“Grandmother,” says the young man, changing the subject, “what a very pretty girl that was, I found with you just now. You called her Rosa ?”
“Yes, child. She is daughter of a widow in the village. Maids are so hard to teach, now-a-days, that I have put her about me young. She′s an apt scholar, and will do well. She shews the house already, very pretty. She lives with me, at my table here.”
“I hope I have not driven her away?”
“She supposes we have family affairs to speak about, I dare say. She is very modest. It is a fine quality in a young woman. And scarcer,” says Mrs. Rouncewell, expanding her stomacher to its utmost limits, “than it formerly was !”
The young man inclines his head, in acknowledgment of the precepts of experience. Mrs. Rouncewell listens.
“Wheels !” says she. They have long been audible to the younger ears of her companion. “What wheels on such a day as this, for gracious sake ?”
After a short interval, a tap at the door. “Come in !” A dark-eyed, dark-haired, shy, village beauty comes in—so fresh in her rosy and yet delicate bloom, that the drops of rain, which have beaten on her hair, look like the dew upon a flower fresh-gathered.
“What company is this, Rosa ?” says Mrs. Rouncewell.
“It′s two young men in a gig, ma′am, who want to see the house—yes, and if you please, I told them so !” in quick reply to a gesture of dissent from the housekeeper. “I went to the hall door, and told them it was the wrong day, and the wrong hour ; but the young man who was driving took off his hat in the wet, and begged me to bring this card to you.”
“Read it, my dear Watt,” says the housekeeper.
Rosa is so shy as she gives it to him, that they drop it between them, and almost knock their foreheads together as they pick it up. Rosa is shyer than before.
“Mr. Guppy” is all the information the card yields.
“Guppy !” repeats Mrs. Rouncewell. “Mr. Guppy! Nonsense, I never heard of him !”
“If you please, he told me that !” says Rosa. “But he said that he and the other young gentleman came from London only last night by the mail, on business at the magistrates′ meeting ten miles off, this morning; and that as their business was soon over, and they had heard a great deal said of Chesney Wold, and really didn′t know what to do with themselves, they had come through the wet to see it. They are lawyers. He says he is not in Mr. Tulkinghorn′s office, but is sure he may make use of Mr. Tulkinghorn′s name, if necessary.” Finding, now she leaves off, that she has been making quite a long speech, Rosa is shyer than ever.
Now, Mr. Tulkinghorn is, in a manner, part and parcel of the place ; and, besides, is supposed to have made Mrs. Rouncewell′s will. The old lady relaxes, consents to the admission of the visitors as a favor, and dismisses Rosa. The grandson, however, being smitten by a sudden wish to see the house himself, proposes to join the party. The grandmother, who is pleased that he should have that interest, accompanies him—though, to do him justice, he is exceedingly unwilling to trouble her.
“Much obliged to you, ma′am !” says Mr, Guppy, divesting himself of his wet dreadnought in the hall. “Us London lawyers don′t often