After a little battle on this, an old subject of dispute between us, we fell into talk on other topics, and I soon perceived that my charming hostess was not in her usual spirits.

“But what’s the matter, my dear Mrs. Talbot? You say that all friends are well; and I see that the flowers are prosperous in spite of my lecture; and the pets,—pussy purring on the sofa, the swans sailing on the water, and the pied peacock tapping the window at this very moment;—the pets are flourishing like the flowers. What can have happened to vex you?”

“Enough to have disturbed the patience of Grisildis herself, if Grisildis had ever known the comfort of a favourite waiting-maid. Laurette has given me warning.”

“Laurette! Is it possible? The paragon of filles de chambre! the princess of milliners! the very queen of the toilet! Laurette, so dexterous, so handy, she that could do not only all that was possible to waiting- women, but all that was impossible! and so attached, too! what can be the cause? who can have stolen her from you?”

“She’s going to be married!”

“To whom?”

“Heaven knows! she would not tell me his name, but described him as ‘un brave garçon.’ Somebody in the village, I fancy! some lout of a farmer, or bumpkin of a carpenter. She that cannot speak three words of English, and is as unfit for a farmer’s wife as I am. To think of my losing Laurette!”

At this point of our dialogue, Master Adam Stokes was announced, and we adjourned into the hall to admire the fish and talk to the fisherman. There stood Adam, cap in hand, more shaggy and ragged than ever, exulting over his enormous fish, and backed by his adherents, Ned and Neptune; whilst the airy Frenchwoman, tricked out as usual in her silk gown, her embroidered apron, her high comb, and her large ear-rings, stood against a marble table, arranging the violets which Ned had brought in a small china cup. I must go to her own language for words to describe the favourite French maid—gentille et jolie seem expressly made for her, and as she stood with an air of consciousness quite unusual to her manner, placing the violets topsy-turvy in her confusion, I thought that I had never seen Laurette half so attractive. Her lady took no notice of her, but remained in gracious colloquy with the fisherman. At last she turned towards the drawing-room.

“If you please, ma’am,” said Adam, “I’d be greatly obliged to you, if you’d speak a good word for me to his honour.” And there he stopped.

“What about, Adam?” inquired Mrs. Talbot, returning to the middle of the hall.

“About my marrying, ma’am; if so be the colonel has no objection”; continued Adam, twirling his cap.

“Marrying!” rejoined Mrs. Talbot; “all the world seems thinking of marrying! who is the fair lady, Adam,—Nanny Sims?”

“Nanny Sims! not she, indeed, ma’am,” resumed Master Stokes. “I don’t know who would trouble their heads about such an old hulk, when they might be master of such a tight-made vessel as this!” quoth the fisherman, grinning and jerking his head, and clutching the gown of the pretty Frenchwoman, whilst his faithful adherents, Ned and Neptune, grinned, and jerked, and wagged head and tail in unison.

“Laurette! do you mean Laurette?—you who hate the French, and she who can’t speak English!”

“A fig for her lingo, ma’am. Look what a tight little frigate ’tis! A fig for her lingo!”