Another deep courtesy was the reply.
“There, that will do,” said Lady Dorothea, angrily; for any attempt to provoke seemed an utter failure. “I think I have nothing more to say. When I shall see your mother I can explain more fully to her. Good-morning.”
“I wish your Ladyship good-morning,” said the girl, with a deep obeisance, and in a voice of perfect deference, while she retired towards the door. Before she had reached it, however, Lady Dorothea again addressed her.
“You forgot, I think, to tell me why you left the Duchesse de Luygnes?”
“I left on the marriage of the Princess, my Lady.”
“Oh, I remember; she married a Russian, I think.”
“No, my Lady; she married the Duc de Mirecourt, French Ambassador at St. Petersburg.”
“Ah, to be sure. I knew there was something Russian about it. And so they sent you away then?”
“The Duchess most kindly invited me to accompany her, my Lady, but my father desired I should return to Ireland.”
“And very properly,” said Lady Dorothea; “he took a most just view of the case; your position would only have exposed you to great perils. I'm sure you are not of my opinion, for distrust of yourself does not appear one of your failings.”—It is possible that this ungenerous remark was evoked by a very slight curl of the young girl's lip, and which, faint as it was, did not escape her Ladyship's keen glances.—“Good-morning.”