“Go back to your dinner, my girl,” I said.  “I have patience with her, and I’ll fetch her in.”

Nancy (who has a fine appetite) looked pleased.  When she looks pleased, she looks nice.  When she looks nice, I chuck her under the chin.  It isn’t immorality—­it’s only habit.

Well, I took my stick, and set off for the sands.

No! it won’t do to set off yet.  I am sorry again to detain you; but you really must hear the story of the sands, and the story of Rosanna—­for this reason, that the matter of the Diamond touches them both nearly.  How hard I try to get on with my statement without stopping by the way, and how badly I succeed!  But, there!—­Persons and Things do turn up so vexatiously in this life, and will in a manner insist on being noticed.  Let us take it easy, and let us take it short; we shall be in the thick of the mystery soon, I promise you!

Rosanna (to put the Person before the Thing, which is but common politeness) was the only new servant in our house.  About four months before the time I am writing of, my lady had been in London, and had gone over a Reformatory, intended to save forlorn women from drifting back into bad ways, after they had got released from prison.  The matron, seeing my lady took an interest in the place, pointed out a girl to her, named Rosanna Spearman, and told her a most miserable story, which I haven’t the heart to repeat here; for I don’t like to be made wretched without any use, and no more do you.  The upshot of it was, that Rosanna Spearman had been a thief, and not being of the sort that get up Companies in the City, and rob from thousands, instead of only robbing from one, the law laid hold of her, and the prison and the reformatory followed the lead of the law.  The matron’s opinion of Rosanna was (in spite of what she had done) that the girl was one in a thousand, and that she only wanted a chance to prove herself worthy of any Christian woman’s interest in her.  My lady (being a Christian woman, if ever there was one yet) said to the matron, upon that, “Rosanna Spearman shall have her chance, in my service.”  In a week afterwards, Rosanna Spearman entered this establishment as our second housemaid.

Not a soul was told the girl’s story, excepting Miss Rachel and me.  My lady, doing me the honour to consult me about most things, consulted me about Rosanna.  Having fallen a good deal latterly into the late Sir John’s way of always agreeing with my lady, I agreed with her heartily about Rosanna Spearman.

A fairer chance no girl could have had than was given to this poor girl of ours.  None of the servants could cast her past life in her teeth, for none of the servants knew what it had been.  She had her wages and her privileges, like the rest of them; and every now and then a friendly word from my lady, in private, to encourage her.  In return, she showed herself, I am bound to say, well worthy of the kind treatment bestowed upon her.  Though far from strong, and troubled occasionally with those fainting-fits already mentioned, she went about her work modestly and uncomplainingly, doing it carefully, and doing it well.  But, somehow, she failed to make friends among the other women servants, excepting my daughter Penelope, who was always kind to Rosanna, though never intimate with her.