Léonie regarded her reflection again.

“I think I have grown,” she said. “What will happen if I move, madame?”

“Why, what should happen?” asked Fanny, staring.

Léonie shook her head dubiously.

“I think something will burst, madame. Me perhaps.”

Fanny laughed.

“What nonsense! Why, ’tis laced so loosely that it might almost fall off you! Nay, never pick your skirts up so! Oh, heaven, child, you must not show your legs! ’Tis positively indecent!”

“Bah!” said Léonie, and, gathering up her skirts, walked carefully across the room. “Certainly I shall burst,” she sighed. “I shall tell Monseigneur that I cannot wear women’s clothes. It is as though I were in a cage.”

“Don’t say you’ll—burst—again!” implored Fanny. “’Tis a most unladylike expression.”

Léonie paused in her perambulations to and fro.

“Am I a lady?” she inquired.

“Of course you are! What else?”

The roguish dimple peeped out for the first time, and the blue eyes danced.

“Well, what now? Is it so funny?” asked Fanny, a trifle peevishly.

Léonie nodded.

“But yes, madame. And—and very perplexing.” She came back to the mirror, and bowed to her own reflection. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle de Bonnard! Peste, qu’elle est ridicule!”

“Who?” demanded Fanny.

Léonie pointed a scornful finger at herself.

“That silly creature.”

“’Tis yourself.”

“No.” said Léonie with conviction. “Never!”

“You are most provoking!” cried Fanny. “I have been at pains to dress you in my prettiest gown—yes, the very prettiest, though, to be sure, it became me not—and you say ’tis silly!”

“But no, madame. It is I who am silly. Could I not keep my breeches just for to-night?”

Fanny clapped her hands to her ears.

“I positively will not listen! Don’t dare to mention that word to Edward, I implore you!”

“Edward? Bah, what a name! Who is it?”

“My husband. A dear creature, I give you my word, but I faint to think of what he would feel an you spoke of breeches in his hearing!” Fanny gave a little gurgle of laughter. “Oh, how entertaining ’twill be to buy clothes for you! I quite love Justin for bringing you to me! And whatever will Rupert say?”

Léonie withdrew her gaze from the mirror.

“That is Monseigneur’s brother, n’est-ce pas?”

“The most provoking creature,” nodded Fanny. “Quite mad, you know. But then we Alastairs are all of us that. No doubt you have observed it?”

The big eyes twinkled.

“No, madame.”

“What! And you have—have lived with Avon for three months?” Fanny cast up her eyes. The sound of a shutting door somewhere below roused her to sudden activity. “There! That is Edward returned from White’s already! I think I will go down and—and talk to him while you rest. Poor child, I dare swear you are dreadfully fatigued?”

“N-no,” said Léonie. “But you will tell Mr. Marling that I have come, is it not so? And if he does not like it—and I do not think that he will—I can——”

“Fiddle!” said Fanny, blushing faintly. “No such thing, my love, I assure you. Edward will be enchanted! Of course he will, stupid child! A pretty thing ’twould be an I could not twist him round my finger. ’Twas only that I wanted you to rest, and indeed you shall! I vow you are nigh dropping with fatigue! Don’t try to argue with me, Léonie!”

“I am not arguing,” Léonie pointed out.

“No, well, I thought you might, and it makes me so cross! Come with me, and I will take you to your chamber.” She led Léonie to a blue guest-chamber, and sighed. “Ravishing!” she said. “I wish you were not quite so lovely. Your eyes are like those velvet curtains. I got them in Paris, my dear. Are they not exquisite? I forbid you to touch your dress while I am gone, mind!” She frowned direfully, patted Léonie’s hand, and was gone in a whirl of silks and laces, leaving Léonie alone in the middle of the room.

Léonie walked to a chair, and sat down carefully, heels together, and hands demurely clasped in her lap.

