"Miss, it is I who have got to ask pardon of you for my crossness. We were all living in so much dread, that a stranger in the house brought nothing but extra fear and trouble. But I liked you through it all; I liked your face that morning years ago on the Nulle steamer at London Bridge. Miss, it is the same nice face still. And, Miss Hereford, I am not sorry to hear that you are to be for good at Chandos."
"We shall be friends always, Hill."
"I hope so, Miss. I shan't be here; I go with my lady."
She went away with her candle. It gave me a shy feeling to think the news should be known to the household. But I soon found it was not known. Hill, the confidential attendant, it may be said friend, was made acquainted with all things, but she did not carry them forth to the servants under her.
Emily and Dr. Laken dined with us in the oak-parlour. Lady and Mrs. Chandos dined in the east wing. Except that a subdued air pervaded all, even to the tone of our voices and the servants' tread, the meal and evening were just as usual.
"Why did you never tell me you were a Keppe-Carew?" Emily suddenly asked me when we were alone together.
"But I am not a Keppe-Carew."
"Nonsense. Your mother was: it's all the same."
"As a governess, I did not care to say that my family was good."
"You were a little idiot, then, Anne Hereford. The Keppe-Carews are as good as we are—better, some might say; and so I suppose I must reconcile myself to the idea of your becoming my brother's wife."