She smiled at him as he held her hand, but as she went up the stairs the
smile vanished, and, if it is ever possible for so beautiful a woman to
become suddenly plain, then Lady Luce's face achieved that
transformation.
Gnawing at her underlip, she entered her room, flung herself into a
chair, and beat a tattoo with her foot. The door opened softly, and
Burden stole in. She was very pale, there were dark marks under her
eyes, and she trembled so violently that the brushes rattled together as
she took them from the table.
Lady Luce looked up at her angrily.
"What is the matter with you?" she demanded. "You look more like a ghost
than a human being, or as if you'd been drinking."
Burden winced under the insult, and stole behind her mistress' chair;
but Lady Luce faced round after her.
"You're not fit to do my hair, or anything else!" she said. "What is the
matter now? Your mother or one of your other relations, I suppose. You
always have some excuse or other for your whims and fancies."
"I--I am rather upset, my lady!" Burden responded, almost inaudibly.
"The--the robbery----"
"What does it concern you?" said Lady Luce sharply. "It is no affair of
yours; your business is to wait upon me, and if you can't or won't do it
properly----"
The brush fell from Burden's uncertain hand, and Lady Luce sprang to her
feet in a passion.
"Oh, go away! Get out of my sight!" she said contemptuously. "Go down to
the kitchen and tremble and shake with the other maids. I can't put up
with you to-night."
"I'm--I'm very sorry, my lady. I'm upset--everybody's upset."
"Oh, go--go!" broke in Lady Luce impatiently. "If you are not better
to-morrow, you'd better go for good!"
Burden stood for a moment uncertainly; then, with a stifled sob, left
the room, and went down the corridor toward the servants' apartments;
but halfway she stopped, hesitated, then descended the back stairs and
stole softly along one of the passages. A door from the smoking room
opened on to this passage, and against this she leaned and listened.
Sparling and the grooms who had joined in the pursuit of the burglars
had come back full of the chase and its results, and there was an
excited and dramatic recital going on in the servants' hall at that
moment; but she dared not go there, though she was in an agony of
anxiety to know the whole truth and the fate of her lover. Her face, her
overwrought condition, would have betrayed her; so, at the least, would
have caused surprise and aroused suspicion. She could not face the
servants' hall, but she knew that the gentlemen would be discussing the
affair in the smoking room, and that if she could listen unseen she
should hear what had happened to Ted. It was Ted, and nothing, no one
else she cared about.