I was therefore the more surprised to hear voices from the interior, and to recognize one of these voices as Lord Bulmer's. I hesitated a moment what to do. The path ran close under the window, which however was raised a good deal on this side, and as the ground was soft, and the shade very deep, I thought I might slip by unperceived. Just as I came under the window, I heard Lord Bulmer say—
"Let him alone—let him alone. Let my lady manage; she will give him no rest till she gets him away to Edinburgh, and then she will take matters into her own hands."
"And your lordship will not forget to put in a word for me!" said another voice which I did not know for the moment.
"No, no! You shall have your black-eyed damsel, Dangerfield. 'Tis a pretty creature, too—far more attractive to my eye than yonder statue of snow."
I did not wait to hear more, but stole past the window and, once within the shadow of the wood, I ran like a hare till I reached the neighborhood of the gardens. As ill-luck would have it, I met my lady face to face in the gallery.
"So, girl, you have been playing truant!" said she. "I have been sending to seek you everywhere."
"No, madam!" I answered respectfully, for I always strove to act in such a way as to give her no handle against me. "Miss Leighton gave me leave to go out, and I have been to see Mrs. Deborah and the old women at the village."
"Mrs. Deborah! Mrs. Deborah may find—but that does not matter now. Come into my room."
I followed her, wondering what could be coming next.
My lady had taken Mrs. Philippa's apartment for her own, and had fitted it up much in the style of the room in Newcastle, that I remembered so well; with painted jars and china monsters, and all kinds of decorations in painting, and shell-work, and flower-work, and all the other ornamental works that ever were invented. The air was heavy with the same scents I so well recollected, and warm with a fire burning on the hearth. My lady threw herself into a great chair and I stood before her, noticing as I did so, how worn she looked, and how her wonderful beauty—for it was something wonderful even yet—seemed like a mask put on to hide the real woman underneath. She always gave me the odd idea of a spirit of some kind, inhabiting a body that was never made for it.