`Yes，mum，’saidshe，quietly，asshewentonarrangingmyhair。

　　`Doyoubelievethem，Rachel？’Iasked，afterashortpause。

　　`No，miss，notall，Youknowwhenalotofservantsgetstogether，theyliketotalkabouttheirbetters：andsome，forabitofswagger，likestomakeitappearasthoughtheyknewmorethantheydo，andtothrowouthintsandthings，justtoastonishtheothers。ButIthink，ifIwasyou，MissHelen，I’dlookverywellbeforeIleaped。Idobelieveayoungladycan’tbetoocarefulwhoshemarries。’

　　`Ofcoursenot，’saidI——`butbequick，willyou，Rachel？Iwanttobedressed。’

　　Andindeed，Iwasanxioustoberidofthegoodwoman，forIwasinsuchamelancholyframeIcouldhardlykeepthetearsoutofmyeyeswhileshedressedme。ItwasnotforLordLowborough——itwasnotforAnnabella——itwasnotformyself——itwasforArthurHuntingdonthattheyrose。

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