It was Frances Chenevix. By some neglect, no maid was at the moment in attendance upstairs; and Frances, in her impatience, ran down to the housekeeper's parlour. As Adela's sister, and frequently there with Mary Lynn, she was quite at home in the house. She had gathered the damaged dress up on her arm, but her white silk petticoat fell in rich folds around her.
"Just look what an object that stupid——" And there stopped the young lady. For, instead of the housekeeper or maid, whom she expected to meet, no one was in the room but a gentleman; a tall, handsome man. She looked thunderstruck: and then slowly advanced and stared at him, as if unable to believe her own eyes.
"Gerard! Well, I should just as soon have expected to meet the dead here."
"How are you, Lady Frances?" he said, holding out his hand with hesitation.
"Lady Frances! I am much obliged to you for your formality. Lady Frances returns her thanks to Mr. Hope for his polite inquiries," continued she, honouring him with a swimming curtsy.
He caught her hand. "Forgive me, Fanny, but our positions have altered. At least, mine has: and how did I know that you were not altered with it?"
"You are an ungrateful—raven," cried she, "to croak like that. After getting me to write to you no end of letters, with all the news about every one, and beginning 'My dear Gerard,' and ending 'Your affectionate Fanny,' and being as good to you as a sister, you meet me with 'My Lady Frances!' Now, don't squeeze my hand to atoms. What on earth have you come to England for?"
"I could not stop over there," he returned, with emotion; "I was fretting away my heart-strings. So I accepted an offer that was made to me, and came back. Guess in what way, Frances; and what to do."
"How should I know? To call me 'Lady Frances,' perhaps."
"As a City clerk; earning my bread. That's what I am now. Very consistent, is it not, for one in my position to address familiarly Lady Frances Chenevix?"