"Welcome to your new home, my dearest wife! I'm glad to see you all," he added, in heartfelt tones. "Jennings, you're looking well!" He pressed both the old man's hands in his.
"Welcome home, yer lordship, yer lordship!"
"Indiana, this is Jennings. You've heard me speak of him. He's been in the family since I was a child."
Indiana's blue eyes smiled into those of the old Scotchman. "How do you do, Jennings?" she said, with a friendly handshake. Jennings carried her hand, with a shaking motion, to his lips.
"His lordship's young wife," he murmured, looking with ecstatic delight into her face.
"My mother, Jennings?"
"Her leddyship's well, yer lordship. Her leddyship's in the library."
He hurried before them, but Thurston rushed past him, carrying Indiana on his arm, his hand clasped on hers. They laughed back at the old man, and he echoed the laugh childishly, with tears in his eyes. "You can't announce us, Jennings!" cried Thurston.
Lady Canning was still standing, with stately repose, by the fire. There was no trace, on her calm face, of the agitation she had been suffering, beyond an expression of pleasurable anticipation—the only visible sign of feeling in which she would allow herself to indulge.
"Mother!"