“Tell my waiting-woman to come to me,” said Georgiana. The maid having gone, another space of embarrassment ensued, until Georgiana was fain to break the silence by an ill-simulated cough. This was followed by a profound sigh on the part of Everell, who had indeed never been so tongue-tied in his life. Roughwood meanwhile stood witnessing with amusement. He was not the sort of man to come to the rescue at such junctures in any case, being of a reserved disposition, and he was certainly not inclined to pity the discomposure of his gay and confident friend. At last Prudence made her appearance, with officious haste and solicitude. “What is it, your la’ship?” Seeing the gentlemen, she turned her glance upon them before her mistress could answer. “Oh, lor!” she cried, and stood stock-still, staring open-mouthed at Everell. “Prudence! what do you mean?” said Georgiana. “Oh, lor!” repeated the girl. “The gentleman with the heart! Under his right eye, too! The very place!” “Prudence, what impertinence! Have you lost your senses?—Sir, I beg pardon for the poor girl. I don’t know what she means, but no harm, I’m certain.” “Oh, mistress, your la’ship, come away!” begged Prudence, and, taking hold of Georgiana’s sleeve, essayed to draw her from the room. In astonishment, and hope of learning the cause of this extraordinary conduct, Georgiana made a brief curtsey to the gentlemen, and followed the maid out to the passage, where she bade her explain herself. But Prudence was not content till she had led her mistress into the opposite entry and partly up the stairs, whither it was impossible for the gaze of the two gentlemen to reach them. Everell, quite heedless of the maid’s behaviour, had started forward with a stifled exclamation of protest when Georgiana had moved to leave them. He had stopped before arriving at the door, of course; and now that she had disappeared from view across the passage, he turned to Roughwood with a forlorn countenance. Roughwood, however, was in no mood for either sympathy or rallying. Prudence’s demonstration had worked its full effect upon him, and his brow was now grave with concern. “Did you ever see such angelic sweetness, such divine gentleness?” asked Everell. “Did you attend to what her waiting-woman said?” replied Roughwood, rather sharply. “Something about my heart, or my eye, was it not? Sure, my heart may well have been in my eyes, when they looked on that lovely creature.” “She was noticing the scar on your face. She has heard you described, no doubt. News of us has travelled along the road. ’Tis the work of the fellow we saw yesterday, I dare say. How often did I beg you to cover that scar with a patch?” “Pshaw, you always see the worst possibility. The boy with the horses has been talking of us in the kitchen, that’s all. He has invented some wild tale of us, as those people do of their masters and employers.”