“There, I’ve given offence to Master Charles,” Miss Kingscote reflected glumly after she was alone. “He’s taken to hurting my feelings by twitting me with what we’ve lost, as if the worsest loss weren’t mine! not that I show it neither, for I’m sure I’m a powerful fine woman, considering my lack of education. And so she’s Lady Bell, and if she had bidden still, I mun have said my lady every blessed word, and run at her heels as I’ve never made her run at mine. But if this Squire Trevor, as she has given leg-bail to, had not come on the carpet, first and foremost, ere we set eyes on her, mightn’t she have been my Lady Bell Kingscote! That do sound fine! prodigious fine! But if there had never been no Squire Trevor, there would never have been no bolting, banding with the players, turning up at Nutfield, and making friends with Master Charles, so there is an end on’t. My Master Charles mun go to the wars, and risk a sabre’s cut spoiling his bonnie face,” mused Miss Kingscote, whimpering at the very thought, “afore he fill his chimney-corner, and bring home his lady to sit down cheek by jowl with him, while I’ll be right glad to retire to mother’s room, save when they want my company, for I ain’t teethy or prideful—I never were. That mun be the order of the day, as Master Charles ought to know.” Even before the parting, Master Charles had cause to renounce his mortified conviction of how little he and his sister were to Lady Bell Trevor, and of how she had done with them from this day. She was grateful for the assistance and escort as far as Lumley, which he offered so soon as he ascertained that the offer would be agreeable to her and Madam Sundon. Lady Bell put her head out of the chaise window at the last. Her scared eyes looked with almost timid beseeching into his face. She told him, without any sign of haughtiness, but with many tokens of a retentive memory for the smallest act of consideration and kindness, of contrition for having played a part to him and his sister, and for not having trusted them in full, that she had been very well off and happy at Nutfield. She hoped that his colours would arrive soon, that he would see a campaign to his wish, and return safe and sound to cheer his sister’s heart. Lady Bell sent Miss Kingscote her grateful duty. Lady Bell trusted they would meet again, when she would be able to finish her chair-covers. In the meantime, she would not forget to procure patterns for Miss Kingscote. Miss Kingscote must be especially kind to Lady Bell’s brood of chicks—the first brood she had seen set, seen hatched, and fed every day with her own hands.