Trevanion’s door, with a determination to make both her grievances and her discovery known at once. “Mr. Trevanion,” said Russell, “may I speak a word with you, sir, if you please?” John Trevanion turned around upon his chair, and looked at her with surprise, and an uncomfortable sense of something painful to come. What had he to do with the women-servants? That, at least, was out of his department. “What do you want?” he asked in a helpless tone. “Mr. John,” said Russell, drawing nearer, “there is something that I must say. I can’t say it to Mrs. Lennox, for she’s turned against me like the rest. But a gentleman is more unpartial like. Do you know, sir, who it is that is coming here every day, and after Miss Rosalind, as they tell me? After Miss Rosalind! It’s not a thing I like to say of a young lady, and one that I’ve brought up, which makes it a deal worse; but she has no proper pride. Mr. John, do you know who that Mr. Everard, as they call him, is?” “Yes, I know who he is. You had better attend to the affairs of the nursery, Russell.” This touched into a higher blaze the fire of Russell’s wrath. “The nursery! I’m not allowed in it. There is another woman there that thinks she has the right to my place. I’m put in a room to do needlework, Mr. John. Me! and Miss Amy in Miss Rosalind’s room, that doesn’t know no more than you do how to manage her. But I mustn’t give way,” the woman cried, with an effort. “Do you know as the police are after him, Mr. John? Do you know it was all along of him as Madam went away?” John Trevanion sprang from his chair. “Be silent, woman!” he cried; “how dare you speak so to me?” “I’ve said it before, and I will again!” cried Russell--“a man not half her age. Oh, it was a shame!--and out of a house like Highcourt--and a lady that should know better, not a poor servant like them that are sent out of the way at a moment’s notice when they go wrong. Don’t lift your hand to me, Mr. John. Would you strike a woman, sir, and call yourself a gentleman? And you that brought me here against my will when I was happy at home. I won’t go out of the room till I have said my say.” “No,” said John, with a laugh which was half rage, though the idea that he was likely to strike Russell was a ludicrous exasperation. “No, as you are a woman I can’t, unfortunately, knock you down, whatever impertinence you may say.” “I am glad of that, sir,” said Russell, “for you looked very like it; and I’ve served the Trevanions for years, though I don’t get much credit for it, and I shouldn’t like to have to say as the lady of the house forgot herself for a boy, and a gentleman of the house struck a woman. I’ve too much regard for them to do that.”