“Quite so, my lord,” said Mason, who thought: “Bless us and save us! If he had, everything would have gone in the smelting-pot.”
“Her establishment will be much diminished; I am afraid she will be obliged to relinquish your services and those of others.”
“Oh, my lord,” said Mason with a respectful little gesture which implied that persons like himself were always in demand at all seasons, and that the loss would be her Grace’s, not his.
“Well, you will see that everything is packed up that belongs to the family, and you will see that the house is put in due order to be given up to its owners on the last day of the month; for your wages and those of the others you will go to the late duke’s lawyers.”
Mr. Mason’s face clouded haughtily at the word wages, but he was a good-hearted man—he did not openly resent.
“I beg pardon, my lord,” he said with hesitation, “but does her Grace know she leaves the house?”
“Yes,” said Ronald. “That is, she knows she must leave it.”
“And do you think she will, my lord?”
“She must!”
Mason shook his head.