“I know what you daren’t acknowledge, you foolish child!” she exclaimed. “You daren’t acknowledge that you are tired of this dull house. My dear! I am entirely of your opinion--I am weary of my own magnificence; I long to be living in one snug little room, with one servant to wait on me. I’ll tell you what we will do. We will go to Paris, in the first place. My excellent Migliore, prince of couriers, shall be the only person in attendance. He shall take a lodging for us in one of the unfashionable quarters of Paris. We will rough it, Grace (to use the slang phrase), merely for a change. We will lead what they call a ‘Bohemian life.’ I know plenty of writers and painters and actors in Paris--the liveliest society in the world, my dear, until one gets tired of them. We will dine at the restaurant, and go to the play, and drive about in shabby little hired carriages. And when it begins to get monotonous (which it is only too sure to do!) we will spread our wings and fly to Italy, and cheat the winter in that way. There is a plan for you! Migliore is in town. I will send to him this evening, and we will start to-morrow.” Mercy made another effort. “I entreat your ladyship to pardon me,” she resumed. “I have something serious to say. I am afraid--” “I understand. You are afraid of crossing the Channel, and you don’t like to acknowledge it. Pooh! The passage barely lasts two hours; we will shut ourselves up in a private cabin. I will send at once--the courier may be engaged. Ring the bell.” “Lady Janet, I must submit to my hard lot. I cannot hope to associate myself again with any future plans of yours--” “What! you are afraid of our ‘Bohemian life’ in Paris? Observe this, Grace! If there is one thing I hate more than another, it is ‘an old head on young shoulders.’ I say no more. Ring the bell.” “This cannot go on, Lady Janet! No words can say how unworthy I feel of your kindness, how ashamed I am--” “Upon my honor, my dear, I agree with you. You _ought_ to be ashamed, at your age, of making me get up to ring the bell.” Her obstinacy was immovable; she attempted to rise from the couch. But one choice was left to Mercy. She anticipated Lady Janet, and rang the bell. The man-servant came in. He had his little letter-tray in his hand, with a card on it, and a sheet of paper beside the card, which looked like an open letter. “You know where my courier lives when he is in London?’ asked Lady Janet. “Yes, my lady.” “Send one of the grooms to him on horseback; I am in a hurry. The courier is to come here without fail to-morrow morning--in time for the tidal train to Paris. You understand?” “Yes, my lady.” “What have you got there? Anything for me?” “For Miss Roseberry, my lady.” As he answered, the man handed the card and the open letter to Mercy. “The lady is waiting in the morning-room, miss. She wished me to say she has time to spare, and she will wait for you if you are not ready yet.”