Then in the moment that she waited a sudden sense of helplessness, of loneliness, overcame Susannah Chressham. Something was going to happen—something perhaps had happened—to Rose, and she was here alone to meet it, to decide.
But when the door again opened she stood braced to face the person she had expected—Lady Lyndwood's maid.
Honoria Pryse entered softly. She was simply attired in a shade of dull purple that set off the rich gold colour of her hair; a chip straw shaded her face, and she wore a dark cloak; her manner and bearing was absolutely composed and quiet. She dropped an indifferent curtsey, and waited until the black boy had left them, summing up the while with keen eyes Miss Chressham, who kept her place at the spinet, and spoke as soon as they were alone.
"You have come to see me?" she inquired, with a coldness in great contrast to her usual manner.
"Yes, madam."
"I cannot conceive on what subject."
Honoria smiled.
"Do you know me, Miss Chressham? I am the Countess's woman, and have been with her since she was a child."
"I remember you very well," answered Susannah. "Will you please tell me your errand?"
Honoria, still completely at her ease, came further into the room.