“All women must be a good deal alone when they leave home,” replied Emmeline, with as steady a voice as she could command,—”for the occupations and amusements of men are so different, particularly in the country.” “Then you _are_ chiefly by yourself,” said Mrs. Benson, hastily, as if catching at the confession, as something she was seeking for. “Oh dear no, I go out riding with some of the gentlemen nearly every day.” “Oh, you do, do you?” said Mrs. Benson; “and Lord Fitzhenry, does he go too?” “Yes, generally.” “I thought he had not,” said Mrs. Benson rather vacantly, and appearing to be engaged in some ruminations of her own. Emmeline took advantage of the momentary pause that followed, to start a new subject of conversation. She trusted, that when her mother saw how perfectly good humoured and indulgent Lord Fitzhenry was to her; in all things allowing her to be her own mistress, as well as mistress of his house, that the doubts and suspicions which she saw had been raised in her mind, either by her own observations, or her maid’s gossipping reports, would subside. For, as Emmeline suspected, this conversation had, in fact, been brought on by some stories which Mrs. Benson had already heard. Her maid and Emmeline’s were old acquaintance; and what maid or mistress can help talking over her neighbour’s affairs? The truth was, that Mrs. Brown, the old housekeeper, and Susan, Emmeline’s maid, (now promoted to Mrs. Jenkins,) had already quarrelled; for the latter soon began to throw out hints, which Mrs. Brown, thinking herself bound to stand up for her master, resented violently; so that by the time Mrs. Benson arrived, Mrs. Jenkins and Mrs. Brown were open enemies; and the former lost no time in securing on her side her old companion Warren—Mrs. Benson’s maid. As soon, therefore, as they had swallowed their tea, at which solemn and important ceremony Mrs. Brown had presided in all the pomp of housekeeper civility, the two friends retired; and while Mrs. Benson’s clothes were arranged in the drawers by the maid, Jenkins, with many a sigh over poor Miss Emmeline, and many an exaggeration, gave an account of the _dreadful_ way in which Lord and Lady Fitzhenry lived together, and of my Lord’s shameful neglect of her. “In short,” she ended with saying, “things are come to such a pitch, that Mrs. Brown and I are scarce on speaking terms, and I am, as you see, very distant even with Mr. Reynolds. People must see what they does see, except those people who wo’nt see, and I am quite resolved on one thing—which is, to be as uppish as possible both with Mrs. Brown and Mr. Reynolds till I see my lord behave better to my lady. I am but a servant, certainly; but I can’t for all that, help thinking it a very strange thing the way they go on.” “And what does Mrs. Brown say to this?” enquired her auditor. “Oh she says, forsooth, that it is all my vulgar notions, and because I have not been used to quality.”