“What do you mean by alone? I suppose Lord and Lady Fitzhenry are as much together as other married people are? I don’t expect he sits all day at home with her, any more than Mr. Benson does with me.” “I believe you will find it is very different from you and my master,” said Warren, with a significant sigh. “What _can_ you mean by all this?” said Mrs. Benson, alarmed. “Why, I mean, ma’am, that Miss Emmeline, (Lady Fitzhenry, that is to say,) is always alone.” “Always alone?” repeated Mrs. Benson; “really Warren I don’t know what you would be at—and I don’t believe _you_ know yourself.” “Yes, ma’am,” said Warren, bridling up; “and I only say what I know to be true. Lord Fitzhenry sleeps in his own room alone all night, and Lady Fitzhenry sits in her room alone all day; and, if that is living like a married pair, I don’t know what a married pair is.” “Who tells you all this nonsense?” said Mrs. Benson, angrily, and yet wishing to hear more. “Why, Mrs. Jenkins, to be sure, ma’am. She says, that my lord quarrelled with my lady on their very wedding-day—for that she herself heard high words between them and doors shut in a passion-like—and ever since that terrible scene—which Jenkins can swear to—they have continued to live in this strange way. For my part, I don’t think if I was Mrs. Jenkins I would remain in so unpleasant a family, although to be sure all is in very high style, and the housekeeper’s room as good as many ladies’ drawing-rooms, with a nice Turkey carpet; but still all can’t be right. However, I should be sorry to tell tales and make mischief; but you know, ma’am, you forced me to speak, otherwise I am sure I should have held my tongue about it all to my dying day, for I am sure I would not for all the world make you uneasy, ma’am.” “Well, I desire you will hold your tongue to every body else,” said Mrs. Benson gravely, “and bid Susan come to me to-morrow morning.” Susan told her story, heightening the picture as much as she could; and, after all this, it will not be wondered at that Mrs. Benson endeavoured to discover the truth from Emmeline. Her answers, her praises of Fitzhenry, staggered her; and, as Emmeline had anticipated, the appearance of perfect good humour on the part of her husband, often even of gallant attention towards her, made Mrs. Benson think the whole was no more than the common gossip of servants; and, at any rate, she had too much good sense to endeavour to pry into matrimonial secrets and arrangements, which her daughter did not seem to wish to have noticed; so, resolving to be very watchful, she said no more.