“That she will do what she likes with you, you may depend, dear,” said Mrs. Dance.  “As to how she happens to have the right so to do, that is another thing, and one about which it is not my place to talk nor yours to question me.  That she possesses such a right you may make yourself certain.  All that you have to do is to obey and to ask no questions.”

I sat in distressed and bewildered silence for a little while.  Then I ventured to say:  “Please not to think me rude, but I should like to know who Sister Agnes is.”

Mrs. Dance stirred uneasily in her chair and bent her eyes on the fire, but did not immediately answer my question.

“Sister Agnes is Lady Chillington’s companion,” she said at last.  “She reads to her, and writes her letters, and talks to her, and all that, you know.  Sister Agnes is a Roman Catholic, and came here from the convent of Saint Ursula.  However, she is not a nun, but something like one of those Sisters of Mercy in the large towns, who go about among poor people and visit the hospitals and prisons.  She is allowed to live here always, and Lady Chillington would hardly know how to get through the day without her.”

“Is she not a relative of Lady Chillington?” I asked.

“No, not a relative,” answered Dance.  “You must try to love her a great deal, my dear Miss Janet; for if angels are ever allowed to visit this vile earth, Sister Agnes is one of them.  But there goes her ladyship’s bell.  She is ready to receive you.”

I had washed away the stains of travel, and had put on my best frock, and Dance was pleased to say that I looked very nice, “though, perhaps, a trifle more old-fashioned than a girl of your age ought to look.”  Then she laid down a few rules for my guidance when in the presence of Lady Chillington, and led the way to the Green Saloon, I following with a timorous heart.

Dance flung open the folding-doors of the big room.  “Miss Janet Hope to see your ladyship,” she called out; and next moment the doors closed behind me, and I was left standing there alone.

“Come nearer—­come nearer,” said her ladyship’s cracked voice, as with a long, lean hand she beckoned me to approach.

I advanced slowly up the room, stopped and curtsied.  Lady Chillington pointed out a high footstool about three yards from her chair.  I curtsied again, and sat down on it.  During the interview that followed my quick eyes had ample opportunity for taking a mental inventory of Lady Chillington and her surroundings.

She had exchanged the black dress in which I first saw her for one of green velvet, trimmed with ermine.  This dress was made with short sleeves and low body, so as to leave exposed her ladyship’s arms, long, lean and skinny, and her scraggy neck.  Her nose was hooked and her chin pointed.  Between the two shone a row of large white, even teeth, which long afterwards I knew to be artificial.  Equally artificial was the mass of short black, frizzly curls