England -- Fiction; France -- Fiction; Governesses -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction
I did not wait for a second permission: the thought that Emily de
Mellissie might help me to a fresh situation had been floating in my
mind all night. She was well-connected in England; she was in the best
society in Paris; and she was good-natured.
In the afternoon I proceeded to the hotel (as it was called) of old
Madame de Mellissie, for it was her house, and her son and
daughter-in-law lived with her. Emily was at home, surrounded by
morning callers, quite a crowd of them. She looked intensely surprised
at seeing me; was, or I fancied it, rather distant and haughty in
manner; and, pointing to a chair, desired me to wait. Did she deem I
had presumptuously intruded _as_ one of those morning callers? Very
humbly I waited until the last had gone: schooling myself to remember
that I was but a poor governess, while she was Madame Alfred de
Mellissie, _née_ Miss Chandos of Chandos.
"And so you have soon come to pay me a visit, Miss Hereford!"
"I have come as a petitioner, rather than as a visitor, Madame de
Mellissie. Can you spare me five minutes?"
"I can spare you ten if you like, now those loungers are gone."
I forthwith told my tale. That I was leaving Mrs. Paler's, where I was
overworked: that I had thought it possible she might know of some
situation open: if so, would she kindly recommend me?
"The idea, Anne Hereford, of your coming to me upon such an errand!"
was her laughing answer. "As if I troubled myself about vacant
situations! There is a rumour current in Paris this morning that James
Paler has been idiot enough to go and ruin himself on the turf. That he
has lost a great deal of money is certain, for the newspapers allude to
it in a manner not to be mistaken. Thank goodness, Alfred has no
weakness that way, though he is empty-headed enough. Is it not a
dreadful life, that of a governess?"
"At Mrs. Paler's it has been one of incessant toil. I hope to go where
the duties will be lighter. It is not the life I like, or would have
chosen; but I must bend to circumstances."
"That's true enough. I will ask all my friends in Paris if they——by the
way," she abruptly broke off, speaking with slow deliberation, "I
wonder whether—if you should be found suitable—whether you would like
something else?"
I made no reply; only waited for her to explain herself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account