Really? My lord was always so to ladies, the
most polite, the most courteous." I had a mind
to be high with her, and walk home alone, and
let her take care of her schoolfellow herself;
but she has a way with her, has Pet, that, let
you be ever so put out with her, suddenly she
begins her coaxing ways, and you find yourself
loving her more than ever.

After the marquis's fourth visit, I thought
I ought to warn Robert.

"Pooh," said Robert; "he is naturally as
impatient as I am to see my patent doors hung;
and all I have got to say is, Patty, that Job
escaped one misery which besets me:—he never
had to deal with country workpeople."

When Robert is vexed, 'tis best not to worry
him, as he says things—even to quoting
Scripture—that he would not say at other times. For
he is a most religious man. When I think of
his prayer at the time he thought I was dying
—but no more about that. Everybody must
see what a really good man Robert is. And
indeed the workpeople were most provoking
about the patent doors.

However, at last they were hung, and it may
readily be conceived what were Robert's feelings
when he rushed into the room where the mar-
quis was, as usual, reading French poetry to
Viola, exclaiming, " All right, they are hung,
and at last you shall be satisfied, my lord."

"What are hung?" said my lord.

"The doors."

"The a——"

"The barn doors, my lord."

Very slowly came the remembrance of the
patent hanging barn doors to the mind of the
marquis; so slowly, that Robert saw I was right
and he was wrong. But the natural courtesy
so inherent in the young lord's nature made
him try to cover his mistake by an alacrity that
did not deceive Robert, and made me remember
his other little hypocrisy.

"Patty," said Robert to me that night, "I
must write to the duke; I ought not to
countenance this clandestine affair."

"I am afraid—oh, dear me, how sorry I am—
I am afraid you must, Robert."

"The poor little thing," continued Robert,
"is quite altered; a lovable child, and more
lovely than anything we shall ever see again,
Patty, but she has lost her colour; a moustache
is coming, and in another month we shall see
symptoms of the beard I said she would
have."

"Oh, Robert! but indeed she is altered.
She lays her head on my shoulder, and sighs
so, and she is always saying to me, 'Aimez
moi, my mère Pattie,' and I say to her——"

"You need not tell me, Patty. I overheard
your answer in such a jargon as ' très immencement
—bien prodigieusely,' and various strange
words of a most energetic character, that
could only have been coined by my impulsive
wife."

"Oh, Robert, how can you laugh? In my
hurry I do say odd words just to satisfy her; but,
when I have time, I speak excellent French to
her; and, oh! Robert, only think, she cannot
say more English than when she came. We
must give up the three hundred pounds, and
we shall be in debt."

"In debt or not, I must write—— No; I
will go and see the duke." I thought this
quite proper of him, because one can hint
things speaking that it is quite impossible to do
writing.

He had not been gone more than half an hour
when Mrs. Mountjoy called.

"Are you aware, my dear Patty, that often
as the young marquis comes to your house
openly, he does so twice as often secretly?"

"How do you mean?" I exclaimed, my brain
seeming all in a whirl.

"He comes in a boat to the bottom of your
garden."

Gracious goodness! I have boasted that in
a case of great emergency I always rise to the
occasion. Let me confess, that this time I
was mentally knocked down, unable to rise again.
This paragon, this preux chevalier, this son of
a fortunate mother, this dear darling of a
man, was a demon in disguise. His beautiful
gentle eyes, his soft low voice, his courtesy, his
goodness. Altogether this young marquis, whom
I could not help loving, was a wretch to be hated.
Did I not know he was a hypocrite? And I
so determinately blind.

"Do you not also see a great difference in
your lovely guest?" continued Mrs. Mountjoy.

"Yes, she is pale and sad."

"I—I mean—Patty—surely, Patty—can-
not you understand what i mean? Six
months ago, when she first came here, she
was, if anything, too slight."

Oh, my goodness gracious me! where was
I? Where was Robert? To happen to me,
a sort of prudish old maid, who kept her
house so strict! Oh, gracious Heavens! what
dreadful things are these French girls!—
all alike. Perhaps the countess was the very
one, or sister to the one, that eloped. But she
hadn't a sister; where was my mind? Could it
be my wits were going? Was my brain topsy-
turvy? But I must not let Mrs. Mountjoy
see—goodness me—no. "Stick fast to the
honour of your sex, Patty," I said to myself;
"don't give way an inch—be high. Send Mrs.
Mountjoy off with a grand high mightiness—a
lofty scorn." Did I do it, I wonder? I do
not know, but I hope I was high.

What was I to do? And as I thought, the
naughty, wicked, good-for-nothing little thing
came creeping in, and I saw—oh yes—I saw
quite enough; and she saw too, that I saw.
She came and laid her head just where my child
(now with angel wings) was to have laid, and
said, "Aimez moi—aimez moi—ma mère
Pattie." And upon my word, if I did not find
myself saying, " Oui, oui, oui, ma petite, aimez
vous beaucoup, aimez vous ever so much,
aimez vous prodigieusement." The greatest
astonishment of all to me was, that I meant
all I said, and I found myself scolding myself.