"Well, all is at a point, Orige," he said. "Master Tremayne hath right kindly given consent to receive both the maids into his house, for so long a time as we may desire it; but Mistress Tremayne would have Barbara come withal, if it may stand with thy conveniency. She hath but one serving-maid, as thou wist; and it should be more comfortable to the childre to have her, beside the saving of some pain [trouble, labour] unto Mistress Tremayne." "They can have her well enough, trow," answered Lady Enville. "I seldom make use of her. Jennet doth all my matters." "But how for Meg and Lucrece?" Barbara's position in the household was what we should term the young ladies' maid; but maids in those days were on very familiar and confidential terms with their ladies. "Oh, they will serve them some other way," said Lady Enville carelessly. The convenience of other people was of very slight account in her Ladyship's eyes, so long as there was no interference with her own. "Cannot Kate or Doll serve?" asked Sir Thomas--referring to the two chambermaids. "Of course they can, if they must," returned their nominal mistress. "Good lack, Sir Thomas!--ask Rachel; I wis nought about the house gear." Sir Thomas walked off, and said no more. With great difficulty and much hurrying, the two girls contrived to leave the house just before supper. Sir Thomas was determined that there should be no further interview between Blanche and Don Juan. Nor would he have one himself, until he had time to consider his course more fully. He supped in his own chamber. Lady Enville presented herself in the hall, and was particularly gracious; Rachel uncommonly stiff; Margaret still and meditative; Lucrece outwardly demure, secretly triumphant. Supper at the parsonage was deferred for an hour that evening, until the guests should arrive. Mrs Tremayne received both with a motherly kiss. Foolish as she thought Blanche, she looked upon her as being almost as much a victim of others' folly as a sufferer for her own: and Thekla Tremayne knew well that the knowledge that we have ourselves to thank for our suffering does not lessen the pain, but increases it. The kindness with which Blanche was received--rather as an honoured guest than as a naughty child sent to Coventry--was soothing to her ruffled feelings. Still she had a great deal to, bear. She was deeply grieved to be suddenly and completely parted from Don Juan; and she imagined that he would be as much distressed as herself. But the idea of rebelling against her father's decree never entered her head; neither did the least suspicion of Lucrece's share in the matter.