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.
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