“In truly, my lady; and I have to ask your ladyship’s pardon for not bringing it early this morning, when his honour gave it to me with his own hand out of ‘his travelling carriage. And very white and wasted he looked, dear gentleman, not fit for a voyage to France in this severe weather. And I was to carry you his letter immediately; but, eh, gud! your ladyship, there was never such a business as mine for surprises. I was putting on my cloak to step out with your ladyship’s letter, when a coach, with a footman in the royal undress livery, sets down at my door, and one of the Duchess’s women had come to fetch me to her Highness; and there I was kept in her Highness’s chamber half the morning, disputing over a paduasoy for the Shrove Tuesday masquerade—for her Highness gets somewhat bulky, and is not easy to dress to her advantage or to my credit—though she is a beauty compared with the Queen, who still hankers after her hideous Portuguese fashions——” “And employs your rival, Madame Marifleur——” “Marifleur! If your ladyship knew the creature as well as I do, you’d call her Sally Cramp.” “I never can remember a low English name. Marifleur seems to promise all that there is of the most graceful and airy in a ruffled sleeve and a ribbon shoulder-knot.” “I am glad to see your ladyship is in such good spirits,” said the milliner, wondering at Lady Fareham’s flushed cheeks and brilliant eyes. They were brilliant with a somewhat glassy brightness, and there was a touch of hysteria in her manner. Mrs. Lewin thought she had been drinking. Many of her customers ended that way—took to cognac and ratafia, when choicer pleasures were exhausted and wrinkles began to show through their paint. Hyacinth was reading De Malfort’s letter as she talked, moving about the room a little, and then stopping in front of the fireplace, where the light from two clusters of wax candles shone down upon the finely written page. Mrs. Lewin watched her for a few minutes, and then produced some pieces of silk out of her muff. “I made so bold as to bring your ladyship some patterns of Italian silks which only came to hand this morning,” she said. “There is a cherry-red that would become your ladyship to the T.” “Make me a gown of it, my excellent Lewin—and good night to you.” “But sure your ladyship will look at the colour? There is a pattern of amber with gold thread might please you better. Lady Castlemaine has ordered a Court mantua——” Lady Fareham rang her hand-bell with a vehemence that suggested anger. “Show Mrs. Lewin to her coach,” she said shortly, when her woman appeared. “When you have done that you may go to bed; I want nothing more to-night.” “Mrs. Kirkland has been asking to see your ladyship.” “I will see no one to-night. Tell Mrs. Kirkland so, with my love.” She ran to the door when the maid and milliner were gone, and locked it, and then ran back to the fireplace, and flung herself down upon the rug to read her letter.