“Then by all means write and say 'Come,'” cried the baronet; “and why not let her have Belcomb rent free? I dare say she would not mind our having our picnics there occasionally; and it is really no loss to me, for I don't believe anybody but herself would dream of taking it, except in the shooting season.”
“Then that is arranged,” answered my Lady joyfully. “I am to write by return of post,” she says ; “and if the letter says 'Yes,' that then we may expect her any day. She will bring her own French maid; and I will drive over to-day, and arrange about old Rachel and her husband, who, of course, must be no losers, if they have to leave. That must be Madame's own affair, if she is really to have the place for nothing. See how affectionately the dear old lady writes, and what a capital hand, considering her advanced age!”
“Yes, indeed,” said Sir Richard, elevating his eyebrows: “only, to say the truth, I am not good at French manuscript——”
“Although a master of that language, when in printed books,” interrupted Letty.
“Well, the fact is they didn't teach that sort of thing at Eton in my time,” answered the baronet frankly; “or, at all events, they didn't teach me. However, French is not so bad as German, that I will say. One can pronounce it without speaking from the pit of one's stomach.”
“Yes, one can—after a fashion,” laughed Letty a little scornfully; but her elder brother seemed resolved to take all her bantering in good part that morning, as the imperial lion will sometimes tolerate the gambols of a companion kitten. “I don't think, however,” she continued, “Madame de Castellan, who comes from Paris, will quite understand you, Richard.—How nicely she speaks of Mary, mamma. Why, how comes she to know so much about her?”
“Why, when I went to Dijon, before my marriage, Mary Forest went with me, you know, and remained there several years.”
“Ah, yes, of course; I had forgotten.”
“And when we were at the—the college,” continued my Lady, with a slight tinge of colour, “Madame took pity upon us both, being foreigners, and was kind to us beyond all measure. Many a happy day have we passed in her pretty chateau together; and indeed I think I owe my Parisian pronunciation—of which you seem to make so much, Letty—at least as much to Madame de Castellan as to my paid teachers. She never could speak English, if you remember, Richard; everything she addressed to you had to be translated.”
“Dear me,” answered the baronet hastily, “I don't like that. I hope she has learned English since then. It places one in a very humiliating position to be talked to in a language one does not understand; unless you can treat the person as a savage, which, to say the truth, I always feel inclined to do.”