On his way to leave the room, he stopped and shook hands with her: perhaps as an earnest of his friendliness. Theresa Blake, walking on the lawn beneath, had seen them conversing together at the window. She thought a taste of Jane Shore's pillory might not have been amiss for bringing Lady Andinnian to her senses.
Presently Lucy went down and had tea with Theresa, presiding herself at the cups and saucers by moonlight--for there was little light of day left. Sir Karl did not appear. He was in his room on the other side the house, holding some colloquy with Hewitt.
"I am going to have a pony-chaise, Theresa."
"Oh, indeed," returned Miss Blake, who seemed in rather a crusty humour. "I thought I heard you say that you did not require one."
"Perhaps I may be glad of it, for all that. At any rate, Sir Karl has bought it, pony, and chaise, and all; and they will be down this week."
Miss Blake's face was a scornful one just then, in her condemnation of wrong-doing. "He bribes her into blindness," was the thought that ran through her mind.
"Why are your eyes so red and heavy, Lucy? They were so at dinner."
"My eyes red!" artfully responded Lucy. "Are they? Well, I have had rather a tiring day, Theresa; and it has been so very hot, you know. You ought to have waited for the flower-show. It was one of the best I ever saw."
"Yes, I should have liked it."
"I took home poor Miss Patchett in my fly, from the station," went on Lucy, who seemed to be running from one topic to another, perhaps to divert attention from herself. "She had been to London to engage a servant, and looked ready to drop with the heat. Did you ever know it so hot before, Theresa?"