“This,” she told herself, “is not very nice, I think. Monseigneur has gone away, and I could never find him in this great, horrible London. That Fanny is a fool, I think. Or perhaps she is mad, as she said.” Léonie paused to consider the point. “Well, perhaps she is just English. And Edward will not like me to be here. Mon Dieu, I suppose he will think I am just une fille de joie. That is very possible. I wish Monseigneur had not gone.” This thought occupied her mind for some moments, and led to another. “I wonder what he will think of me when he sees me? That Fanny said I was lovely. Of course that is just silly, but I think I look a little pretty.” She rose, and planted her chair down before the mirror. She frowned upon her reflection, and shook her head. “You are not Léon: that is very certain. Only one little bit of you is Léon.” She bent forward to look at her feet, shod still in Léon’s shoes. “Hélas! Only yesterday I was Léon the page, and now I am Mademoiselle de Bonnard. And I am very uncomfortable in these clothes. I think too that I am a little frightened. There is not even M. Davenant left. I shall be forced to eat pudding, and that woman will kiss me.” She heaved a large sigh. “Life is very hard,” she remarked sadly.

CHAPTER XI

Mr. Marling’s Heart is Won

Lady Fanny found her husband in the library, standing before the fire and warming his hands. He was a medium-sized man, with regular features, and steady grey eyes. He turned as she entered the room, and held out his arms to her. Lady Fanny tripped towards him.

“Pray have a care for my gown, Edward. ’Tis new come from Cerisette. Is it not elegant?”

“Prodigious elegant,” agreed Marling. “But if it means that I must not kiss you I shall think it hideous.”

She raised china-blue eyes to his face.

“Just one then, Edward. Oh, you are greedy, sir! No, Edward, I’ll not be held. I’ve a monstrous exciting thing to tell you.” She shot him a sidelong glance, wondering how he would take her news. “Do you remember, my love, that I was so ennuyée to-day that I could almost have cried?”

“Do I not!” smiled Marling. “You were very cruel to me, sweet.”

“Oh no, Edward! I was not cruel! ’Twas you who were so very provoking. And then you went away, and I was so dull! But now it is all over, and I have something wonderful to do!”

Edward slipped an arm about her trim waist.

“Faith, what is it?”

“’Tis a girl,” she answered. “The most beautiful girl, Edward!”

“A girl?” he repeated. “What new whim is this? What do you want with a girl, my dear?”

“Oh, I didn’t want her! I never thought about her at all. How could I, when I’d not set eyes on her? Justin brought her.”

The clasp about her waist slackened.

“Justin?” said Marling. “Oh!” His voice was polite, but not enthusiastic. “I thought he was in Paris.”

“So he was, until a day or two ago, and if you are minded to be disagreeable, Edward, I shall cry. I am very fond of Justin!”

“Ay, dear. Go on with your tale. What has the girl, whoever she is, to do with Avon?”

“That is just the astonishing part of it!” said Fanny, her brow clearing as if by magic. “She is Justin’s adopted daughter! Is it not interesting, Edward?”

“What?” Marling’s arm fell away from her. “Justin’s what?”

“Adopted daughter,” she answered airily. “The sweetest child, my dear, and so devoted to him! I declare I quite love her already, although she is so lovely, and—oh, Edward, don’t be cross!”

Edward took her by the shoulders, and made her look up at him.

“Fanny, do you mean to tell me that Alastair had the effrontery to bring the girl here? And you were mad enough to take her in?”

“Indeed, sir, and why not?” she demanded. “A pretty thing ’twould be an I turned away my brother’s ward!”

“Ward!” Marling almost snorted.

“Yes, sir, his ward. Oh, I’ll not deny I thought the same as you when first I saw her, but Justin swore ’twas not so. And Edward, you know how strict Justin is with me. You can’t be cross! Why, ’tis but a child, and half a boy at that!”

“Half a boy, Fanny? What mean you?”

