When they found the maid, a grey elderly person, she was in a panic of terror, which made her perfectly useless. She was shaking from head to foot, and repeating disconnected Scriptural texts; she resisted all her mistress’s requests and entreaties to her to descend; she said she wished to meet her God where she was.
“If there be any thieves in the train,” said Hurstmanceaux to the lady, “they will have an easy time with your jewel-box.”
“I do not wear jewels,” said his fellow-traveler curtly.
He looked at her in some surprise. Her tone had asperity in it.
“Were you going up to town, may I ask?” he ventured to inquire.
“No,” she answered. “Only from one country house to another.”
He wished he knew what country houses they were, but he could not ask that.
She argued with her maid very patiently and with great kindness, but made no impression.
“Poor Danvers! She is out of her mind with fear. What shall I do?” she said, appealing to him as though they had been old acquaintances.
“Are you afraid of a long walk?”