Tea concluded, and the guests dispersed. I was surprised at the non-appearance of my beloved, for I longed to speak with her alone—to learn what had occurred during my enforced absence.
Keene accompanied the Earl and some others across to the kennels after tea, but by no amount of manoeuvring could I obtain an interview with the Countess alone. She walked in the garden with old Lady Cotterstock, in order that I should have no chance of speaking with her.
The house-party assembled in the white drawing-room prior to dinner, yet Lolita did not put in an appearance. I therefore sent one of the under-servants for the faithful Weston, who came to me at the top of the grand staircase.
“Her ladyship has a very bad headache, sir. She’s been lying down. But she’s now in her boudoir writing, and has told me that I am not to disturb her this evening.”
“But isn’t she going to dine?” I inquired in surprise.
“She hasn’t dressed, sir. She said she, had no appetite.”
“She’s not well, I believe, Weston,” I said.
“No, sir,” replied the maid anxiously. “I’ve noticed this last week or two a very great change in her. She seems highly nervous, and when alone always thinking very deeply, and—and—”
“And what?” I asked, seeing the excellent servant’s hesitation.
“Well, sir, I don’t know whether I really ought to mention it, but one thing worries me very much. You know, sir, I’ve been her ladyship’s maid ever since she came back from school, and I’m much attached to her.”