"Then tell me what is amiss. You have only to, speak, if I can do anything to remove the trouble."
"It is nothing about myself, miss. It is the young squire."
"My brother!" I exclaimed. "What do you mean? He was well an hour ago. What has happened since then?"
Glancing towards the mirror, I caught a glimpse, of my face, from which every trace of colour had fled, and Ellen, frightened at the effect of her words, said—
"You must not be alarmed, miss. Mr. Savell is all right in himself, only it is the trouble about the mail-bag that is on all our minds. They do say in the kitchen that it is a hanging matter for anybody, if he was a duke, to break the seal of one. Anyway, we all know that the squire is to be brought before the magistrates, and tried for it to-morrow morning."
"Nonsense, Ellen! People are not hanged for trifles nowadays. As to trying my brother, you may be sure he knows nothing about it, or I should have heard also. There was a little dispute with Frith at the station, but Mr. Savell made all right, and there the matter ended. You are a good, tender-hearted girl; but there is nothing to grieve about, or I should be crying too," said I, smiling at my little maid.
"But, ma'am—Miss Berty, I know for a fact that Frith wrote to the Queen, or somebody very great, and a gentleman was sent from London to have the young master tried. And Parks saw a policeman from town show a paper to the squire, and then the two walked away together."
"You are wrong, Ellen. My brother would have told me, were there any ground for such a report."
"Indeed I am not mistaken," said Ellen. "I wish I were. The London gentleman was at church this morning; you must have seen him yourself, Miss Berty."
"There was a stranger, a fine, tall man, and he sat—"