Mrs. Castlemaine generally went out for a drive once a day. This afternoon she had taken Flora; whose face was adorned with sundry patches of sticking-plaster, the result of the fall off the ladder. In the red parlour sat Ethel Reene, painting flowers on cardboard for a hand-screen: and the Master of Greylands stood with his back to the fire, talking with her. They were speaking of Miss Castlemaine.
"Papa, I do not think we must hope it," Ethel was saying. "Rely upon it, Mary will not come out again."
Mr. Castlemaine's face darkened at the words. Though holding the same conviction himself, the step his niece had taken in entering the Nunnery was so unpalatable to him that he could not bear to hear the opinion confirmed or alluded to. He hated the Grey Sisters. He would have rid Greylands of their presence, had it been in his power.
"It is a sin, so to waste her life!" he said, his deep tones betraying his mortification. "Ethel, I think we cannot have made her happy here.
"It was nothing of that, papa. She told me she had been cherishing the idea before she came to Greylands."
"A meddling, tattling, tabby-cat set of women! Mary Ursula ought to----Well, what now, Miles?" For the man had entered the room and was waiting to speak.
"A lady has come here, sir, asking to see Mrs. Castlemaine. When I said the mistress was out, she said she would be glad to speak a few words to you. She is in the drawing-room, sir."
"What lady is it?" returned the Master of Greylands.
"Well, sir, I'm not altogether sure, but I fancy it is the one staying at the Dolphin; her with the sick child. Anyway, she's a very nice, pleasant-looking young lady, sir, whoever it is."
"I'm sure I don't know what she can want with me," remarked Mr. Castlemaine, as he walked off to the drawing-room, and laid his hand on the door. But thought is quick: and a fancy of what might have brought her here came across his mind ere he turned the handle.