'If you were at my charity school, Lucy,' said Albinia, 'the first
lesson I should give you would be against telling tales.'

Lucy subsided.

Albinia turned to Sophy. 'My dear,' she said, 'perhaps I pressed
this on when you were not prepared for it, but I have always been
used to think of it as a duty.'

Sophy made no answer, but her moody attitude relaxed, and Albinia
took comfort in the hope that she might have been gracious if she had
known how to set about it.

'I suppose Miss Belmarche is a Roman Catholic,' she said, wishing to
account for this wonderful ignorance, and addressing herself to
Sophy; but Lucy, whom she thought she had effectually put down, was
up again in a moment like a Jack-in-a-box.

'O yes, but not Genevieve. Her papa made it his desire that she
should be brought up a Protestant. Wasn't it funny? You know
Genevieve is Madame Belmarche's grand-daughter, and Mr. Durant was a
dancing-master.'

'Madame Belmarche's father and brother were guillotined,' continued
Sophy.

'Ah! then she is an emigrant?'

'Yes. Miss Belmarche has always kept school here. Our own mamma,
and Aunt Maria went to school to her, and Miss Celeste Belmarche