“Certainly. Has your mistress a third sister?”
“Well, Mrs. Lygon is a very sweet lady, too; though she is prouder than Mrs. Hawkesley.”
“What the deuce do you know about pride?” answered Adair, with an expression of bitter contempt, which stung the girl into sudden anger.
“As much as a gentleman,” she replied, hastily, “who sets servants to spy upon their mistresses, gets copies of letters and cards, and does all sorts of mean tricks.”
“I like that honest outbreak,” said Adair, not in the least discomposed. “I like earnestness, and never quarrel with the way in which it shows itself. But if I do some little things which offend the delicate feelings of a lady’s-maid, I do some generous things to make up for them. I think that your handsome admirer, Monsieur Silvain, would not have gone quite so well out of that little affair about Madame’s wine and some other trifles, if I had not befriended him with the police.”
“Poor Silvain would have been a better man, if—if you had not made his acquaintance,” said Matilda, with tears rising to her eyes, “and why you should demean yourself to make friends with a perfumer, I don’t know, but I am sure for no good.”
“I am sorry to hear such aristocratic sentiments from a daughter of the people,” said Ernest Adair, gravely. “Don’t you know that we are all equal, and though you think I ought to despise poor little Silvain”
“Despise him, indeed!” said she, in another rage. “You have much more right to be despised by him, I can tell you that.”
“Quite right, my dear. I have no settled residence and position in the world, whereas he has a charming little shop in which he sells the very worst perfumery in the whole world, at prices that will soon enable him to claim Mademoiselle Henderson’s fair hand. But as she will not be able to give it without my approbation, she should not try to make me an enemy of the lover of her heart.”
“I must go,” said the girl. “What will Madame say?”
“I will secure you from Madame’s anger. There. When I say a thing of that kind I mean it. Now, attend to me, and forget Monsieur Silvain for a moment. Mrs. Lygon is coming to visit your mistress, and as I want to arouse all your instincts as a lady’s-maid, let me tell you that the visit is a secret one, and made without the knowledge of either of the ladies’ husbands. Now, if Madame shows such want of confidence in you as to try to keep that from you, I suppose that you know what is due to yourself.”
“What do I want to know about her secrets. If it was not for you I would never have touched one of her letters in my life.”
“Thank me for having educated you into intelligence, then. And whether you care about her secrets or not, I care a good deal about them, and therefore I shall require you to be particularly on the alert until I tell you to relax your vigilance.”
“You make me do what you like, but I hate myself, and
“And me. We all hate people who compel us to do sensible things, and I don’t expect you to be wiser than the rest of the word. But I promise you that whatever you do, under my directions, shall be to your advantage; and it is exceedingly agreeable, my dear Mademoiselle Henderson, to put it in that way, instead of hinting at any little unpleasantness that might arise—let us say to Monsieur the perfumer, if he dropped out of my good graces through any indiscretion of yours. You understand?”
“Tell me what to do,” said Matilda, doggedly.
“In the first place, Mrs. Lygon will not come direct to your house. She desires, as I say, to avoid meeting your large master.”
“She can’t meet him, for there has been some railway accident, and he is gone to set it right.”
“Ah! That is news to me,” said Adair, turning to her with more interest. “When did he go?”
“This morning.”
“The brave man! The good man!”
“Yes, he is that,” said Matilda, “though you do not mean it when you say it.”
“But I do. He delights me much. I am pleased with the large Scotchman. Excellent Robert! Worthy Urquhart!”
He was occupied in new and sudden thought, and the mocking words dropped from his lips unmeaningly.
“That is well,” he said, after a pause. “It would be better if the other were not on his way; but Providence seldom sends us everything that we desire, and perhaps it would not be good for us, my dear, if it did. Not in Versailles—excellent! Then listen again, intending bride of Monsieur Silvain. Mrs. Lygon will be at your house sooner than expected. That is to say, she will meet her sister, to whom she has of course written, making an appointment, and Mrs. Urquhart will state to her that the Caledonian giant being away, his castle may be approached without fear. Now, I must know where the ladies meet; and that you must instantly find out for me. After they have come home, the business must be in your hands. So, off instantly with you, and manage to find the note which Mrs. Urquhart has received. If you can get it, do; but at all events learn the place of meeting, and bring the news to me.”
“I think she put the note in her pocket. How am I to get at it?”
“Matilda, you make me blush for your incapacity. Am I to tell a lady’s-maid what pretence to invent in order to get a dress into her hands—can I imagine that it is torn, or is not fit to go out in, or is wanted for a pattern, or any of the thousand-and-one lies that are already in your mind, and any one of which will do for an excuse to put your hand upon the letter. Do I not know the adroitness of your kind? Away, I tell you, and remember that I am waiting for you here, and shall count the minutes”
“If I cannot get it.”
“Then I shall not reproach you, my dear, but I think that the worthy Monsieur Silvain may be less forbearing, after the domiciliary visit with