Glencora had made for herself excuses which were not altogether
untrue. She had been very young, and had been terribly weighted with
her wealth.

And it seemed to Alice that her cousin had told her everything in
that hour and a half that they had been together. She had given
a whole history of her husband and of herself. She had said how
indifferent he was to her pleasures, and how vainly she strove to
interest herself in his pursuits. And then, as yet, she was childless
and without prospect of a child, when, as she herself had said,--"so
much depended on it." It was very strange to Alice that all this
should have been already told to her. And why should Lady Glencora
think of Alice when she walked out among the priory ruins by
moonlight?

The two hours seemed to her very long,--as though she were passing
her time in absolute seclusion at Matching. Of course she did not
dare to go down-stairs. But at last her maid came to dress her.

"How do you get on below, Jane?" her mistress asked her.

"Why, miss, they are uncommon civil, and I don't think after all it
will be so bad. We had our teas very comfortable in the housekeeper's
room. There are five or six of us altogether, all ladies'-maids,
miss; and there's nothing on earth to do all the day long, only sit
and do a little needlework over the fire."

A few minutes before eight Lady Glencora knocked at Alice's door, and
took her arm to lead her to the drawing-room. Alice saw that she was
magnificently dressed, with an enormous expanse of robe, and that her
locks had been so managed that no one could suspect the presence of
a grey hair. Indeed, with all her magnificence, she looked almost a
child. "Let me see," she said, as they went down-stairs together.
"I'll tell Jeffrey to take you in to dinner. He's about the easiest
young man we have here. He rather turns up his nose at everything,
but that doesn't make him the less agreeable; does it, dear?--unless
he turns up his nose at you, you know."

"But perhaps he will."

"No; he won't do that. That would be uncourteous,--and he's the most
courteous man in the world. There's nobody here, you see," she said
as they entered the room, "and I didn't suppose there would be. It's
always proper to be first in one's own house. I do so try to be
proper,--and it is such trouble. Talking of people earning their
bread, Alice;--I'm sure I earn mine. Oh dear!--what fun it would be
to be sitting somewhere in Asia, eating a chicken