"What! What were you saying, Mrs. Hipple?"

"Nothing; only what a pity it was that you would fling things about in this fashion."

"But something you said about--about--"

"No, nothing particular, only when your ladyship stopped at the door, and said 'good-morning' to the young gentleman, he observed that he had seldom seen you look so bright and pleasant; when I answered, that it was, perhaps, owing to the hat which had just come down, and was, to my taste, a beauty, he said, 'yes, it might be, for something made you look uncommonly lovely.'"

Lady Rose started up. She was no longer ashamed of her flushed face, but reached out her hand for the hat, which had, indeed, been rather severely crushed by its fall on the floor.

"It is a shame!" she said, eying the pretty fabric lovingly. "But I did not think it so very pretty. No, no, Mrs. Hipple, I will do it myself. Such a useless creature as I am. There, now, the flowers are as good as ever; it only wanted a touch or two of the fingers to bring them all right; and I rather like to do it."

She really did seem to like handling those sprays, among which her fingers quivered softly, as b.u.t.terflies search for honey-dew, until they subsided into a loving caress of the ribbons, which she smoothed, rolled over her hand, and fluttered out with infinite satisfaction.

"There, you fractious old Hipple, are you satisfied now?" she questioned, holding up the renovated hat on one hand; then, putting it on her head, she looked in the gla.s.s with new-born admiration of its gracefulness. "You see that it is none the worse for a little knocking about."

"It is just a beauty. No wonder Mr. Walton's eyes brightened up when he saw it."

Rose took the dainty fabric from her head, and put it carefully away with her own hands; at which Mrs. Hipple smiled slyly to her own shadow in the gla.s.s. Directly after this the kind old lady went down to the housekeeper's parlor, for she was not above a little family gossip with Mrs. Mason, and rather liked the cosy restfulness of the place. She found the good dame in an unusual state of excitement.

"A young woman had been there," she said, "after a place as lady's-maid. She had heard in the village that one would be wanted at 'The Rest,' and came at once, hoping to secure the situation."

"A lady's-maid!" cried Mrs. Hipple. "Why, the girl is distraught--as if we took servants who come offering themselves in that way at 'The Rest.'

"That was just what I told her," said Mrs. Mason, laughing as scornfully as her unconquerable good nature permitted. "I gave the young person a round scolding for thinking the thing possible. She answered that she thought no harm of seeking the place, as it was only in hopes of bettering herself; for she was disgusted with serving wine and beer at the 'Two Ravens.'"

"Serving wine and beer? Why, Mason, you astonish me," said Mrs.

Hipple, lifting her hands in horror of the idea.

"Then I broke out," said the housekeeper, "and rated her for thinking that any one fresh from the bar of a public house could fill the place of a lady's gentlewoman, who should be bred to the duties; at which the girl gave her head a toss fit for a queen, and said that some day she might have a higher place than that, and no thanks to anybody but herself."

"This must have been a forward girl, Mason. I wonder you had patience with her."

"Oh, as to that, it takes something, and always did, to make me demean myself below myself," said the housekeeper, folding her arms firmly over her bosom; "besides, she came down wonderfully in the end, and pleaded for a housemaid's place, as if that was the thing she had set her heart on from the first; and it was more than I could do to make her understand that no such person was wanted at 'The Rest.' Then she wanted me to promise that she might have the first opening, if any of the maids should not suit, or might leave."

When Mrs. Hipple returned to the room where she had left Lady Rose, this singular event was in her mind, and she spoke of it with the freedom always awarded to the beloved governess who had now become the companion and friend of her pupil. Lady Rose gave but little attention to the subject. Her mind was too thoroughly occupied with other thoughts for any great interest in matters so entirely foreign to them; but she seemed to listen. That was enough for the kind old lady, who continued:

"The girl went off at last, quite disappointed, because she wasn't taken on at once. She was going over to Jessup's, she said, to have a chat with his daughter. I wonder that Ruth should not choose better company. She is a modest thing enough, and might look to be a lady's maid in time, without stepping very much out of her sphere, being, as it were, bred in the shadow of 'The Rest,' and gifted with more learning than is needful to the place."

