In the glass she could see reflected her mistress's downcast face—the sudden compression of her lips—the quiver about her mouth.
They had sunk very low Dolly felt, when even the bailiffs pitied them!
That was her first thought. Her next was, that in his way Turner was trying to do his best for her and her husband, but she could not trust herself to speak upon the subject, so she refrained from answering, and the brushing proceeded in silence.
Next morning Esther detected some white hairs amongst the brown. Of late this had been a matter of no rare occurrence.
"What does it signify?" Mrs. Mortomley exclaimed. "If these men stay here much longer my hair will be white as snow. Oh! I wish!—I wish—I wish!" she added passionately, "we had a house to ourselves once again. If it were the humblest cottage in England in which I could shut the door and feel we were alone, I should thank God for his mercy—"
"It cannot be for long, ma'am, Turner says—" Esther was beginning, when Mrs. Mortomley faced round upon her.
"If you mention that man's name again, I will give you notice."
Which certainly most servants so situated would have taken without further ceremony on the spot.
If Mrs. Mortomley had possessed the wisdom of the serpent, she would not have arrayed herself in the gorgeous attire she selected as especially suitable for a visit to Mr. Swanland's offices; but Dolly could not yet realize the fact that her husband was bankrupt, that a trustee ruled at Homewood, that the last man in possession was his lord-lieutenant, that the men were no longer Mortomley's men, but belonged to Mr. Swanland, as did the works and everything else, themselves scarcely excepted, about the place.