“You may be sure I would allow no disrespect to any young girl, above all, a stranger. And as far as our own servants are concerned I think it has been quite pleasant, though even I cannot stop talk among themselves. And the visitors’ servants I know still less about; I had to give Miss—Miss Ray is the name she calls herself—a warning the other day, to be a little more chatty and friendly. There’s a maid of Mrs Worthing’s that I felt uneasy about. She’s a sharp sort of person and inclined to be spiteful to any one younger and better-looking than herself.”
“She takes after her mistress, then. I can’t stand Mrs Worthing,” said Michael, boyishly. “The daughter is a harmless little thing—wax in her mother’s hands, but Mrs Worthing is a bundle of worldliness, just the sort of woman to beware of.”
He had more in his mind than he thought it well to discuss, even with his trusted old friend. It would have required no great acumen to discover the great attraction of Wyverston at the present time to the lady in question, for Bernard Gresham was universally recognised as one of the most desirable partis of the day. And that, not only by reason of his wealth and social position, but on the higher grounds also of his personal character and refinement of taste. And what Michael had overheard of Evelyn’s conversation with his cousin, even one or two remarks accidentally dropped by his cousin himself, had shown that the Miss Raynsworth of Dorriford had made an impression on him, little as he had seen of her.
“Yes,” added Michael aloud, after a little pause, “you are quite right, nurse. Don’t let the Worthings—mistress or maid—get the slightest scent of any mystery. And impress upon the young lady at all costs to keep out of Bernard’s way.”
So saying, he got up and turned to leave the room. “You may depend upon me,” he said, with a slight nod, and without waiting to hear the housekeeper’s fervent thanks, he called to Solomon, who by this time had fallen comfortably asleep by the fire, and the two went off together.
When Evelyn came in from her drive, somewhat to her surprise, no “Phillis” was awaiting her as usual in her room. She had shut and locked the door carefully, for by this time she had in some ways acquired caution, and then hurrying through the dressing-room, she made her way to the small apartment appropriated to her sister, though scarcely expecting to find her there.
“I believe she has gone out for a stroll,” she said to herself. “Phil is always so fond of mooning about in the dusk, and I do so want to see her.”
But her conjecture proved unfounded, for there on the little bed, with a shawl thrown over her, lay Philippa fast asleep. Evelyn stole up beside her, and stooped down to see her face.
“Poor dear,” she thought, “she is looking very pale, and there are dark rings round her eyes; I wonder if there is anything the matter! Anyway I won’t wake her. I must wait till later to tell her of this new complication.”
So if young Mrs Headfort looked a degree less trim than usual when she made her appearance among the circle gathered in the hall for afternoon tea, it was not to be marvelled at. On her way thither, at the corner of the first passage, she almost ran into the arms of the housekeeper. Evelyn started; she was in rather a nervous mood, and it was not often one came across Mrs Shepton in the upper storeys. To her relief the housekeeper was the first to speak.