“Ah, well,” says Mr Sternhold cautiously, “I can’t pretend to answer for Mrs Brandon’s resentiments,” and with that he stopped, and I could not frame to question him further on the point, though I had fain known whether he sought only to check my too-eager assurance, as had Mr Martin, or whether he did hint obscurely at some actual and apparent rival. But now we were come to Mr Sternhold’s house, and though he would fain have borne me company to the Hall, I would not suffer it, accepting only his proffer of his servant and lantern for to light me thither. And we walking on together--viz., the servant Tom and I--I desired much to question him touching Dorothy, with the view to learn the truth regarding the matter that puzzled me, but refrained, thinking shame to encourage a serving-lad to play the spy on my cousin. Arriving then at the gate, I dismissed him with a present, and went on alone up the fir-walk, remembering how the last time I had rid down it Dorothy had stood and cried to me, saying, “True knight for true lady, Cousin Ned!” With these words of hers in my ears, I rang the bell at the great hall-door, and presently heard the bolts and bars undone within, and an ancient serving-man opened the door a small space, and looked out for to see who was there. And I seeing it to be Miles, that I had known well of old, it was in my mind to play him a trick. “Who’s there,” says Miles, peering at me, I standing before him on the step. “An honest traveller,” says I, “with news from East India.” “This an’t no inn,” says he. “Why not bring your news in the daytime?” “Because I an’t but just arrived in the town,” quoth I. “Prythee, good fellow, let me in, and give me speech of Mrs Brandon, for I am come to bring her word of an old friend.” “From the Indies?” saith he, opening the door wider. “Why, then, give me your message, so I may take it to Mrs Dorothy, and ask her if she will please to see you.” “Nay,” says I, “I’ll give my message to none but Mrs Brandon herself.” “I see you are an impudent fellow,” says he. “If I may not serve you, sure you may go whistle for Mrs Brandon, for I won’t disturb her nigh upon supper-time for to come to the door on a fool’s errand.” “You lack a master here, indeed!” said I, in some heat, but ceased suddenly, for I beheld a lady come down the great oaken staircase, who stood still on a sudden at the sound of our wrangling, and looked towards us. As she stood there, holding a great candlestick of silver in her hand, I could almost have thought her a painted portrait, framed in the doorway of the gallery behind her, so clearly could I mark her gown of flowered tabby and black satin petticoat, her dark hair curled under a high cap with lace, and even the silver buckles on her shoes. Though I could see all this so well, ’twas but for a moment that she stood thus, her face wearing a quick, eager look, then came down the stairs, and setting her candle on the table, came towards us.