The little landlady bustled out to obey his orders; and then bustled back again to lay the cloth for breakfast. Her cheerful face was now disturbed by anxiety. She cast furtive searching glances into Lord Montressor’s thoughtful, abstracted countenance—and quickly withdrew them in fear of discovery. In fact, the little body would have given the world, or at least her share in it—“Morelle Arms”—to have the privilege of inquiring after her nursling, Estelle. On observing Lord Montressor alight from the coach, she had naturally looked to see him hand _her_ out, thinking that they were both together, and both going to spend Christmas with the lady’s parents up at the Hall. She could not understand why “my lord” should be _en route_ alone, to enjoy Christmas with her family, where she was not. It is true that many contradictory rumors had reached Hyde. But Dame Higgins doubted each and all, and now seeing Lord Montressor, she sighed for Estelle. When the breakfast was ready she brought it in, and with the hope of hearing something indirectly of her “nurse child,” she remained and waited on the table. “Do you know, are the family at the Hall in their usual health, Mrs. Higgins?” inquired his lordship, as he received a cup of coffee from her hands. “Ah, my lord, begging your lordship’s pardon, is it like they should be well? Sir Parke is much broken, and Lady Morelle is not the handsome, youthful-looking woman that she was a year ago,” said the landlady, shaking her head gravely. Now Lord Montressor had not asked for, or expected this implied reflection upon the family misfortunes, on the part of Mother Higgins. He surmised in himself, a certain indiscretion in having made any inquiries whatever. He now made no comment upon her communication, but continued perfectly silent. Not so the landlady. As his lordship had set the example of asking questions, she ventured to follow it. “I hope my lady was in good health when your lordship came away?” said Mrs. Higgins, putting her question in the most polite—that is, in the affirmative, form. “I thank you—yes,” replied Lord Montressor, in a tone and manner that forbade farther encroachments on the part of his hostess. The little woman therefore occupied herself with waiting on her guest, and held her tongue until again she was spoken with. “Can I have a chaise from this place to take me over to the Hall, Mrs. Higgins?” at length asked Lord Montressor. “Indeed, your lordship, I am very sorry, but the chaise has gone to Horsford, this morning, to take over some Christmas visitors that came down from London last night, and it won’t be back before noon,” replied the landlady, with a look of real regret. Horsford! How that name recalled the scene of the preliminary investigation. “Ah, Sir George Bannerman, that is a debt that remains to be settled,” thought Lord Montressor.