st-chaise, of course," said the landlady,
speaking from the bar. "Oh, yes, Lord Stapledean is at home, safe
enough. He's never very far away from it to the best of my belief."

"It's only a mile or so, is it?" said Mrs. Wilkinson.

"Seven long miles, ma'am," said the landlady.

"Seven miles! dear, dear. I declare I never was so tired in my life.
You can put the box somewhere behind in the post-chaise, can't you?"

"Yes, ma'am; we can do that. Be you a-going to stay at his
lordship's, then?"

To this question Mrs. Wilkinson made an ambiguous answer. Her
confidence was waning, now that she drew near to the centre of her
aspirations. But at last she did exactly as her son had done before
her. She said she would take her box; but that it was possible she
might want a bed that evening. "Very possible," the landlady said to
herself.

"And you'll take a bite of something before you start, ma'am," she
said, out loud. But, no; it was only now twelve o'clock, and she
would be at Bowes Lodge a very little after one. She had still
sufficient confidence in Lord Stapledean to feel sure of her lunch.
When people reached Hurst Staple Vicarage about that hour, there was
always something for them to eat. And so she started.

It was April now; but even in April that bleak northern fell was very
cold. Nothing more inhospitable than that road could be seen. It
was unsheltered, swept by every blast, very steep, and mercilessly
oppressed by turnpikes. Twice in those seven miles one-and-sixpence
was inexorably demanded from her.

"But I know one gate always clears the other, when they are so near,"
she argued.

"Noa, they doant," was all the answer she received from the turnpike
woman, who held a baby under each arm.

"I am sure the woman is robbing me," said poor Mrs. Wilkinson.

"No, she beant," said the post-boy. They are good hearty people in
that part of the world; but they do not brook suspicion, and the
courtesies of life are somewhat neglected. And then she arrived at
Lord Stapledean's gate.

"Be you she what sent the letter?" said the woman at the lodge,
holding it only half open.

"Yes, my good woman; yes," said Mrs. Wilkinson, thinking that her
troubles were now nearly over. "I am the lady; I am Mrs. Wilkinson."

"Then my lord says as how you're to send up word what you've got to
say." And the woman still stood in the gateway.

"Send up word!" said Mrs. Wilkinson.

"Yees. Just send up word. Here's Jock can rin u