“Oh, insulted you! You need not be so grand. They say you may have Purcell if you like,” said Law, “or even the Signor; but it’s the other fellow, Ridsdale, you know, your old flame, the governor is thinking of. If you could catch _him_ now! though I don’t believe a fellow like that could mean anything. But even Purcell is better than nothing. If you would take my advice----” Lottie did not stay to hear any more. He laughed as she rushed out of the room, putting up her hands to her ears. But Law was surprised that she did not strike a blow for herself before she left him. Her self-restraint had a curious effect upon the lad. “Is anything up?” he said to himself. Generally it was no difficult matter to goad Lottie to fury with allusions like this. He sat quite still and listened while she ran upstairs into her own room, which was overhead. Then Law philosophically addressed himself to what was left of the breakfast. He had an excellent appetite; and the bell ringing outside which called so many people, but not him, and the sight of the old Chevaliers streaming across the road, and the morning congregation hurrying along to the door in the cloisters, pleased him as he finished his meal, without even his sister’s eye upon him to remark the ravages he made in the butter. But when he heard Lottie’s step coming down stairs again Law stopped, not without a sense of guilt, and listened intently. She did not come in, which was a relief, but his surprise was great when he heard her walk past the open door of the little dining-room, and next moment saw her flit past the window on the way to the Abbey. He got up, though he had not finished, and stared after her till she, too, disappeared in the cloister. “Something must be up,” he repeated to himself.