"How do you do? We have come to see
the house," repeated Uncle Joseph, giving
his irresistible form of salutation the benefit
of a second trial.

"So you said just now, sir," remarked
Mrs. Pentreath, recovering self-possession
enough to use her tongue in her own defence.
"Does the lady," she continued, looking down
over the old man's shoulder at the step on
which his niece was standing; "does the
lady wish to see the house too?"

Sarah's gently-spoken reply in the affirmative,
short as it was, convinced the housekeeper
that the woman described in Mrs.
Frankland's letter really and truly stood
before her. Besides the neat, quiet dress,
there was now the softly-toned voice, and,
when she looked up for a moment, there
were the timid eyes also to identify her by!
In relation to this one of the two strangers,
Mrs. Pentreath, however agitated and surprised
she might be, could no longer feel any
uncertainty about the course she ought to
adopt. But in relation to the other visitor,
the incomprehensible old foreigner, she was
beset by the most bewildering doubts. Would
it be safest to hold to the letter of Mrs.
Frankland's instructions, and ask him to
wait outside while the lady was being shown
over the house? or would it be best to act
on her own responsibility and to risk giving
him admission as well as his companion?
This was a difficult point to decide, and
therefore one which it was necessary to
submit to the superior sagacity of Mr.
Munder.

"Will you step in for a moment, and wait
here while I speak to the steward," said Mrs.
Pentreath, pointedly neglecting to notice the
familiar old foreigner, and addressing herself
straight through him to the lady on the steps
below.

"Thank you very much," said Uncle
Joseph, smiling and bowing, impervious to
rebuke. "What did I tell you?" he whispered
triumphantly to his niece, as she passed
him on her way into the house.

Mrs. Pentreath's first impulse was to go
down-stairs at once, and speak to Mr. Munder.
But a timely recollection of that part of
Mrs. Frankland's letter which enjoined her
not to lose sight of the lady in the quiet
dress, brought her to a stand-still the next
moment. She was the more easily recalled
to a remembrance of this particular injunction,
by a curious alteration in the conduct of
the lady herself, who seemed to lose all her
diffidence, and to become surprisingly
impatient to lead the way into the interior of
the house, the moment she had stepped across
the threshold.

"Betsey!" cried Mrs. Pentreath,
cautiously calling to the servant after she had
only retired a few paces from the visitors.
"Betsey! ask Mr. Munder to be so kind as
to step this way."

Mr. Munder presented himself with great
deliberation, and with a certain dark and
lowering dignity in his face. He had been
accustomed to be treated with deference, and
he was not pleased with the housekeeper for
unceremoniously leaving him the moment
she heard the ring at the bell, without giving
him time to pronounce an opinion on Mrs.
Frankland's letter. Accordingly, when Mrs.
Pentreath, in a high state of excitement, drew
him aside out of hearing, and confided to him,
in a whisper, the astounding intelligence that
the lady in whom Mr. and Mrs. Frankland
were so mysteriously interested, was, at that
moment, actually standing before him in the
house, he received her communication with
an air of the most provoking indifference. It
was worse still, when she proceeded to state
her difficulties — warily keeping her eye on
the two strangers all the while. Appeal as
respectfully as she might to Mr. Munder's
superior wisdom for guidance, he persisted in
listening with a disparaging frown, and ended
by irritably contradicting her when she ventured
to add, in conclusion, that her own
ideas inclined her to assume no responsibility,
and to beg the foreign gentleman to wait
outside while the lady, in conformity with
Mrs. Frankland's instructions, was being
shown over the house.

"Such may be your opinion, ma'am," said
Mr. Munder severely. "It is not mine."

The housekeeper looked aghast. "Perhaps,"
she suggested deferentially, "you
think that the foreign old gentleman would be
likely to insist on going over the house with
the lady?"

"Of course, I think so," said Mr. Munder.
(He had thought nothing of the sort; his
only idea just then being the idea of
asserting his own supremacy by setting himself
steadily in opposition to any preconceived
arrangements of Mrs. Pentreath.)

"Then you would take the responsibility of
showing them both over the house, seeing
that they have both come to the door
together?" asked the housekeeper.

"Of course, I would," answered the
steward, with the marvellous promptitude of
resolution which distinguishes all superior
men.

"Well, Mr. Munder, I am always glad to
be guided by your opinion, and I will be
guided by it now," said Mrs. Pentreath. "But,
as there will be two people to look after— for
I would not trust the foreigner out of sight
on any consideration whatever— I must
really beg you to share the trouble of showing
them over the house along with me.
I am so excited and nervous, that I don't feel
as if I had all my wits about me— I never
was placed in such a position as this before—
I am in the midst of mysteries that I don't
understand— and, in short, if I can't count on
your assistance, I won't answer for it that I
shall not make some mistake. I should be
very sorry to make a mistake, not only on
my own account, but—" Here the