. He got very red, but then his eyes met mine, and something in my eyes must have begged of him to be patient, for he certainly was patient, and then, without another word, he went before us, and we three followed, and a minute or two later we were in Lady Helen's presence.
I was at once relieved and surprised to find that my father was not there. It happened to be a very hot day; it was now July, and London was suffering from a spell of intensely hot weather. Lady Helen's sitting-room looked very cool and inviting. There were soft, bluey-green blinds draped across the windows—the effect was a sort of bluey-grey mist, at once refreshing and becoming. There were quantities of flowers in the room, so much so that Aunt Penelope began to sniff at once. She sniffed audibly, and said in a loud aside to Vernon:
"No wonder the poor woman looks ill; such a strong smell of flowers is bad for anyone."
Lady Helen herself was in a most wonderful make-up that morning. She had a very elegant figure, notwithstanding her years. She was dressed in the extreme height of the prevailing mode, and looked—that is, until the full light of day shone upon her—like a woman who was between forty and fifty, at most. She must have been wearing a completely new arrangement on her head; I cannot call it her own hair, for I happened to know that it was only hers in the sense that she had honestly paid for it. It was of a pale golden shade; when last I saw her she was wearing chestnut curls. This coiffure was arranged in the most becoming manner on the top of her head, and fell in soft little ringlets round her ears and about her neck. Her dress was of the "coat and skirt" style, cut in tailor fashion, and extremely smart. On the back of her golden head she wore an enormous black crinoline hat, trimmed with great ostrich tips; altogether her appearance was too wonderful for Aunt Penelope to bear long with patience. She was standing up as we entered the room, and now she came quickly towards us.
"How do you do, Heather?" she said to me. "I am quite willing to see you again, but this lady and this gentleman!"
"You know me very well, Lady Helen," said Vernon. "I am that Captain Carbury who stood by your brother's death-bed—who hold his written confession, and who is about to marry Heather Grayson."
"All nonsense, all nonsense!" said Lady Helen.