’I had thought that Miss Aldclyffe was sole mistress of the property, and lived here alone.’

‘No, m—­’ The coachman was continually checking himself thus, being about to style her miss involuntarily, and then recollecting that he was only speaking to the new lady’s-maid.

‘She will soon be mistress, however, I am afraid,’ he continued, as if speaking by a spirit of prophecy denied to ordinary humanity.  ‘The poor old gentleman has decayed very fast lately.’  The man then drew a long breath.

‘Why did you breathe sadly like that?’ said Cytherea.

’Ah! . . .  When he’s dead peace will be all over with us old servants.  I expect to see the old house turned inside out.’

‘She will marry, do you mean?’

’Marry—­not she!  I wish she would.  No, in her soul she’s as solitary as Robinson Crusoe, though she has acquaintances in plenty, if not relations.  There’s the rector, Mr. Raunham—­he’s a relation by marriage—­yet she’s quite distant towards him.  And people say that if she keeps single there will be hardly a life between Mr. Raunham and the heirship of the estate.  Dang it, she don’t care.  She’s an extraordinary picture of womankind—­very extraordinary.’

‘In what way besides?’

’You’ll know soon enough, miss.  She has had seven lady’s-maids this last twelvemonth.  I assure you ’tis one body’s work to fetch ’em from the station and take ’em back again.  The Lord must be a neglectful party at heart, or he’d never permit such overbearen goings on!’

‘Does she dismiss them directly they come!’

’Not at all—­she never dismisses them—­they go theirselves.  Ye see ’tis like this.  She’s got a very quick temper; she flees in a passion with them for nothing at all; next mornen they come up and say they are going; she’s sorry for it and wishes they’d stay, but she’s as proud as a lucifer, and her pride won’t let her say, “Stay,” and away they go.  ’Tis like this in fact.  If you say to her about anybody, “Ah, poor thing!” she says, “Pooh! indeed!” If you say, “Pooh, indeed!” “Ah, poor thing!” she says directly.  She hangs the chief baker, as mid be, and restores the chief butler, as mid be, though the devil but Pharaoh herself can see the difference between ’em.’

Cytherea was silent.  She feared she might be again a burden to her brother.

‘However, you stand a very good chance,’ the man went on, ’for I think she likes you more than common.  I have never known her send the pony-carriage to meet one before; ’tis always the trap, but this time she said, in a very particular ladylike tone, “Roobert, gaow with the pony-kerriage.”. . .  There, ’tis true, pony and carriage too are getten rather shabby now,’ he added, looking round upon the vehicle as if to keep Cytherea’s pride within reasonable limits.

‘’Tis to be hoped you’ll please in dressen her to-night.’

‘Why to-night?’

’There’s a dinner-party of seventeen; ’tis her father’s birthday, and she’s very particular about her looks at such times.  Now see; this is the house.  Livelier up here, isn’t it, miss?’