solemnly.

Millicent looked slightly disconcerted.

“Well, Mrs Jane, I was going to tell you—but after what Madam said—if the young man be respectable—I don’t know, really—this morning, as he was coming into the hall, I thought—I really thought he was going to offer to take me by the hand. It gave me such a turn!”

“I don’t see why, if he had washed his hands,” said Mrs Jane.

“Oh, Mrs Jane! what things you do say!”

Millicent had some excuse for her horror, since at that time shaking hands was a form of greeting only used between relatives or the most intimate friends. To give the hand to an inferior was the greatest possible favour.

“Well,” said Mrs Jane, locking the second trunk, “I expect Will Jackson is a decent fellow, and will attend me very well. At any rate, I mean to try him.”

“Well, Mrs Jane, I have warned you!”

“You have so, Millicent. And if Jackson murders me before I come home, I promise to agree with you. But I don’t believe he will.”

“Well!” repeated Millicent, “one thing is certain; the creature has surely never been in a gentleman’s service before. I expect he has followed the plough all his life. But I do hope, Mrs Jane, you may come back safe.”

“Thank you, Millicent; so do I,” answered Mrs Jane.

The friends who were to accompany Mrs Jane arrived at Bentley Hall on the Monday evening, and the party set out, eight in all, a little after five o’clock on the Tuesday morning. Mrs Lascelles and Mrs Petre rode behind their husbands; Mrs Jane behind her new man, Jackson. For Jenny an escort was provided in the shape of Mr Lascelles’ servant, a sober-looking man of about forty years, whom she thought most uninteresting. So they rode away from Bentley Hall, Robin Featherstone kissing his hand to Jenny, and making her a very elaborate bow in the background.

The first day’s journey brought them to the house of Mr Norton, a relative of the Lanes.

“Remember, Jackson,” said Mrs Jane as she alighted, “I shall want my palfrey by six to-morrow morning at the latest.”

Jackson touched his hat, and promised obedience. Mr Norton led Mrs Jane into the house, desiring his butler, whose name was Pope, to look to her man, and to put Jenny in the care of Mrs Norton’s maid. Jenny, being unused to ride much on horseback, was sadly tired by her day’s journey, and very glad when bed-time came. She made one nap of her night’s rest, and was not very readily roused when, before it was fully light, a tap came on Mrs Jane’s door.

Mrs Jane sat up in bed, awake at once.

“Who is there? Come within,” she said.

The answer was the entrance of Ellice, Mrs Norton’s maid.

“I crave pardon for disturbing you thus early, madam, but my mistress hath sent me to say your man is took very sick of an ague, and ’twill not be possible for you to continue your journey to-day.”

“How? Was ever anything so unfortunate!” cried Mrs Jane. “Is he really very bad?”

“My master thinks, madam, he is not the least fit for a journey.”

Mrs Jane lay down again, with an exclamation of dismay.

“I do hope the young man is not weakly,” she said. “’Tis most annoying. I reckoned, entirely, on continuing my journey to-day. Well, there is no help, I suppose, though this news is welcome but as water into a ship. We must make a virtue of necessity. Come, Jenny, we’ll take another nap. May as well have what comfort we can.”

And, turning round, Mrs Jane went off to sleep again.

For three days Mr Norton reported Jackson quite too poorly to ride; on the fourth he was a little better, and by the evening of the following Sunday it was thought Mrs Jane might venture to resume her journey the next day.

They were up early the next morning, and as Jenny followed her mistress into the hall, Mrs Norton being with them, Pope and Jackson came in from the opposite door. Jackson at once came forward to meet them, and for an instant Jenny was reminded of Millicent’s complaint, for he seemed just on the point of shaking hands with the ladies. Suddenly he drew back, took off his hat, and with a low bow informed Mrs Jane that he was ready to do her service.

The departure was fixed to take place after dinner; but before that meal was served, Mrs Norton was seized with sudden and serious illness. Mrs Jane showed great concern for her cousin, seeming to Jenny’s eyes much more distressed than she had been for the previous postponement of her journey. While everything was in confusion, a cavalcade of visitors unexpectedly arrived, and made the confusion still greater. Mrs Jane arranged to stay for some days longer, and act as hostess in Mrs Norton’s place.

As the party sat that night at supper, a traveller’s horn sounded at the gate, and Pope, having gone to receive the new arrival, returned with a letter, which he gave to Mrs Jane.

“Dear heart!” she exclaimed in surprise, “what have we now here? This is from my mother.”

“Pray you open it quickly, cousin,” replied Mr Norton. “I trust it is no ill news.”

Mrs Jane’s reply was to bury her face in her handkerchief. She seemed scarcely able to speak; but Mr Norton, to whom she passed the letter, informed the company that it contained very sad news from Bentley Hall. Mr Lane had become so much worse during the week of his daughter’s absence, that her mother desired her to return as soon as she had paid a hurried visit to her cousins in Somersetshire.

“I fear, cousin, we must not keep you with us longer,” said Mr Norton, kindly to Jane.

Mrs Jane was understood to sob that she must go on the next morning. Too much overcome to remain, she left the hall, and went up to the chamber of Mrs Norton, still with her handkerchief at her eyes. Jenny followed her, going into her bedroom, which was near to that of the hostess. She heard voices through the wall, accompanied by sounds which rather puzzled her. Was Mrs Jane weeping? It sounded much more like laughing. But how could anyone expect so devoted a daughter to have the heart to laugh on this sad occasion?

When Mrs Jane came out of her cousin’s room, she was apparently calm and comforted. The handkerchief had disappeared; but considering the bitter sobs she had heard, Jenny wondered that her eyes were not redder.

The journey was resumed, and they arrived safely at Trent Hall, the residence of Colonel Wyndham, who was strolling about his grounds, and met them as they came up to the house. Mrs Jane having alighted and shaken hands with her cousin the Colonel, it astonished Jenny to see Will Jackson go familiarly up as if to offer the same greeting. Remembering himself in an instant, he slunk back as he had done before, and took off his hat with a low bow. Colonel Wyndham, Jenny thought, looked rather offended at Jackson’s bad manners, dismissing him by a nod, and calling one of his stable-men to see to him, while he took Mrs Jane into the house. Jenny felt once again that Millicent must have guessed rightly, and that Jackson had never been in service in a gentleman’s family before.