She flew to her mistress' room and threw open the blinds, letting in a
flood of morning light.
And then she went to the bedside and drew back the curtains and looked
upon the face of the sleeper. Such a pale, sad, worn-looking face! with
the full lips closed, the long black lashes lying on the waxen cheeks,
the slender black brows slightly contracted, and the long purplish black
hair flowing down each side and resting upon the swelling bosom; her
arms were thrown up over the pillow, and her hands clasped over her
head. This attitude added to the utter sadness and weariness of her
aspect.
Phoebe slowly shook her head, murmuring: "I can't think why a lady having beauty and wealth and rank should break
her heart about any scamp of a man! Why couldn't she have purchased an
estate with her money and settled down in Old England? And if she must
have married, why didn't she marry the marquis? Lack-a-daisy-me! I wish
she had never seen this young scamp! She didn't sleep the whole night! I
know it was after four o'clock in the morning that I dropped off, and
the last thing I knew was trying to keep awake and listen to her
tossing! Well, whatever her appointment was this morning, she has missed
it by a good hour and a half; that she has, and I'm glad of it. Sleep is
the best part of life, and there isn't anything in this world worth
waking up for, as I've found out yet! Let her sleep on; she's dead for
it, anyway. So let her sleep on, and I'll take the blame."
And with this the judicious Phoebe carefully drew the bed curtains
again, closed the window shutters, and withdrew to her own room to
complete her toilet.
After a little while Phoebe went below to get her breakfast, which she
always took in the housekeeper's room.
Mrs. Spicer had breakfasted long before, and so she met the girl with a
sharp rebuke for keeping late hours.
"Pray," she inquired mockingly, "is it the fashion in the country you
came from for servants to be abed until ten o'clock in the morning?"
"That depends on circumstances," answered Phoebe, with assumed
gravity; "the servants of noble families like the Countess of
Hurstmonceux's lie late; but the servants of common folks like yours
have to get up early."
"Like ours, you impudent minx! I'll have you to know that our
family--the Brudenells--are as good as any other family in the world!
But it is not the custom here for the maids to lie in bed until all
hours of the morning, and that you'll find!" cried Mrs. Spicer in a
passion.