‘Yes.  Well?—­She did not suffer from being out too late?’

’I’m sure I don’t know, sir, what it was.  She walked into the hall just as strong and straight as ever, and then she dropped right down on the first stair, and put her hands and face against the balustrade, and I couldn’t get one word from her—­ nor one look,—­any more than if she’d been part of the staircase.

‘For how long?’ asked the gentleman after a short pause, and in a lowered tone.

‘It seemed a week to me,’ said Mrs. Bywank,—­’but I only know nothing stirred her till she heard the servants begin to move about the house.  And then she got up, in a sort of slow way, so that I thought she would fall.  And I put my arm around her, and she laid her head on my shoulder, and so we went upstairs.  But she only said she was “very, very tired,” and didn’t want any breakfast.  I couldn’t get another word but that.’

’And since then?’—­said her hearer, after another pause in which he seemed to have forgotten himself.

‘Since then,’ said Mrs. Bywank, ’there have been balls and picnics and dinners enough to take one’s breath away.  But it don’t seem to me she can enjoy them much—­she comes home so often with a sort of troubled look that I can’t understand.  And when I ask if she’s not well, she says, “Yes, very well.”  So what is one to to?’

’I don’t think you can do anything, Mrs. Bywank.  Perhaps I can.  Is that all you have to tell me?’

’Not quite, sir,’—­but the old housekeeper hesitated.  ’I am not sure about saying all I wanted to say.’

‘Why?’ said Rollo, smiling.

’It is a nice matter for one woman to talk about another woman,’ said Mrs. Bywank; and again she paused, evidently considering where care ended and treason began.  ’I am a little uneasy, sir,—­more than a little,—­about some of these young men that come here so often.’

‘On what account?’ said Rollo shortly and gravely, with a tone that meant to get to the bottom of that at least.

‘Why,’ said Mrs. Bywank, glancing at him, ’chiefly because I think Miss Wych does not know in the least how often they come.  Which, if she thought twice about any one of them, she would.  And if I just hint it to her, she looks at me, and says—­“Often?—­when was he here before?  I don’t remember.”  All the same, they don’t understand that.’

‘Well?’ said Rollo.  ’They are quite equal to taking care of themselves.  Tell me of any danger to her.’

’It lies just there, sir.  That she might be drawn on—­in her innocence—­to grant favours covering she knows not what.  And sometimes that works trouble.  Not caring two snaps for the men, it might never occur to her that they were favours—­till the cobwebs were all round her feet.  You know that, sir?’

Her hearer’s brows contracted a little, and the grey eyes snapped; but he was silent.

‘Now here’s this fancy ball at Moscheloo,’ said Mrs. Bywank,—­ ‘with all sorts of charades that nobody ought to be in.’