“Nothing, my dear lady, only that you have no more curiosity about this quail, which I consider a god-send, than if your father’s gamekeeper had furnished it for the Hyde Hall breakfast table.” At this sudden mention of her old home, Lady Montressor grew pale as death, and Susan in alarm, hastened to apologize. “No, no—say nothing, as you are not to blame, child.” There was a pause, and then Susan entreated her mistress to try and partake of some breakfast, and especially to try the “quail.” And Lady Montressor, rather to gratify the girl than to please herself, complied. The idea of telling her mistress about the graveyard vision of the white-robed lady occurred to Susan; but she prudently dismissed the gloomy subject, and told instead the pleasant story of the old centennial sportsman, whose gun had supplied the game for breakfast. Lady Montressor listened, and replied: “Bear the old man my thanks, Susan, and do not let his efforts go unrewarded.” And Susan did as her mistress directed. After breakfast, and after the young woman, with the assistance of Amphy, had put the lower rooms in order, and unpacked and disposed Lady Montressor’s few books upon the parlor table—leaving her ladyship engaged in reading, she went up stairs and explored the upper rooms, which she found completely bare of furniture, and even of window glasses—the closed shutters concealing this latter named deficiency from the outside; the plastering was cracked, and hanging in dangerous masses from the ceiling; and the locks on the doors were all broken; but the floor, and all the wood and brick-work were perfectly sound. From the second story, Susan went up into the attic, which she found in even a worse condition—the window-sashes being entirely gone, and not only the plastering, but the lathing broken. But here, also, the plank and brick-work was sound, although the deep stains on walls and floor proved that in rainy weather the roof leaked badly. “Horridly out of repair, but a good, soundly-built house, for all that; and a few hundred dollars will make it a very comfortable one,” was the conclusion to which Susan came. She then went down stairs, and inquired of old Amphy how she might best reach the village of Eastville, to which she wished to go, to procure workmen to come out and repair the house. Amphy assured her that the horse “Charley” and the carry-all, that had been left by Miss Barbary, in the old man’s care, was at her service, and that the old man himself would be happy to drive her over there. This plan was no sooner proposed than accepted, and Susan went in to inform her mistress of her projected journey. She found Lady Montressor seated near the window, with the book held idly on her lap in one careless hand, while the other arm, resting its elbow on the window-sill, supported her drooping head. Susan proposed her errand, and received the lady’s ready acquiescence.