“And then—­”

“O, it ended in my having nothing to say, when I sat down to write.  But sometimes, when I get hold of a book, I wonder why I let such a poor reason stop me.  It does not others.”

“But I think it was very well it did, Miss Galindo,” said her ladyship.  “I am extremely against women usurping men’s employments, as they are very apt to do.  But perhaps, after all, the notion of writing a book improved your hand.  It is one of the most legible I ever saw.”

“I despise z’s without tails,” said Miss Galindo, with a good deal of gratified pride at my lady’s praise.  Presently, my lady took her to look at a curious old cabinet, which Lord Ludlow had picked up at the Hague; and while they were out of the room on this errand, I suppose the question of remuneration was settled, for I heard no more of it.

When they came back, they were talking of Mr. Gray.  Miss Galindo was unsparing in her expressions of opinion about him:  going much farther than my lady—­in her language, at least.

“A little blushing man like him, who can’t say bo to a goose without hesitating and colouring, to come to this village—­which is as good a village as ever lived—­and cry us down for a set of sinners, as if we had all committed murder and that other thing!—­I have no patience with him, my lady.  And then, how is he to help us to heaven, by teaching us our, a b, ab—­b a, ba?  And yet, by all accounts, that’s to save poor children’s souls.  O, I knew your ladyship would agree with me.  I am sure my mother was as good a creature as ever breathed the blessed air; and if she’s not gone to heaven I don’t want to go there; and she could not spell a letter decently.  And does Mr. Gray think God took note of that?”

“I was sure you would agree with me, Miss Galindo,” said my lady.  “You and I can remember how this talk about education—­Rousseau, and his writings—­stirred up the French people to their Reign of Terror, and all those bloody scenes.”

“I’m afraid that Rousseau and Mr. Gray are birds of a feather,” replied Miss Galindo, shaking her head.  “And yet there is some good in the young man too.  He sat up all night with Billy Davis, when his wife was fairly worn out with nursing him.”

“Did he, indeed!” said my lady, her face lighting up, as it always did when she heard of any kind or generous action, no matter who performed it.  “What a pity he is bitten with these new revolutionary ideas, and is so much for disturbing the established order of society!”

When Miss Galindo went, she left so favourable an impression of her visit on my lady, that she said to me with a pleased smile—­

“I think I have provided Mr. Horner with a far better clerk than he would have made of that lad Gregson in twenty years.  And I will send the lad to my lord’s grieve, in Scotland, that he may be kept out of harm’s way.”

But something happened to the lad before this purpose could be accomplished.