"I am travelling in Dorsetshire for my health," said the lady, who was no other than Honoria Eversleigh, "and the quiet of this place suits me. You will be good enough to prepare rooms for myself and my maid." "You would like your maid's bed-room to be adjoining your own, no doubt, madam?" hazarded the landlady. "No," answered Honoria; "I do not wish that; I prefer entire privacy in my own apartment." "As you please, madam--we have plenty of bedrooms." The landlady of the "Rose and Crown" ushered her visitors into the best sitting-room the house afforded--an old-fashioned apartment, with a wide fire-place, high wooden mantel-piece, and heavily-timbered ceiling--a room which seemed to belong to the past rather than the present. Lady Eversleigh sat by the table in a thoughtful attitude, while the fire was being lighted and a tray of tea-things arranged for that refreshment which is most welcome of all others to an Englishwoman. Jane Payland stood by the opposite angle of the mantel-piece, watching her mistress with a countenance almost as thoughtful as that of Honoria herself. It was in the wintry dusk that these two travellers arrived at Frimley. Jane Payland walked to one of the narrow, old-fashioned windows, and looked out into the street, where lights were burning dimly here and there. "What a strange old place, ma'am," she said. Honoria had forbidden her to say "my lady" since their departure from Raynham. "Yes," her mistress answered, absently; "it is a world-forgotten old place." "But the rest and change will, no doubt, be beneficial, ma'am," said Miss Payland, in her most insinuating tone; "and I am sure you must require change and fresh country air after being pent up in a London street." Lady Eversleigh shook off her abstraction of manner, and turned towards her servant, with a calm, serious gaze. "I want change of scene, and the fresh breath of country air, Jane," she said, gravely; "but it is not for those I came to Frimley, and you know that it is not. Why should we try to deceive each other? The purpose of my life is a very grave one; the secret of my coming and going is a very bitter secret, and if I do not choose to share it with you, I withhold nothing that you need care to know. Let me play my part unwatched and unquestioned. You will find yourself well rewarded by and by for your forbearance and devotion. Be faithful to me, my good girl; but do not try to discover the motive of my actions, and believe, even when they seem most strange to you, that they are justified by one great purpose." Jane Payland's eyelids drooped before the serious and penetrating gaze of her mistress. "You may feel sure of my being faithful, ma'am," she answered, promptly; "and as to curiosity, I should be the very last creature upon this earth to try to pry into your secrets."