Lady Mary looked at her and smiled. How quickly Sarah always understood!
Sarah caught her hand and kissed it impulsively. Her back was turned to the old sisters in the chimney corner.
"Lady Mary," she said, "oh, never mind if I am indiscreet; you know I am always that." A little sob escaped her. "But I must ask you this one thing—you—you didn't really think that of me, did you?"
"Think what, dear child?" said Lady Mary, bewildered.
Sarah looked round at the two old ladies.
The head of Miss Crewys was inclined towards the crochet she held in her lap. She slumbered peacefully.
Lady Belstone was absently gazing into the heart of the great fire.
The heat did not appear to cause her inconvenience. She was nodding.
"They will hear nothing," said Lady Mary, softly. "Tell me, Sarah, what you mean. I would ask you," she said, with a little smile and flush, "to tell me something else, only, I—too—am afraid of being indiscreet."
"There is nothing I would not tell you," murmured Sarah, "though I believe I would rather tell you—out in the dark—than here," she laughed nervously.
"The drawing-room is not lighted, except by the moon," said Lady Mary, also a little excited by the thought of what Sarah might, perhaps, be going to say; "but there is no fire there, I am afraid. The aunts do not like sitting there in the evening. But if you would not be too cold, in that thin, white gown—?"