The next time I saw him was in the great hall.  Mary Mason and I were going to drive out with my lady in her coach, and when we went down stairs with our best hats and cloaks on, we found Mr. Gray awaiting my lady’s coming.  I believe he had paid his respects to her before, but we had never seen him; and he had declined her invitation to spend Sunday evening at the Court (as Mr. Mountford used to do pretty regularly—­and play a game at picquet too—­), which, Mrs. Medlicott told us, had caused my lady to be not over well pleased with him.

He blushed redder than ever at the sight of us, as we entered the hall and dropped him our curtsies.  He coughed two or three times, as if he would have liked to speak to us, if he could but have found something to say; and every time he coughed he became hotter-looking than ever.  I am ashamed to say, we were nearly laughing at him; half because we, too, were so shy that we understood what his awkwardness meant.

My lady came in, with her quick active step—­she always walked quickly when she did not bethink herself of her cane—­as if she was sorry to have us kept waiting—­and, as she entered, she gave us all round one of those graceful sweeping curtsies, of which I think the art must have died out with her,—­it implied so much courtesy;—­this time it said, as well as words could do, “I am sorry to have kept you all waiting,—­forgive me.”

She went up to the mantelpiece, near which Mr. Gray had been standing until her entrance, and curtseying afresh to him, and pretty deeply this time, because of his cloth, and her being hostess, and he, a new guest.  She asked him if he would not prefer speaking to her in her own private parlour, and looked as though she would have conducted him there.  But he burst out with his errand, of which he was full even to choking, and which sent the glistening tears into his large blue eyes, which stood farther and farther out with his excitement.

“My lady, I want to speak to you, and to persuade you to exert your kind interest with Mr. Lathom—­Justice Lathom, of Hathaway Manor—­”

“Harry Lathom?” inquired my lady,—­as Mr. Gray stopped to take the breath he had lost in his hurry,—­“I did not know he was in the commission.”

“He is only just appointed; he took the oaths not a month ago,—­more’s the pity!”

“I do not understand why you should regret it.  The Lathoms have held Hathaway since Edward the First, and Mr. Lathom bears a good character, although his temper is hasty—­”

“My lady! he has committed Job Gregson for stealing—­a fault of which he is as innocent as I—­and all the evidence goes to prove it, now that the case is brought before the Bench; only the Squires hang so together that they can’t be brought to see justice, and are all for sending Job to gaol, out of compliment to Mr. Lathom, saying it his first committal, and it won’t be civil to tell him there is no evidence against his man.  For God’s sake, my lady, speak to the gentlemen; they will attend to you, while they only tell me to mind my own business.”