"Mr. Carthew has gone, my lady," she said, dropping Sallie another deep curtsey, "and if your ladyship will be pleased to rest here for a little, it will not be long till the West Wing is all in order. I have only two maids to help me, with the castle empty so long, but I have sent down to the village for more, and maybe your ladyship will excuse—"
Sallie went up to her and took hold of the two trembling hands clasped tightly together against a jingling silver chatelaine.
"Janet," she said softly, and the agitated old woman looked gratefully up into her grave, wistful eyes, "I think you and I are going to be good friends, Janet," she said, "because—we have both been so lonely. And I want you not to worry yourself about anything. There's no hurry, and we'll be quite content here till you have everything arranged as you wish."
"I thank you kindly, my lady," answered Mrs. M'Kissock, and curtsied again, and was going off about her business, when Slyne signed to her to wait a moment and drew Sallie toward the door.
"I'll have to go into a number of matters with you," said he condescendingly to the old housekeeper. "To save Lady Josceline trouble, you'll get all your instructions from me."
Mrs. M'Kissock looked mutely to her new mistress for refutation or confirmation of his right to claim her services so; and Sallie could not but nod as she recalled with a strange, new pang the promise she had made in Genoa, and the lengthy document she had signed in the Hôtel de Paris.
"This is Mr. Jasper Slyne, Janet," said she, "and—"
"Her ladyship's future—" Slyne was about to explain the importance of his position there when Captain Dove interposed.
"Slyne!" he called across the hall. "If there's nothing to drink in the house, whoever goes down to the inn for our baggage had better bring up—"
But Slyne had already got Mrs. M'Kissock out into the corridor.