But Emily did not say “James.”  There was something interesting in the innocent fineness of her feeling for Lord Walderhurst.  In the midst of her bewildered awe and pleasure at the material splendours looming up in her horizon, her soul was filled with a tenderness as exquisite as the religion of a child.  It was a combination of intense gratitude and the guileless passion of a hitherto wholly unawakened woman—­a woman who had not hoped for love or allowed her thoughts to dwell upon it, and who therefore had no clear understanding of its full meaning.  She could not have explained her feeling if she had tried, and she did not dream of trying.  If a person less inarticulate than herself had translated it to her she would have been amazed and abashed.  So would Lord Walderhurst have been amazed, so would Lady Maria; but her ladyship’s amazement would have expressed itself after its first opening of the eyes, with a faint elderly chuckle.

When Miss Fox-Seton had returned to town she had returned with Lady Maria to South Audley Street.  The Mortimer Street episode was closed, as was the Cupps’ house.  Mrs. Cupp and Jane had gone to Chichester, Jane leaving behind her a letter the really meritorious neatness of which was blotted by two or three distinct tears.  Jane respectfully expressed her affectionate rapture at the wondrous news which “Modern Society” had revealed to her before Miss Fox-Seton herself had time to do so.

“I am afraid, miss,” she ended her epistle, “that I am not experienced enough to serve a lady in a grand position, but hoping it is not a liberty to ask it, if at any time your own maid should be wanting a young woman to work under her, I should be grateful to be remembered.  Perhaps having learned your ways, and being a good needlewoman and fond of it, might be a little recommendation for me.”

“I should like to take Jane for my maid,” Emily had said to Lady Maria.  “Do you think I might make her do?”

“She would probably be worth half a dozen French minxes who would amuse themselves by getting up intrigues with your footmen,” was Lady Maria’s astute observation.  “I would pay an extra ten pounds a year myself for slavish affection, if it was to be obtained at agency offices.  Send her to a French hairdresser to take a course of lessons, and she will be worth anything.  To turn you out perfectly will be her life’s ambition.”

To Jane Cupp’s rapture the next post brought her the following letter:—­

DEAR JANE,—­It is just like you to write such a nice letter to me, and I can assure you I appreciated all your good wishes very much.  I feel that I have been most fortunate, and am, of course, very happy.  I have spoken to Lady Maria Bayne about you, and she thinks that you might make me a useful maid if I gave you the advantage of a course of lessons in hairdressing.  I myself know that you would be faithful and interested and that I could not have a more trustworthy young woman.  If your mother is willing to spare you, I will engage you.  The wages would be thirty-five pounds a year (and beer, of course) to begin with, and an increase later as you became more accustomed to your duties.  I am glad to hear that your mother is so well and comfortable.  Remember me to her kindly.