Lady Fawn was not clear-headed; she was not clever; nor was she even always rational. But she was essentially honest. She knew that she would fly at anybody who should in her presence say such bitter things of any of her children as Lord Fawn had said of Mr. Greystock in Lucy's hearing;—and she knew also that Lucy was entitled to hold Mr. Greystock as dearly as she held her own sons and daughters. Lord Fawn, at Fawn Court, could not do wrong. That was a tenet by which she was obliged to hold fast. And yet Lucy had been subjected to great cruelty. She thought awhile for a valid argument. "My dear," she said, "your youth should make a difference."
"Of course it should."
"And though to me and to the girls you are as dear as any friend can be, and may say just what you please— Indeed, we all live here in such a way that we all do say just what we please,—young and old together. But you ought to know that Lord Fawn is different."
"Ought he to say that Mr. Greystock is not a gentleman to me?"
"We are, of course, very sorry that there should be any quarrel. It is all the fault of that—nasty, false young woman."
"So it is, Lady Fawn. Lady Fawn, I have been thinking about it all the day, and I am quite sure that I had better not stay here while you and the girls think badly of Mr. Greystock. It is not only about Lord Fawn, but because of the whole thing. I am always wanting to say something good about Mr. Greystock, and you are always thinking something bad about him. You have been to me,—oh, the very best friend that a girl ever had. Why you should have treated me so generously I never could know."
"Because we have loved you."
"But when a girl has got a man whom she loves, and has promised to marry, he must be her best friend of all. Is it not so, Lady Fawn?" The old woman stooped down and kissed the girl who had got the man. "It is not ingratitude to you that makes me think most of him; is it?"
"Certainly not, dear."
"Then I had better go away."