Here Lady Rose was aroused to more vivid interest. She looked up, and listened to every word her companion uttered.

"You are speaking of Jessup's pretty daughter," she said.

"Yes, of that slender young thing, Mason's G.o.ddaughter. Some people think her almost beautiful, with her great black eyes, and cheeks like ripe peaches. Then her hair is quite wonderful, and she walks like a fawn."

"You make her out very beautiful," said Lady Rose, with a quick increase of color. "Perhaps she is--having seen her always since we were both little girls, I have not observed the change as others might."

"Of course, how should your ladyship be expected to think of her now that you are the first lady in the county, and the girl only what she has always been?"

Lady Rose shook her head in kindly reproof of this speech.

"We must not say that, Mrs. Hipple," she said. "Ruth was my playmate as a little girl, a sweet-tempered, pretty friend, whom you kindly allowed to study with me as an equal."

"No, no. Never as an equal. That was impossible. She was bright and diligent."

"More so than I ever was," said Lady Rose, smiling on the old woman.

"Ah, but you learned so quickly, there was no necessity for application with you. One might as well compare her dark prettiness with--"

Lady Rose held up her hands, with a childlike show of resistance.

"There, there. If you draw pleasant comparisons, dear Hipple, it is because you love me, but that takes nothing from Ruth, who must be remarkably good-looking, or people would not admire her so much."

"Admired, is she? Well, I know little of that. Of course, the servants rave about her beauty in the housekeeper's room; I rebuked one of them only yesterday, for saying that the gentlemen who visit at 'The Rest'

go by the gardener's cottage so often only to get a look at the daughter, pretending all the time that it is the great show of roses that takes them that way."

"Were you not a little hard with the man, Hipple? Sir Noel's guests--those who joined in the hunt--certainly did seem greatly struck by her appearance as we rode by the cottage."

"No, no, the man deserved a reprimand for saying that his young master was made angry by their praises, when they saw her standing like a picture in the porch, for them to look at."

"You were right--excuse me, you were quite justified in rebuking him," said the lady, in breathless haste. "It was an impertinence."

"And, of all places, to say it in the housekeeper's room," added the old lady, "and Mason to permit it; but she thinks her G.o.ddaughter a paragon, and means to make her the heiress of all her savings. Indeed, she intends to give her something handsome when she is married to young Storms."

"Her marriage with young Storms!" faltered Lady Rose, going to a window in hopes of concealing her agitation; for the blood was burning in her face, and she dared not meet the eyes of that shrewd old lady.

"Is that anything but a childish romance?"

"It is a settled thing, my lady. We shall have a wedding at the cottage soon after Jessup gets well."

As Mrs. Hipple said this, she glided out of the room, clasping her hands softly together as she went down the corridor, and smiling as such women will, when conscious of happiness adroitly conferred.

Then Lady Rose looked shyly around, saw that she was quite alone, and, coming out of her covert, began to walk the room up and down, up and down, like some fawn let loose in a pasture of wild flowers. Then came a knock at the door. Lady Rose stole back to the window, determined that no one should see her radiant face before the intruder came in.

It was a servant bearing a message from the sick-chamber.

"The young master was wholly awake now. Would Lady Rose come and read to him a while?"

Would Lady Rose come and read to the man she loved? Would she accept the brightest corner in Paradise, if offered to her? Ah, how her face brightened! How soft and glad was the smile that dimpled about the mouth, so sorrowful only a little time before! With a quick glance she looked into the mirror, and made an effort to improve the amber cloud of hair that was most effective in beautiful disorder. Struck with the loveliness of her own face, she gave up the effort and went away.

"He has sent for me," was her happy thought. "He did not mean to reject my violets. It was only because he was not quite awake. He has sent for me! He has sent for me!"

Poor girl! She did not know that Sir Noel had been pointing out the unkindness of his action to the invalid, and that this message was one of almost forced atonement.

CHAPTER XLI.

THE FATHER'S SICK-ROOM.