And avoiding all family matters, which, sooth to say, Roland disdained to discuss with her, even his father's death, more than all the alleged terms of the odious will and similar subjects, they talked the merest commonplaces--of the weather, the crops, the country, and of the war in Egypt--but all in a jerky and unconnected fashion, as each felt that a moment might land them on that dangerous ground which was inevitably to be traversed yet. 'And Maude?' said Roland during a pause; 'she must be quite a grown-up young lady now.' 'Yes, she is close on twenty; but I do not see much of Maude.' 'Why?' 'She stays away from Earlshaugh as much as she can, with friends in Edinburgh, London, and elsewhere.' While closely observing his stepmother, Roland was compelled to admit to himself that she was ladylike. In her fortieth year, her hair was fair and thick; her stature good; her hands well-shaped and white, but somewhat large. Her face was perfectly colourless; her eyes small, glittering, of the palest gray, planted near a thin and aquiline nose; her lips were also thin, not ill-tempered, but like her whole expression--hard. Her teeth were small and sharp-looking; her face lineless--she looked ten years younger than she was, and was beautifully, even tastefully, dressed. She wore now, as she always did, a handsome-trimmed black costume of the richest material, with a white cap of fine lace, slightly trimmed with black, as a sign of widowhood, and jet ornaments, with a few pearls among them. 'I do so long to see my dear little Maude!' exclaimed Roland. 'You have been in no hurry to do so,' said Mrs. Lindsay, with a cold smile. 'My uncle at Merlwood was so hospitable,' replied Roland, reddening a little. Could he say to Mrs. Lindsay that _her_ presence had kept him away from Earlshaugh to the last moment, or refer to the new influence of Annot Drummond on himself? 'By-the-bye,' said he abruptly, 'I met a fellow at the door--Mr. Hawkey Sharpe by name, it seems--who I understand has been installed here as a kind of steward or general factotum.' 'What of him?' 'Only that I have made up my mind that he shall march from this, and pretty quick too!' 'There may be some difficulties about that,' replied Mrs. Lindsay, with a hectic flush crossing her pale cheek, and a sharp glitter in her cold gray eyes. 'Difficulties--how? With old MacWadsett?' 'With more than him.' 'What do you mean? By Jove, we shall soon see.' 'What we shall _see_,' muttered Mrs. Lindsay under her sharp teeth; but Roland, who could not be perfectly suave with her, now asked sharply: 'Why was there not a vehicle--trap--phaeton, or anything else, sent to meet me at the station?' 'Was there none?' she asked languidly. 'None--and I had to leave my luggage there.' 'Dear me--how negligent--eh, Fifine, was it not?' said she, toying with the ears of her cur.