“I fear nothing, my girl, except foolish unseen interference; interference that may not be struck at or even hinted against. Did they teach you the history of France in your school?”
“No, my lord.”
“Then study it as you grow older; I’ll warrant you’ll find it interesting enough. Ruined by women. Ruined by women. Seven civil wars in seventeen years, and all because of viperish, brainless women. Well, we have one of the breed here in England, and God help us!”
“You mean the Queen, my lord?”
“Hush! Curses on it, will you be as outspoken as another of your sex is spiteful and subtle? Mend your manners, hussy, and guard your tongue. Could you not see you spoke too freely to the King a moment since?”
“Sir, I am sorry.”
“Be not sorry, but cautious.”
Strafford fell into a reverie, and there was silence in the room until the servant entered and announced that the coach was ready, whereupon his master rose unsteadily.
“Sir,” said the girl, “will you not eat or drink before you depart?”
“No.” Then, looking sharply at his daughter, he inquired, “Are you hungry?”