“I was afraid you might mean me, my Lady,” said the pretty girl.

“I did mean you, child,” replied her mistress calmly.  “Put that shawl on me.”

She slightly stooped her shoulders to receive it, and the pretty girl lightly dropped it in its place.  The Frenchwoman stood unnoticed, looking on with her lips very tightly set.

“I am sorry,” said Lady Dedlock to Mr. Jarndyce, “that we are not likely to renew our former acquaintance.  You will allow me to send the carriage back for your two wards.  It shall be here directly.”

But as he would on no account accept this offer, she took a graceful leave of Ada—­none of me—­and put her hand upon his proffered arm, and got into the carriage, which was a little, low, park carriage with a hood.

“Come in, child,” she said to the pretty girl; “I shall want you.  Go on!”

The carriage rolled away, and the Frenchwoman, with the wrappers she had brought hanging over her arm, remained standing where she had alighted.

I suppose there is nothing pride can so little bear with as pride itself, and that she was punished for her imperious manner.  Her retaliation was the most singular I could have imagined.  She remained perfectly still until the carriage had turned into the drive, and then, without the least discomposure of countenance, slipped off her shoes, left them on the ground, and walked deliberately in the same direction through the wettest of the wet grass.

“Is that young woman mad?” said my guardian.

“Oh, no, sir!” said the keeper, who, with his wife, was looking after her.  “Hortense is not one of that sort.  She has as good a head-piece as the best.  But she’s mortal high and passionate—­ powerful high and passionate; and what with having notice to leave, and having others put above her, she don’t take kindly to it.”

“But why should she walk shoeless through all that water?” said my guardian.

“Why, indeed, sir, unless it is to cool her down!” said the man.

“Or unless she fancies it’s blood,” said the woman.  “She’d as soon walk through that as anything else, I think, when her own’s up!”

We passed not far from the house a few minutes afterwards.  Peaceful as it had looked when we first saw it, it looked even more so now, with a diamond spray glittering all about it, a light wind blowing, the birds no longer hushed but singing strongly, everything refreshed by the late rain, and the little carriage shining at the doorway like a fairy carriage made of silver.  Still, very steadfastly and quietly walking towards it, a peaceful figure too in the landscape, went Mademoiselle Hortense, shoeless, through the wet grass.

CHAPTER XIX

Moving On