But her feelings were much more acute when she came to perceive that she had damaged her own affairs by the hint of a menace which she had thrown out.  Business is business, and must take precedence of all sentiment and romance in this hard world in which bread is so necessary.  Of that Madam Gordeloup was well aware.  And therefore, having given herself but two short minutes to weep over her Julie’s hardness, she applied her mind at once to the rectification of the error she had made.  Yes, she had been wrong about the lawyer—­certainly wrong.  But then these English people were so pig-headed!  A slight suspicion of a hint, such as that she had made, would have been taken by a Frenchman, by a Russian, by a Pole, as meaning no more than it meant.  “But these English are bulls the men and the women are all like bulls—­bulls!”

She at once sat down and wrote another letter—­another in such an ecstasy of eagerness to remove the evil impressions which she had made, that she wrote it almost with the natural effusions of her heart: 

Dear friend:—­Your coldness kills me—­kills me!  But perhaps I have deserved it.  If I said there were legal demands I did deserve it.  No, there are none.  Legal demands!  Oh, no.  What can your poor friend demand legally?  The lawyer—­he knows nothing; he was a stranger.  It was my brother spoke to him.  What should I do with a lawyer?  Oh, my friend, do not be angry with your poor servant.  I write now not to ask for money, but for a kind word—­for one word of kindness and love to your Sophie before she have gone forever—­yes, forever.  Oh, Julie—­oh, my angel, I would lie at your feet and kiss them if you were here.

    Yours till death, even though you should still be hard to me,

    Sophie.

To this appeal Lady Ongar sent no direct answer, but she commissioned Mr. Turnbull, her lawyer, to call upon Madam Gordeloup and pay to that lady one hundred pounds, taking her receipt for the same.  Lady Ongar, in her letter to the lawyer, explained that the woman in question had been useful in Florence, and explained also that she might pretend that she had further claims.  “If so,” said Lady Ongar, “I wish you to tell her that she can prosecute them at law, if she pleases.  The money I now give her is a gratuity made for certain services rendered in Florence during the illness of Lord Ongar.”  This commission Mr. Turnbull executed, and Sophie Gordeloup, when taking the money, made no demand for any further payment.

Four days after this a little woman, carrying a very big bandbox in her hands, might have been seen to scramble with difficulty out of a boat in the Thames up the side of a steamer bound from thence for Boulogne; and after her there climbed up an active little man, who, with peremptory voice, repulsed the boatman’s demand for further payment.  He also had a bandbox on his arm, belonging, no doubt, to the little woman.  And it might have been seen that the active little man, making his way to the table at which the clerk of the boat was sitting, out of his own purse paid the passage-money for two passengers through to Paris.  And the head, and legs, and neck of that little man were like to the head, and legs, and neck of—­our friend Doodles, alias Captain Boodle, of Warwickshire.