Harry felt a little in awe of this very decisive young lady, with her scornful lip and clear uncompromising tones. She hurried in advance to the house, and was waiting in the panelled dining-room when the others appeared. The table looked very inviting with its spotless napery, shining plate, and vases of flowers, and Harry found the meal much to his taste after the plain fare of Dutch hostelries. Besides such staple viands as Westphalian ham and bag-puddings—one variety of these, filled with raisins and spices, was excellent—there were dainty French dishes—confections of fruit and cream which surprised even Madame la Comtesse. "Ah, you rogue!" she exclaimed; "I see now where you hid yourself this afternoon." "Mademoiselle likes cooking?" Harry ventured to say. "By no means, Monsieur, I dislike it exceedingly." "Oh!" "I knew we had nothing ready, Mamma," added the girl, "and you would not have liked Monsieur to think little of your hospitality." During the meal Harry gave the ladies an account of himself, speaking of his early hopes and ambitions, his disappointments, the vain waiting for a message from Marlborough, the strange animus of the squire, the kidnapping, the interposition of Mynheer Grootz. His hearers were deeply interested; even Mademoiselle, though she said little, and seemed to curl her pretty lip when her mother’s curiosity or indignation showed itself in little vivacious exclamations,—Mademoiselle kept her eyes fixed on Harry as he spoke, though whenever he happened to glance towards her she was looking away and appeared unconcerned. "Ah, there now!" cried the comtesse, when Harry mentioned, without a trace of bitterness, Marlborough’s failure to keep his promise; "that is my lord duke’s character. He is mean, he is selfish, he loves no one but himself." "And the duchess," put in Harry. "But that is his duty. It is his duty to love his wife. I did not say he was a monster." "Did you love papa from duty?" asked Adèle simply. "I never said that, Adèle. Of course it is a woman’s duty to love her husband, but your dear father was so good, so kind, so fond of me that no one could help loving him." "Mynheer Grootz is good and kind, but you don’t love him." Madame de Vaudrey flushed. "You say such odd things, Adèle. I can’t think how it is. I never said such things when I was a girl. Mynheer Grootz is good, and kind; you are right; and if it were my duty——" "Oh, Mamma," cried Adèle, "do forget the word duty! I am sure none of us either loves or hates from duty.—Would Monsieur like some strawberries and cream?"