"My dear, why need Miss Carine have run away from me the moment I came in?"
Sara smiled. "Not from you, Lady Oswald; I think she wanted to run from us all. And perhaps she thought your visit was only to papa."
"How is Miss Davenal?"
"Quite well. Will you see her? She is in the drawing-room."
Lady Oswald hesitated.
"My dear, of course I should be glad to see her; I wish to pay her every respect; but--you know it is so great a trial to me--with my little weak voice. However, I will go up, as I am here. Is her deafness better?"
"Not at all," was Sara's answer. "I don't suppose it ever will be better. It gets worse, we think, as she grows old."
"Grows what?" cried Lady Oswald.
Sara had quick perceptions, and she felt that the word old, as applied to her aunt, had offended Lady Oswald's ear. How changed do our ideas of age become as our own years change! To Sara Davenal, with her twenty years, her aunt, verging on fifty, was old; to Lady Oswald, who would count seventy-one her next birthday Miss Davenal seemed but as a youngish woman!
Lady Oswald stepped slowly up the wide staircase, one foot at a time. Sara followed her, and threw open the door of the handsome drawing-room. A large square room, beautiful as a show place; and to keep it beautiful was the hobby of Miss Bettina Davenal.