The girl’s voice hummed through Gower.

He said:  ‘Lord Fleetwood may not be in London,’ and chafed at himself for such a quaver.

’It’s his house we want, sir, he has not been at his house in Kent.  We want his London house.’

‘My dear lady,’ said Mr. Woodseer; ’it might be as well to communicate the state of things to your family without delay.  My son will call at any address you name; or if it is a country address, I can write the items, with my assurances of your safety under my charge, in my house, which I beg you to make your home.  My housekeeper is known to Sarah and Madge for an excellent Christian woman.’

Carinthia replied:  ’You are kind to me, sir.  I am grateful.  I have an uncle; I would not disturb my uncle; he is inventing guns and he wishes peace.  It is my husband I have come to find.  He did not leave me in anger.’

She coloured.  With a dimple of tenderness at one cheek, looking from Sarah to Madge, she said:  ’I would not leave my friends; they are sisters to me.’  Sarah, at these words, caught up her apron.  Madge did no more than breathe deep and fast.

An unoccupied cold parlour in Mr. Woodseer’s house that would be heated for a guest, urged him to repeat his invitation, but he took the check from Gower, who suggested the doubt of Mary Jones being so good an attendant upon Lady Fleetwood as Madge.  ’And Madge has to help in the shop at times.’

Madge nodded, looked into the eyes of her mistress, which sanctioned her saying:  ’She will like it best here, she is my lady and I understand her best.  My lady gives no trouble:  she is hardy, she’s not like other ladies.  I and Sarah sleep together in the room next.  I can hear anything she wants.  She takes us as if she was used to it.’

Sarah had to go to serve a customer.  Madge made pretence of pricking her ears and followed into the shop.

‘Your first visit to London is in ugly weather, Lady Fleetwood,’ said Gower.

‘It is my first,’ she answered.

How the marriage came about, how the separation, could not be asked and was not related.

‘Our district is not all London, my dear lady,’ said Mr. Woodseer.  ’Good hearts are here, as elsewhere, and as many, if one looks behind the dirt.  I have found it since I laboured amongst them, now twenty years.  Unwashed human nature, though it is natural to us to wash, is the most human, we find.’

Gower questioned the naturalness of human nature’s desire to wash; and they wrangled good-humouredly, Carinthia’s eyes dwelling on them each in turn; until Mr. Woodseer, pursuing the theme started by him to interest her, spoke of consolations derived from his labours here, in exchange for the loss of his mountains.  Her face lightened.

‘You love the mountains?’

‘I am a son of the mountains.’

’Ah, I love them!  Father called me a daughter of the mountains.  I was born in the mountains.  I was leaving my mountains on the day, I think it yesterday, when I met this gentleman who is your son.’