“She has been a boy for seven years,” said Fanny triumphantly. Then, as the lines about his mouth hardened, she stamped her foot angrily. “You’re very unkind, Edward! How dare you suppose that darling Justin would bring his light o’ love to my house? ’Tis the stupidest notion I ever heard! He wants me to chaperon the child until he can prevail upon Madam Field to come. What if she has been a boy? Pray what has that to say to anything?”

Marling smiled unwillingly.

“You must admit that for Justin to adopt a girl——”

“Edward, I truly believe that he means no ill! Léonie has been his page—Oh, now you are shocked again!”

“Well, but——”

“I won’t hear a word!” Fanny put up her hands to his mouth. “Edward, you’ll not be angry, and hard?” she coaxed. “There’s some mystery about Léonie, I feel sure, but—oh, my dear, you have only to look in her eyes! Now listen to me, dear Edward!”

He imprisoned her hands in his, drawing her to the couch.

“Very well, my dear, I’ll listen.”

Fanny seated herself.

“Dearest Edward! I knew you’d be kind! You see, Justin came here to-day with Léonie, dressed as a boy. I was so enchanted! I never imagined that Justin was in England! Oh, and he has a fan! You cannot conceive anything so absurd, dear! Though indeed I believe they are become quite the most fashion——”

“Ay, Fanny, but you were to explain about this girl—Léonie.”

“I was explaining,” she protested, pouting. “Well, he sent Léonie into another room—my dear, I think she positively worships him, poor child—and he begged me to keep her with me for a few days because he does not want there to be a shadow of scandal attached to her. And I am to clothe her, and oh, Edward, will it not be entertaining? She has red hair, and black eyebrows, and I have given her my green silk. You cannot imagine how quite too tiresomely lovely she is, though perhaps she would look better in white.”

“Never mind that, Fanny. Go on with your story.”

“To be sure. It seems that Justin found her in Paris—only then he thought she was a boy—and she was being ill-treated by some tavern-keeper. So Justin bought her and made her his page. And he says that he has a fondness for her, and will make her his ward. And oh, Edward, I have just thought how wonderfully romantic ’twould be an he married her! But she is only a child, and dreadfully boyish. Only fancy!—she insisted on keeping her breeches! Now Edward, say that you will be nice to her, and that I may keep her! Say it, Edward, say it!”

“I suppose you must keep her,” he said reluctantly. “I cannot turn her out. But I do not like it.”

Fanny embraced him.

“It doesn’t signify in the least, Edward. You will fall in love with her, and I shall be jealous.”

“There’s no fear of that, you little rogue,” he said, and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

“No, and I am so glad. And now go and put on that new puce coat. ’Tis prodigious modish, and I want you to look very nice tonight.”

“Are we not dining out?” he asked. “I thought——”

“Dining out! Good gracious, Edward, and that child a visitor, and only just arrived! No indeed!” With that she rustled out of the room, full of a new importance.

An hour later when Marling sat in the withdrawing-room awaiting his wife, the door was flung open, and Fanny sailed in. Behind her came Léonie, hesitantly. Edward rose quickly, staring.

“My love,” said Fanny, “this is my husband, Mr. Marling. Edward, Mademoiselle de Bonnard.”

Marling bowed; so also did Léonie, but paused in the act of doing so.

“I must curtsy, is it not so? Bah, what skirts!” She smiled shyly up at Edward. “Please pardon me, m’sieur. I have not learned to curtsy yet.”

“Give him your hand, child,” commanded Fanny.

The small hand was extended.

“Please, why?” asked Léonie.

Marling kissed her finger-tips punctiliously, and released them. Léonie’s cheeks were tinged with colour, and she looked doubtfully up at him.

“Mais, m’sieur”—she began.

“Mademoiselle?” In spite of himself Marling smiled.

“C’est peu convenable,” explained Léonie.

“No such thing,” said Fanny briskly. “Gentlemen do always kiss the lady’s hands. Remember that, my love. And now my husband will give you his arm to the dining-room. Lay but the tips of your fingers on it, like that. What ails you now, child?”