“I don’t know anything about my parents,” I said.  “I never remember seeing them.  I don’t know whether they are alive or dead.”

“Do you know why you were consigned by the Park Hill people to this particular house—­to Deepley Walls—­to me, in fact?”

Her voice was raised almost to a shriek as she said these last words, and she pointed to herself with one claw-like finger.

“No, ma’am, I don’t know why I was sent here.  I was told to come, and I came.”

“But you have no claim on me—­none whatever,” she continued, fiercely.  “Bear that in mind:  remember it always.  Whatever I may choose to do for you will be done of my own free will, and not through compulsion of any kind.  No claim whatever; remember that.  None whatever.”

She was silent for some time after this, and sat with her cold, steady eyes fixed intently on the fire.  For my part, I sat as still as a mouse, afraid to stir, longing for my dismissal, and dreading to be questioned further.

Lady Chillington roused herself at length with a deep sigh, and a few words muttered under her breath.

“Here is a bunch of grapes for you, child,” she said.  “When you have eaten them it will be time for you to retire.”

I advanced timidly and took the grapes, with a curtsey and a “Thank you, ma’am,” and then went back to my seat.

As I sat eating my grapes my eyes went up to an oval mirror over the fire-place, in which were reflected the figures of Lady Chillington and myself.  My momentary glance into its depths showed me how keenly, but furtively, her ladyship was watching me.  But what interest could a great lady have in watching poor insignificant me?  I ventured another glance into the mirror.  Yes, she looked as if she were devouring me with her eyes.  But hothouse grapes are nicer than mysteries, and how is it possible to give one’s serious attention to two things at a time?

When I had finished the grapes, I put my plate back on the table.

“Ring that bell,” said Lady Chillington.  I rang it accordingly, and presently Dance made her appearance.

“Miss Hope is ready to retire,” said her ladyship.

I arose, and going a step or two nearer to her, I made her my most elaborate curtsey, and said, “I wish your ladyship a very good-night.”

The ghost of a smile flickered across her face.  “I am pleased to find, child, that you are not entirely destitute of manners,” she said, and with a stately wave of the arm I was dismissed.

It was like an escape from slavery to hear the door of the Green Saloon close behind me, and to get into the great corridors and passages outside.  I could have capered for very glee; only Mrs. Dance was a staid sort of person, and might not have liked it.

“Her ladyship is pleased with you, I am sure,” she remarked, as we went along.

“That is more than I am with her,” I answered, pertly.  Mrs. Dance looked shocked.