One of the expedients of well-born Huguenot refugees had been tuition, and Madame d’Elmar had made here boarding-school so popular and fashionable that a second generation still maintained its fame, and damsels of the highest rank were sent there to learn French, to play the spinnet, to embroider, to dance, and to get into a carriage with grace.  It was only countrified misses, bred by old-fashioned scholars, who attempted to go any farther, such as that lusus naturae, Miss Elizabeth Carter, who knew seven languages, or the Bishop of Oxford’s niece, Catherine Talbot, who even painted natural flowers and wrote meditations!  The education Aurelia Delavie had received over her Homer and Racine would be smiled at as quite superfluous.

There was no difficulty about admission.  The coach with its Belamour trappings was a warrant of admittance.  The father and daughter were shown into a parlour with a print of Marshal Schomberg over the mantelpiece, and wonderful performances in tapestry work and embroidery on every available chair, as well as framed upon the wainscoted walls.

A little lady, more French than English, moving like a perfectly wound up piece of mechanism, all but her bright little eyes, appeared at their request to see Madame.  It had been agreed before-hand that the Major should betray neither doubt nor difficulty, but simply say that he had come up from the country and wished to see his daughter.

Madame, in perfectly good English, excused herself, but begged to hear the name again.

There must be some error, no young lady of the name of Delavie was there.

They looked at one another, then Betty asked, “Has not a young lady been placed here by Lady Belamour?”

“No, madam, Lady Belamour once requested me to receive her twin daughters, but they were mere infants; I receive none under twelve year old.”

“My good lady,” cried the Major, “if you are denying my daughter to me, pray consider what you are doing.  I am her own father, and whatever Lady Belamour may tell you, I can enforce my claim.”

“I am not in the habit of having my word doubted, sir,” and the little lady drew herself up like a true Gascon baroness, as she was.

“Madam, forgive me, I am in terrible perplexity and distress.  My poor child, who was under Lady Belamour’s charge, has been lost to us these three weeks or more, and we have been told that she has been seen here.”

“Thus,” said Betty, seeing that the lady still needed to be appeased, “we thought Lady Belamour might have deceived you as well as others.”

“May I ask who said the young lady had been seen here?” asked the mistress coldly.

“It was Lady Arabella Mar,” said Betty, “and, justly speaking, I believe she did not say it was here that my poor sister was seen, but that she had seen her, and we drew the conclusion that it was here.”

“My Lady Arabella Mar is too often taken out by my Lady Countess,” said Madame d’Elmar.