“You?” replied Magdalen.  “Certainly not!  Have you forgotten what I said to you in this room before I went out?  I mean you to be married, and go to Australia with your husband and your child.  You have not waited as I told you, to hear me explain myself.  You have drawn your own conclusions, and you have drawn them wrong.  I asked a question just now, which you have not answered—­I asked if you had forgotten your parlor-maid’s duties?”

“Oh, no, ma’am!” Louisa had replied rather unwillingly thus far.  She answered readily and confidently now.

“Could you teach the duties to another servant?” asked Magdalen.

“Yes, ma’am—­easily, if she was quick and attentive.”

“Could you teach the duties to Me?”

Louisa started, and changed color.  “You, ma’am!” she exclaimed, half in incredulity, half in alarm.

“Yes,” said Magdalen.  “Could you qualify me to take the parlor-maid’s place at St. Crux?”

Plain as those words were, the bewilderment which they produced in Louisa’s mind seemed to render her incapable of comprehending her mistress’s proposal.  “You, ma’am!” she repeated, vacantly.

“I shall perhaps help you to understand this extraordinary project of mine,” said Magdalen, “if I tell you plainly what the object of it is.  Do you remember what I said to you about Mr. Vanstone’s will when you came here from Scotland to join me?”

“Yes, ma’am.  You told me you had been left out of the will altogether.  I’m sure my fellow-servant would never have been one of the witnesses if she had known—­”

“Never mind that now.  I don’t blame your fellow-servant—­I blame nobody but Mrs. Lecount.  Let me go on with what I was saying.  It is not at all certain that Mrs. Lecount can do me the mischief which Mrs. Lecount intended.  There is a chance that my lawyer, Mr. Loscombe, may be able to gain me what is fairly my due, in spite of the will.  The chance turns on my discovering a letter which Mr. Loscombe believes, and which I believe, to be kept privately in Admiral Bartram’s possession.  I have not the least hope of getting at that letter if I make the attempt in my own person.  Mrs. Lecount has poisoned the admiral’s mind against me, and Mr. Vanstone has given him a secret to keep from me.  If I wrote to him, he would not answer my letter.  If I went to his house, the door would be closed in my face.  I must find my way into St. Crux as a stranger—­I must be in a position to look about the house, unsuspected—­I must be there with plenty of time on my hands.  All the circumstances are in my favor, if I am received into the house as a servant; and as a servant I mean to go.”

“But you are a lady, ma’am,” objected Louisa, in the greatest perplexity.  “The servants at St. Crux would find you out.”