; then he added more gravely, "I
can't construe French like you. I suppose you just open it and go
straight on?"

"I do," said Lady Randolph, with a smile.

She was mollified, for her French was excellent, and she liked a little
compliment, of whatever kind.

"You should give your mind to it; it is the most useful of all
languages," she said.

"And Lucy is not great at it either," said Jock.

"That is true, and it is a pity," said Lady Randolph, quite restored to
good-humour. "I would take her in hand myself, but I have so many things
to do. Do you know where she is, for I have not seen her all this
morning?"

"No more have I," said Jock. "I think they have just gone off somewhere
together. Lucy never minds. She ought to pay a little attention when
there are people in the house."

"That is just what I have been thinking," Lady Randolph said. "I am at
home, of course, here; it does not matter for me, and you are her
brother--but she really ought; I think I must speak seriously to her."

"To whom are you going to speak seriously? I hope not to me, my dear
aunt," said Sir Tom, coming in. He did not look quite his usual self. He
was a little pale, and he had an air about him as of some disagreeable
surprise. He had the post-bag in his hand--for there was a post twice a
day--and opened it as he spoke. Lady Randolph, with her quick
perception, saw at once that something had happened, and jumped at the
idea of a first quarrel. It was generally the butler Williams who opened
the letter-bag; but he was out of the way, and Sir Tom had taken the
office on himself. He took out the contents with a little impatience,
throwing across to her her share of the correspondence. "Hallo," he
said. "Here is a letter for Lucy from your tutor, Jock. What have you
been doing, my young man?"

"Oh, I know what it's about," Jock said in a tone of satisfaction. Sir
Tom turned round and looked at him with the letter in his hand, as if he
would have liked to throw it at his head.

CHAPTER XIV.

AN UNWILLING MARTYR.

Lucy came into the morning-room shortly after, a little paler than
usual, but with none of the agitation about her which Lady Randolph
expected from Sir Tom's aspect to see. Lucy was not one to bear any
outward traces of emotion. When she wept her eyes recovered rapidly, and
after half an hour were no longer red. She had a quiet respect for other
people, and a determination not to betray anything which she could not