The Vicomte laughed and shrugged his shoulders expressively.
“Ah, Madame, I wish I were qualified to be her teacher. The education of American young ladies is truly extraordinary.”
“I was about to tell Monsieur de Toqueville,” put in Honora, wickedly, “that he must see your Institution as soon as possible, and the work your girls are doing.”
“Madame,” said the Vicomte, after a scarcely perceptible pause, “I await my opportunity and your kindness.”
“I will take you to-morrow,” said Mrs. Holt.
At this instant a sound closely resembling a sneeze caused them to turn. Mr. Spence, with his handkerchief to his mouth, had his back turned to them, and was studiously regarding the bookcases.
After Honora had gone upstairs for the night she opened her door in response to a knock, to find Mrs. Holt on the threshold.
“My dear,” said that lady, “I feel that I must say a word to you. I suppose you realize that you are attractive to men.”
“Oh, Mrs. Holt.”
“You're no fool, my dear, and it goes without saying that you-do realize it—in the most innocent way, of course. But you have had no experience in life. Mind you, I don't say that the Vicomte de Toqueville isn't very much of a gentleman, but the French ideas about the relations of young men and young women are quite different and, I regret to say, less innocent than ours. I have no reason to believe that the Vicomte has come to this country to—to mend his fortunes. I know nothing about his property. But my sense of responsibility towards you has led me to tell him that you have no dot, for you somehow manage to give the impression of a young woman of fortune. Not purposely, my dear—I did not mean that.” Mrs. Holt tapped gently Honora's flaming cheek. “I merely felt it my duty to drop you a word of warning against Monsieur de Toqueville—because he is a Frenchman.”