When I got back, my ball-dress had arrived.  Hephzibah had unpacked it, and it was lying on my bed—­such billows of pure white!—­and it fitted!  Well, it gave me pleasure, with all the uglies looming in the future, just to try it on.

The Marquis stayed with us.  He could not desert his old friend, he said, in her frail health, when she needed some one to cheer her.  I suspect the Marquis is as poor as we are, really, and that is why grandmamma could not leave me to him.  I am glad he is staying, and now she seems quite her old self again, and I cannot believe she is going to die.  However, whether or no, my destiny is fixed, and I shall have to marry Augustus Gurrage.

I did not let myself think of what was to happen at the ball.  When one has made up one’s mind to go through something unpleasant, there is no use suffering in advance by anticipation.  I said to myself, “I will put the whole affair out of my head; there are yet two good days.”

Chance, however, arranged otherwise.  This morning, the morning of the ball, while I was dusting the drawing-room, I went to the window, which was wide open, to shake out my duster, and there, loitering by the gate, was Mr. Gurrage—­at nine o’clock!  What could he be doing?  He jumped back as if he had seen me in my nightgown.  I suppose it was because of my apron, and the big cambric cap I always wear to keep the dust from getting into my hair.  A flash came to me—­why not get it over now?  He would probably not be so affectionate in broad daylight as at the ball.  So I called out, “Good-morning!”

He came forward up the path and leaned on the window-sill, still looking dreadfully uncomfortable, hardly daring to glance at me.  Then he said, nervously, “What are you playing with, up like that?”

“I am not playing,” I said, “I am dusting the china, and I wear these things to keep me clean.”

He blushed!

Then I realized all this embarrassment was because he thought I should feel uncomfortable at being caught doing house-work!  Not, as one might have imagined, because he had been caught peeping into our garden.  Oh, the odd ideas of the lower classes!

I took up a Sevres cup and began to pull the silk duster gently through the handle.

“Er—­can I help you?” he said.

At that I burst out laughing.  Those thick, common hands touching grandmamma’s best china!

“No, no!” I said.

He grew less self-conscious.

“By Jove! how pretty you are in that cap!”

“Am I?”

“Yes, and you are laughing, and not snubbing a fellow so dreadfully as you generally do.”

“No?”

“No—­well, I came round because I couldn’t sleep.  I haven’t been able to sleep for three nights.  I haven’t seen you since Saturday, you know.”

“No, I did not know.”

My heart began to beat in a sickening fashion.  He leaned close to me over the sill.  I put down the cup and took up the miniature.  I thought if I looked at Ambrosine Eustasie that would give me courage.  I went on dusting it, and I was glad to see my hands did not shake.