"What's that?"
"I am not good enough for him. And oh, Lady Chandos, I was so afraid you would not think me so. I have been a governess, you know. I would have given him up, I have just told him so, now he is Sir Harry Chandos."
She smiled a little. "One objection arose to me when he first spoke—that you were the niece of Mrs. Edwin Barley. But I have grown to-day to think it may be well to overcome the prejudice. Do you know what Harry says?"
I only shook my head.
"He says, as Mrs. Edwin Barley brought (I must speak freely) a curse into our house, you may be destined to bring to it a blessing as the recompense. My dear child, I think it will be so."
She inclined her head, and gave me a fervent kiss. I could have knelt to receive it. I pressed her hand as if I could not let it go. I watched her along the gallery to the west wing amid my blinding tears. I could hardly help lifting my voice aloft in thanks to Heaven for its great love to me. Hill came up the stairs and broke the charm.
"Why, Miss Hereford, you have no light," she said and indeed my chamber was in darkness. "Allow me to light the branches, Miss."
By the unusual attention—a solitary candle would have been good enough for me before—by the sound of her voice as she offered it, I saw she had heard the news. I could not help putting my hand into hers as she turned round from the lighted branches.
"Hill, I hope you will forget that I used to cross you about that west wing. I did not know what it was, you see. But oh, if you had only told me! I would have been so true to you all."
Old Hill put her candle down, that she might have her other hand at liberty; and she laid it upon mine, making it a prisoner.