To Maryllia she said:
"You may take my word for it, Miss! They'll all go out of the 'ouse 'fore seven o'clock. I'll send them myself to the post."
"Thank you, so much!" said Maryllia, with a comical little sigh of relief. "And now, Spruce, I will go to my bedroom and lie down for an hour. I'm just a little tired. Have you managed to get a maid for me?"
"Well, Miss, there's jest a gel-she don't know anythink much, but she's 'andy and willin' and 'umble, and quick with her needle, and tidy at foldin', and got a good character. She's the best I could do, Miss. Her name is Nancy Pyrle—I'll send her to you directly."
"Yes, do!" answered Miss Vancourt, with a little yawn; "And show me to my rooms;—you prepared the ones I told you—my mother's rooms?"
"Yes, Miss," answered Mrs. Spruce in subdued accents; "I've made them all fresh and sweet and clean; but of course the furniture is left jest as it was when the Squire locked 'em all up after he lost his lady—"
Maryllia said nothing, but followed the housekeeper upstairs, the great dog Plato in attendance on her steps. On reaching the bedroom, hung with faded rose silk hangings, and furnished with sixteenth century oak, she looked at everything: with a curious wistfulness and reverence. Approaching the dressing-table, she glanced at her own reflection in the mirror; but fair as the reflection was that glanced back at her, she gave it no smile. She was serious and absorbed, and her eyes were clouded with a sudden mist of tears. Mrs. Spruce took the opportunity to slip away with her collection of peacocks' feathers, and descended in haste to the kitchen, where for some time the various orders she issued caused much domestic perturbation, and fully expressed the chaotic condition of her own mind. The maid, Nancy Pyrle, was hustled off to 'wait on Miss Vancourt upstairs, and don't be clumsy with your 'ands, whatever you do!'—Primmins, the butler, was sent to remove the tea-things from the morning-room,—at which command he turned round somewhat indignantly, asking 'who are you a-orderin' of; don't you think I know my business?'—Spruce himself, unhappily coming by chance to the kitchen door to ask if it was really true that Miss Vancourt had arrived, was shrilly told to 'go along and mind his own business,'— and so it happened that when Bainton appeared, charged with the Reverend John Walden's message concerning the Five Sisters, he might as well have tried to obtain an unprepared audience with the King, as to see or speak with the lady of the Manor. Miss Vancourt had arrived—oh yes, she had certainly arrived, Mrs. Spruce told him, with much heat and energy; but she was tired and was lying down, and certainly could not be asked to see anyone, no matter what the business was. And to make things more emphatic, at the very time that Bainton was urging his cause, and Mrs. Spruce was firmly rejecting it, Nancy Pyrle came down from attendance on her mistress and said that Miss Vancourt was going to sleep a little, and she did not wish to be disturbed till she rang her bell.
"Oh, and she's beautiful!" said Nancy, drawing a long breath,—"and so very kind! She showed me how to do all she wanted—and was that patient and gentle! She says I'll make quite a good maid after a bit!"
"Well, I hope to the Lord you will!" said Mrs. Spruce with a sniffy "For it's a chance in a 'undred, comin' straight out of the village to a first situation with, a lady like Miss Vancourt. And I 'ope you'll profit by it! And if you 'adn't taken the prize for needlework in the school, you wouldn't 'ave 'ad it, so now you sees what good it does to serve your elders when you're young." Here she turned to Bainton, who was standing disconsolately half in and half out of the kitchen doorway. "I'm real sorry, Mr. Bainton, that you can't see our lady, more 'specially as you wishes to give a message from Passon Walden himself—but you jest go back and tell 'im 'ow it is;—Miss Vancourt is restin' and can't be disturbed nohow."
Bainton twirled his cap nervously in his hand.