Mademoiselle smiled, but said nothing. She was not without sympathy for the employers of governesses who had perpetual headaches: at the same time it is, perhaps, not exhilarating to be complimented on your health as a matter of convenience to another--though quite reasonable, as she was ready to allow. "That is what makes me think," said Mrs Wargrave, "that you must have something on your mind." This assault was so entirely unexpected that Mademoiselle not only flushed to her very hair, but started from her half-reclining attitude in her chair. "Ah," said Mrs Wargrave, "I thought as much! I don't call myself clever, but it isn't easy to deceive me in that sort of a way, Mademoiselle. I have noticed for a long time that you were not looking like yourself. Something has happened. The children--they are such quick observers, you know, and they tell me everything, poor things!--said something about a letter. You know, I am sure, that I don't want to pry into your affairs, but sometimes it does one good to confide in a friend--and I have always wished my governesses to consider me as a friend--especially you, who give so little trouble. I thought it might, perhaps, be a comfort to you to speak." Mademoiselle, during this speech, had time to recover herself. She said only, however, with the most polite and easy way of evasion, "I know that you are always very kind." "I am sure that I always mean to be," her patroness said, and she sat with her eyes fixed upon the patient, expectant--delighted with the idea of a sentimental confession, and yet rather alarmed lest this might lead to an intimation that it would be necessary to look for a new governess. Mrs Leicester Wargrave meant no harm to anybody, and was, on the whole, an amiable woman; but, as a matter of fact, the thing that would have truly delighted her, real pleasure without any penalty, would have been the confession from Mademoiselle of an unhappy love. And now there suddenly occurred an idea, half mischievous, half humorous, to Claire, who, in her own personality, had once been _espiègle_, and was not now superior to a certain pleasure in exposing the pretences of life. She scarcely understood how it was that, having finally and very seriously rejected the curious proposal which certainly, for a day or two, had done her the good service of quickening the monotony of life, she should have the sudden impulse of taking advice about it, and asking Mrs Wargrave, of all persons in the world, what she ought to do. Caprices of this kind seize the most serious in a moment without any previous intention, and the thought that to get a little amusement out of Charles Wargrave's proposal was permissible, seeing how much embarrassment and annoyance she was sure to get out of it, came to her mind with a flash of amused impulse: she said, "I did not think I had betrayed myself; and, indeed, it is only for a day or two that I have had anything on my mind."