'What can she have wanted there?'
'What but the dust of old Wellon? And what good can she do with that? None—she needs it only for some devilry. Do not go near her, Honor; I have come here on purpose to warn you that the woman is dangerous.'
'I must go on,' said Honor. 'It is kind of you, Larry, but I have business which I must do at Langford. I have never harmed Mrs. Veale, and she will not want to hurt me, But now, Larry, let me say that I am sorry if I offended you this morning. I spoke rather rough, because I was afraid of a quarrel and a fight between you and Charles. Do not take it amiss. Now do not stay me, I must go forward.'
'I will let you go on one promise—that you will not cross Mrs. Veale.' He caught her hand.
'How can I give offence to her? She is nothing to me, nor I to her. You must really make way, Larry.'
He shook his head. 'I don't like it,' he said; but he could not further stay her.
Langford lies under the brow of Broadbury, looking over the tossing sea-like expanse of hill and dale. It lies at a very considerable elevation, nearly a thousand feet above the sea, and to protect it from the weather is covered with slate, as though mail-clad. Few trees stand about it affording shelter. Honor walked through the yard to the door and thrice knocked. Very tardy was the reply. Mrs. Veale opened the door, and stood holding it with one hand, barring the entrance with her body and the other hand. She was in a light cotton dress, from which the colours had been washed. Her face, her eyes, her hair had the same bleached appearance. Her eyelashes were white, overhanging faded eyes, to which they gave a blinking uncertain look.
'What do you want?' asked the housekeeper, looking at her with surprise and with flickering eyes.
'I have come to see Mr. Langford,' answered Honor; 'is your master at home?'
'My master, oh yes!' with a sneer, 'my master is at home—my mistress not yet. Oh no! not yet.'