Mistress Anne, indeed, in her ignorance, made matters worse. She had begun to pick up some Dutch, and was fond of airing her knowledge and practicing fresh sentences at meal-times. By some ill-luck she contrived this evening--particularly after, finding no one to contradict me, I had fallen into comparative silence--to frame her sentences so as to cause as much embarrassment as possible to all of us. "Where did you walk with Dymphna this morning?" was the question put to me. "You are fond of the water; Englishmen are fond of the water," she said to Dymphna. "Dymphna is tall; Master Francis is tall. I sit by you to-night; the Dutch lady sat by you last night," and soon, and so on, with prattle which seemed to amuse our host exceedingly--he was never tired of correcting her mistakes--but which put the rest of us out of countenance, bringing the tears to poor Dymphna's eyes--she did not know where to look--and making her lover glower at me as though he would eat me. It was in vain that the Duchess made spasmodic rushes into conversation, and in the intervals nodded and frowned at the delinquent. Mistress Anne in her innocence saw nothing. She went on until Van Tree could stand it no longer, and with a half-smothered threat, which was perfectly intelligible to me, rose roughly from the table, and went to the door as if to look out at the night. "What is the matter?" Mistress Anne said, wonderingly, in English. Her eyes seemed at length to be opened to the fact that something was amiss with us. Before I could answer, the Duchess, who had risen, came behind her. "You little fool!" she whispered fiercely, "if fool you are. You deserve to be whipped!" "Why, what have I done?" murmured the girl, really frightened now, and appealing to me. "Done!" whispered the Duchess; and I think she pinched her, for my neighbor winced. "More harm than you guess, you minx! And for you, Master Francis, a word with you. Come with me to my room, please." I went with her, half-minded to be angry, and half-inclined to feel ashamed of myself. She did not give me time, however, to consider which attitude I should take up, for the moment the door of her room was closed behind us, she turned upon me, the color high in her cheeks. "Now, young man," she said in a tone of ringing contempt, "do you really think that that girl is in love with you?" "What girl?" I asked sheepishly. The unexpected question and her tone put me out of countenance. "What girl? What girl?" she replied impatiently. "Don't play with me, boy! You know whom I mean. Dymphna Lindstrom!" "Oh, I thought you meant Mistress Anne," I said, somewhat impertinently.