Perhaps I may as well begin this book by telling how I came to write it at all. Lady Corbet, my mistress (I suppose I ought to say mine "honored" mistress, but I sha'n't: I am going to have the comfort of speaking my mind in these pages, if nowhere else). But to begin again, in a more orderly fashion. Lady Corbet, with whom I am living as waiting-gentlewoman, companion, and general butt for ill-humors,—there I go again,—well, Lady Corbet took it in her head to give me the use of this cabinet. She was making a tour of inspection of the whole house to which we have just removed, and had been put into a better humor than was usual with her so early in the day by finding in this very cabinet a purse with three gold pieces and some silver, left here I suppose by Sir Charles's first wife,— poor, pretty Lady Jemima, whose portrait by Lely hangs in the great parlor. My lady clutched the purse as a dog snaps at a bone, and dropped it into her pocket. Then she took up a knot or favor of rose-colored ribbon spangled with silver which lay beside it, still fresh and pretty, and smelling of roses like every thing else in the cabinet. "See there, child!" said she, turning to me. "The poor bedizened thing had to leave all her finery and fallals behind her when she went to the grave. There is a lesson for you." "And her money also, madam," said Mrs. Williams, her woman, who had followed us with a light cloak which she laid about Lady Corbet's shoulders. Mrs. Williams is not afraid of my lady, as I am. But then, she can leave when she pleases. "What do yo you mean, Williams?" asked my lady. "Of course I know that. We must leave every thing behind us when we die. You have heard me say that a thousand times." "Not quite every thing," said Mrs. Williams. "I think, my lady, this would be a good room for Mrs. Dolly. It is not near enough for her to disturb you, and yet she can hear when you whistle." My heart jumped at this proposal, but, knowing my lady, I was careful not to show any pleasure. On the contrary, when Mrs. Williams appealed to me, I answered, "It would do well enough, I supposed." "Well enough! Yes, I think it will do well enough and too well for a chit like you, since it has served an earl's daughter in its time," said my lady tartly. "You shall have this room, and no other, do you hear? And you can have this cabinet to keep your finery in." "Yes, I have so much finery!" I could not help saying. "Oh, you are not so badly off as all that!" answered my lady. "One would think you had not clothes to your back!" "Mrs. Dolly will need some new gowns, my lady," said Mrs. Williams. "I had better buy her a camlet for Sundays, and some stuff for every day." "Nonsense! You can make over my gray camlet for her, if she needs it. However, I don't mind for once. Here, child, is a guinea for you, and mind you take care of it. You were best let Williams buy your gowns, however. There, I won't go any farther to-day. Tell Jeremy to bring your mail up here, and you can be putting your things in order while I am resting. But don't disturb me with your noise, and be ready to read to me when I wake." This conversation took place the day before yesterday, on which day my Lady Corbet removed from her own house, where she has lived ever since she became a widow, to this which was the mansion of her late husband, Sir Charles Corbet. She has never been here before since his death, but has lived in her own house in the city. But the land having become valuable, and this house standing empty, she all at once made up her mind to remove. The house was already furnished, so it was no great trouble.
