At last, however, on a day when she had felt the strain of waiting greater than she had courage for, and had counted every moment of the hour which must elapse before Jane could return from her mission of inquiry, as she rested on the sofa she heard the girl mount the stairs with a step whose hastened lightness wakened in her an excited hopefulness.

She sat up with brightened face and eager eyes.  How foolish she had been to fret.  Now—­now everything would be different.  Ah! how thankful she was to God for being so good to her!

“I think you must have a letter, Jane,” she said the moment the door opened.  “I felt it when I heard your footstep.”

Jane was touching in her glow of relief and affection.

“Yes, my lady, I have, indeed.  And they said at the bank that it had come by a steamer that was delayed by bad weather.”

Emily took the letter.  Her hand shook, but it was with pleasure.  She forgot Jane, and actually kissed the envelope before she opened it.  It looked like a beautiful, long letter.  It was quite thick.

But when she had opened it, she saw that the letter itself was not very long.  Several extra sheets of notes or instructions, it did not matter what, seemed to be enclosed.  Her hand shook so that she let them fall on the floor.  She looked so agitated that Jane was afraid to do more than retire discreetly and stand outside the door.

In a few minutes she congratulated herself on the wisdom of not having gone downstairs.  She heard a troubled exclamation of wonder, and then a call for herself.

“Jane, please, Jane!”

Lady Walderhurst was still sitting upon the sofa, but she looked pale and unsteady.  The letter was in her hand, which rested weakly in her lap.  It seemed as if she was so bewildered that she felt helpless.

She spoke in a tired voice.

“Jane,” she said, “I think you will have to get me a glass of wine.  I don’t think I am going to faint, but I do feel so—­so upset.”

Jane was at her side kneeling by her.

“Please, my lady, lie down,” she begged.  “Please do.”

But she did not lie down.  She sat trembling and looking at the girl in a pathetic, puzzled fashion.

“I don’t think,” she quavered, “that his lordship can have received my letter.  He can’t have received it.  He doesn’t say anything.  He doesn’t say one word—­”

She had been too healthy a woman to be subject to attacks of nerves.  She had never fainted before in her life, and as she spoke she did not at all understand why Jane seemed to move up and down, and darkness came on suddenly in the middle of the morning.

Jane managed by main strength to keep her from falling from the sofa, and thanked Providence for the power vouchsafed to her.  She reached the bell and rang it violently, and hearing it, Mrs. Cupp came upstairs with heavy swiftness.

Chapter Twenty one