“Did you read Mr. Greystock’s speech, Miss Morris?” asked Lord Fawn.
“Every word of it, in the Times.”
“And you understood his allusion to what I had been called upon to say in the House of Lords on behalf of the Government?”
“I suppose I did. It did not seem to be difficult to understand.”
“I do think Mr. Greystock should have abstained from attacking Frederic,” said Augusta.
“It was not—not quite the thing that we are accustomed to,” said Lord Fawn.
“Of course I don’t know about that,” said Lucy. “I think the prince is being used very ill—that he is being deprived of his own property—that he is kept out of his rights, just because he is weak, and I am very glad that there is someone to speak up for him.”
“My dear Lucy,” said Lady Fawn, “if you discuss politics with Lord Fawn, you’ll get the worst of it.”
“I don’t at all object to Miss Morris’s views about the Sawab,” said the Undersecretary generously. “There is a great deal to be said on both sides. I know of old that Miss Morris is a great friend of the Sawab.”
“You used to be his friend too,” said Lucy.
“I felt for him—and do feel for him. All that is very well. I ask no one to agree with me on the question itself. I only say that Mr. Greystock’s mode of treating it was unbecoming.”
“I think it was the very best speech I ever read in my life,” said Lucy, with headlong energy and heightened colour.
“Then, Miss Morris, you and I have very different opinions about speeches,” said Lord Fawn, with severity. “You have, probably, never read Burke’s speeches.”
“And I don’t want to read them,” said Lucy.
“That is another question,” said Lord Fawn; and his tone and manner were very severe indeed.
“We are talking about speeches in Parliament,” said Lucy. Poor Lucy! She knew quite as well as did Lord Fawn that Burke had been a House of Commons orator; but in her impatience, and from absence of the habit of argument, she omitted to explain that she was talking about the speeches of the day.
Lord Fawn held up his hands, and put his head a little on one side. “My dear Lucy,” said Lady Fawn, “you are showing your ignorance. Where do you suppose that Mr. Burke’s speeches were made?”
“Of course I know they were made in Parliament,” said Lucy, almost in tears.
“If Miss Morris means that Burke’s greatest efforts were not made in Parliament—that his speech to the electors of Bristol, for instance, and his opening address on the trial of Warren Hastings, were, upon the whole, superior to—”
“I didn’t mean anything at all,” said Lucy.
“Lord Fawn is trying to help you, my dear,” said Lady Fawn.
“I don’t want to be helped,” said Lucy. “I only mean that I thought Mr. Greystock’s speech as good as it could possibly be. There wasn’t a word in it that didn’t seem to me to be just what it ought to be. I do think that they are ill-treating that poor Indian prince, and I am very glad that somebody has had the courage to get up and say so.”
No doubt it would have been better that Lucy should have held her tongue. Had she simply been upholding against an opponent a political speaker whose speech she had read with pleasure, she might have held her own in the argument against the whole Fawn family. She was a favourite with them all, and even the Undersecretary would not have been hard upon her. But there had been more than this for poor Lucy to do. Her heart was so truly concerned in the matter, that she could not refrain herself from resenting an attack on the man she loved. She had allowed herself to be carried into superlatives, and had almost been uncourteous to Lord Fawn. “My dear,” said Lady Fawn, “we won’t say anything more upon the subject.” Lord Fawn took up a book. Lady Fawn busied herself in her knitting. Lydia assumed a look of unhappiness, as though something very sad had occurred. Augusta addressed a question to her brother in a tone which plainly indicated a feeling on her part that her brother had been ill-used and was entitled to special consideration. Lucy sat silent and still, and then left the room with a hurried step. Lydia at once rose to follow her, but was stopped by her mother. “You had better leave her alone just at present, my dear,” said Lady Fawn.
“I did not know that Miss Morris was so particularly interested in Mr. Greystock,” said Lord Fawn.
“She has known him since she was a child,” said his mother.
About an hour afterwards Lady Fawn went upstairs and found Lucy sitting all alone in the still so-called schoolroom. She had no candle, and had made no pretence to do anything since she had left the room downstairs. In the interval family prayers had been read, and Lucy’s absence was unusual and contrary to rule. “Lucy, my dear, why are you sitting here?” said Lady Fawn.
“Because I am unhappy.”
“What makes you unhappy, Lucy?”
“I don’t know. I would rather you didn’t ask me. I suppose I behaved badly downstairs.”
“My son would forgive you in a moment if you asked him.”
“No;—certainly not. I can beg your pardon, Lady Fawn, but not his. Of course I had no right
