‘What’s her name?’

’The little stunpoll of a fellow couldn’t call to mind more than that ’tis Miss Somebody, of London.  However, that’s the woman who ha’ been here, depend upon’t—­a wicked one—­some poor street-wench escaped from Sodom, I warrant ye.’

‘Only to find herself in Gomorrah, seemingly.’

‘That may be.’

’No, no, Mrs. Leat, this is clear to me.  ’Tis no miss who came here to see our steward last night—­whenever she came or wherever she vanished.  Do you think he would ha’ let a miss get here how she could, go away how she would, without breakfast or help of any kind?’

Elizabeth shook her head—­Mrs. Crickett looked at her solemnly.

’I say I know she had no help of any kind; I know it was so, for the grate was quite cold when I touched it this morning with these fingers, and he was still in bed.  No, he wouldn’t take the trouble to write letters to a girl and then treat her so off-hand as that.  There’s a tie between ’em stronger than feelen.  She’s his wife.’

’He married!  The Lord so ’s, what shall we hear next?  Do he look married now?  His are not the abashed eyes and lips of a married man.’

‘Perhaps she’s a tame one—­but she’s his wife still.’

‘No, no:  he’s not a married man.’

‘Yes, yes, he is.  I’ve had three, and I ought to know.’

‘Well, well,’ said Mrs. Leat, giving way.  ’Whatever may be the truth on’t I trust Providence will settle it all for the best, as He always do.’

‘Ay, ay, Elizabeth,’ rejoined Mrs. Crickett with a satirical sigh, as she turned on her foot to go home, ’good people like you may say so, but I have always found Providence a different sort of feller.’

5.  NOVEMBER THE TWENTIETH

It was Miss Aldclyffe’s custom, a custom originated by her father, and nourished by her own exclusiveness, to unlock the post-bag herself every morning, instead of allowing the duty to devolve on the butler, as was the case in most of the neighbouring county families.  The bag was brought upstairs each morning to her dressing-room, where she took out the contents, mostly in the presence of her maid and Cytherea, who had the entree of the chamber at all hours, and attended there in the morning at a kind of reception on a small scale, which was held by Miss Aldclyffe of her namesake only.

Here she read her letters before the glass, whilst undergoing the operation of being brushed and dressed.

‘What woman can this be, I wonder?’ she said on the morning succeeding that of the last section. ’"London, N.!” It is the first time in my life I ever had a letter from that outlandish place, the North side of London.’

Cytherea had just come into her presence to learn if there was anything for herself; and on being thus addressed, walked up to Miss Aldclyffe’s corner of the room to look at the curiosity which had raised such an exclamation.  But the lady, having opened the envelope and read a few lines, put it quickly in her pocket, before Cytherea could reach her side.