That it was perfectly useless persisting, or even thinking of the affair further, I saw, and got out my writing-desk. Not a word had come to me from Mrs. Paler, not a hint at payment; and I wrote a civil request that she would kindly forward me the money due. This over, I sat, pen in hand, deliberating whether to write or not to Emily de Mellissie, when a loud ring came to the house-door. One of the footmen crossed the hall to answer it. "Is Lady Chandos at home?" I heard demanded, in a ladylike and firm voice. "Her ladyship is at home, ma'am," answered Joseph, "but she does not receive visitors." "I wish to see her." "She is ill, madam; not able to see any one." "Lady Chandos would admit me. My business is of importance. In short, I must see her." Joseph seemed to hesitate. "I'll call Mrs. Hill, and you can see her, ma'am," he said, after a little pause. "But I feel certain you cannot be admitted to my lady." She was ushered by Joseph into the oak parlour. A good-looking woman, as might be seen through her black Chantilly veil, dressed in a soft black silk gown and handsome shawl. She was of middle height, portly, and had a mass of fiery red hair, _crêpé_ on the temples, and taken to the back of her head. I rose to receive her. She bowed, but did not lift her veil; and it struck me that I had seen her somewhere before. "I presume that I have the honour of speaking to a Miss Chandos?" "I am not Miss Chandos. Will you take a seat?" "I grieve to hear that Lady Chandos is ill. Is she so ill that she cannot see me?" What I should have answered I scarcely know, and was relieved by the entrance of Hill. The visitor rose. "I have come here, some distance, to request an interview with Lady Chandos. I hear she is indisposed; but not, I trust, too much so to grant it to me." "I'm sorry you should have taken the trouble," bluntly returned Hill, who was in one of her ungracious moods. "My lady cannot see any one." "My business with her is of importance." "I can't help that. If all England came, Lady Chandos could not receive them." "To whom am I speaking?—if I may inquire," resumed the lady. "I am Mrs. Hill. The many-years' confidential attendant of Lady Chandos." "You share her entire confidence?" "Her entire confidence, and that of the family." "I have heard of you. It is not every family who possesses so faithful a friend." "Anything you may have to say to her ladyship, whatever its nature, you can, if you please, charge me with," resumed Hill, completely ignoring the compliment. "I do not urge it, or covet it," she hastily added, in an uncompromising tone. "I only mention it because it is impossible that you can see Lady Chandos." "Mrs. Chandos requires a companion, at the present moment, to replace one who has gone away ill." "What of that?" returned Hill.