“What says your Lady?” answered the page from within.
“Marry, open the door, and you shall hear,” answered the waiting-maid. “I trow it becomes my Lady's message to be listened to face to face; and I will not for your idle pleasure, whistle it through a key-hole.”
“Your mistress's name,” said the page, opening the door, “is too fair a cover for your impertinence—What says my Lady?”
“That you will be pleased to come to her directly, in the withdrawing-room,” answered Lilias. “I presume she has some directions for you concerning the forms to be observed in leaving chapel in future.”
“Say to my Lady, that I will directly wait on her,” answered the page; and returning into his apartment, he once more locked the door in the face of the waiting-maid.
“Rare courtesy!” muttered Lilias; and, returning to her mistress, acquainted her that Roland Graeme would wait on her when it suited his convenience.
“What, is that his addition, or your own phrase, Lilias?” said the Lady, coolly.
“Nay, madam,” replied the attendant, not directly answering the question, “he looked as if he could have said much more impertinent things than that, if I had been willing to hear them.—But here he comes to answer for himself.”
Roland Graeme entered the apartment with a loftier mien, and somewhat a higher colour than his wont; there was embarrassment in his manner, but it was neither that of fear nor of penitence.
“Young man,” said the Lady, “what trow you I am to think of your conduct this day?”