She sat a moment, thoughtful and sad, then rose and set herself to prepare carefully for the visit. In the afternoon! Then she might wear the silk gown and lovely hat. Once more she tried to arrange her hair as she saw other young women wear theirs, and again swept its heavy masses back loosely from her brow and coiled it low as her custom was.
The landlady's daughter chattered happily as they drove. She held the baby on her knee, and he played with the blue beads she wore about her neck, while Cassandra sat with hands dropped passively in her lap, her body leaning a little forward, straight and poised as if to move more rapidly along, her red lips parted as if listening and waiting, and her eyes courteously turning toward the places and objects pointed out to her, yet neither seeing nor hearing, except vaguely.
Presently becoming aware that the chatter was about the family at Daneshead Castle, her interest suddenly awoke. About the old lord—how vast his possessions—how ancient the family—how neglected the castle had been ever since Lady Thryng's death,—everything allowed to run down, even though they were so vastly rich—how different everything was now the parsimonious old lord was dead and the new lord had come in, and there were once more ladies in the family—what a time since there had been a Lady Thryng at Daneshead—how much Lady Laura was like her cousin Lyon—how reckless she would be if her mother did not hold her with a firm hand—and so the chatter ran on.
The girl enjoyed the distinction of knowing all about the great