“But, Lucy, people never accuse each other of untruth. No lady should use such a word to a gentleman.”
“He should not have said so. He knows that Mr. Greystock is more to me than all the world.”
“If I had a lover,” said Nina, “and anybody were to say a word against him, I know I’d fly at them. I don’t know why Frederic is to have it all his own way.”
“Nina, you’re a fool,” said Diana.
“I do think it was very hard for Lucy to bear,” said Lydia.
“And I won’t bear it!” exclaimed Lucy. “To think that Mr. Greystock should be so mean as to bear malice about a thing like that wild Indian because he takes his own cousin’s part! Of course I’d better go away. You all think that Mr. Greystock is an enemy now; but he never can be an enemy to me.”
“We think that Lady Eustace is an enemy,” said Cecilia, “and a very nasty enemy, too.”
“I did not say a word about Lady Eustace,” said Lucy. “But Mr. Greystock is a gentleman.”
About an hour after this Lady Fawn sent for Lucy, and the two were closeted together for a long time. Lord Fawn was very angry, and had hitherto altogether declined to overlook the insult offered. “I am bound to tell you,” declared Lady Fawn, with much emphasis, “that nothing can justify you in having accused Lord Fawn of telling an untruth. Of course, I was sorry that Mr. Greystock’s name should have been mentioned in your presence; but as it was mentioned, you should have borne what was said with patience.”
“I couldn’t be patient, Lady Fawn.”
“That is what wicked people say when they commit murder, and then they are hung for it.”
“I’ll go away, Lady Fawn—”
“That is ungrateful, my dear. You know that I don’t wish you to go away. But if you behave badly, of course I must tell you of it.”
“I’d sooner go away. Everybody here thinks ill of Mr. Greystock. But I don’t think ill of Mr. Greystock, and I never shall. Why did Lord Fawn say such very hard things about him?”
It was suggested to her that she should be downstairs early the next morning, and apologise to Lord Fawn for her rudeness; but she would not, on that night, undertake to do any such thing. Let Lady Fawn say what she might, Lucy thought that the injury had been done to her, and not to his lordship. And so they parted hardly friends. Lady Fawn gave her no kiss as she went, and Lucy, with obstinate pride, altogether refused to own her fault. She would only say that she had better go, and when Lady Fawn over and over again pointed out to her that the last thing that such a one as Lord Fawn could bear was to be accused of an untruth, she would continue to say that in that case he should be careful to say nothing that was untrue. All this was very dreadful, and created great confusion and unhappiness at Fawn Court. Lydia came into her room that night, and the two girls talked the matter over for hours. In the morning Lucy was up early, and found Lord Fawn walking in the grounds. She had been told that he would probably be found walking in the grounds, if she were willing to tender to him any apology.
Her mind had been very full of the subject—not only in reference to her lover, but as it regarded her own conduct. One of the elder Fawn girls had assured her that under no circumstances could a lady be justified in telling a gentleman that he had spoken an untruth, and she was not quite sure but that the law so laid down was right. And then she could not but remember that the gentleman in question was Lord Fawn, and that she was Lady Fawn’s governess. But Mr. Greystock was her affianced lover, and her first duty was to him. And then, granting that she herself had been wrong in accusing Lord Fawn of untruth, she could not refrain from asking herself whether he had not been much more wrong in saying in her hearing that Mr. Greystock was not a gentleman? And his offence had preceded her offence, and had caused it! She hardly knew whether she did or did not owe an apology to Lord Fawn, but she was quite sure that Lord Fawn owed an apology to her.
She walked straight up to Lord Fawn, and met him beneath the trees. He was still black and solemn, and was evidently brooding over his grievance; but he bowed to her, and stood still as she approached him. “My lord,” said she, “I am very sorry for what happened last night.”
“And so was I—very sorry, Miss Morris.”
“I think you know that I am engaged to marry Mr. Greystock?”
“I cannot allow that that has anything to do with it.”
“When you think that he must be dearer to me than all the world, you will acknowledge that I couldn’t hear hard things said of him without speaking.” His face became blacker than ever, but he made no reply. He wanted an abject begging of unconditional pardon from the little girl who loved his enemy. If that were done, he would vouchsafe his forgiveness; but he was too small by nature to grant it on other terms. “Of course,” continued Lucy, “I am bound to treat you with special respect in Lady Fawn’s house.” She looked almost beseechingly into his face as she
