"Thank Heaven, not yours!" growled the Squire, heard only by Isabella.
"My husband was married twice," pursued the visitor, unconscious of his rising anger. "His first wife was an Englishwoman—short, I suppose, and brown, like this girl. I am the second wife, née Mademoiselle de La Croix, daughter of Monsieur the Marquis de La Croix. Tu peux m'embrasser ma fille."
Celia would have obeyed somewhat reluctantly, had she understood her step-mother. She stood still, unaware that she had been addressed at all, since she had never learned the language in which Lady Ingram had spoken to her.
"Well, you will not?"
"I beg your pardon, Madam," answered Celia, speaking for the first time, and in a very tremulous voice. "I did not understand what you said."
"You speak French?"
"No, Madam."
"Possible!" exclaimed Lady Ingram. "You have never taught her to speak French? She speaks only English? Ma foi, quelle famille!"
"I could scarce teach her what I knew not," replied Madam Passmore, with quiet dignity.
"C'est incroyable!" drawled Lady Ingram, "Well, child, come here and kiss me. How awkwardly you stoop! Your carriage is bad—very bad. Ah, well! I shall see to all that. You will be ready to return with me on Thursday?"