“And yet, Thérèse, I was once as poor as you, and poorer. If I know how to use things, and if, as you say, they come to me of the best, it is because I think first what they were made for, and not what they are taken as signs of. If, instead of enjoying the luxuries of my house, I were to look upon them as showing that I am lady F——, I should be apt to try to behave as people think lady F—— should behave; and then I should be awkward. Now, if you consider all the pretty things you have to use, not as pointing you out as lady F——’s lady’s-maid, but as intended to make me and my little friend comfortable, you will not be distressed about being unlike Philips: you will know that I had rather see you the same Thérèse that I always knew you.” “O, madame, this is being very good. But then, I cannot feel as you do, because there is more occasion for me to think about the change. There is my lord to take off your thoughts from such things; he is with you in every new place, and you see how accustomed he is to everything that is strange to you.” “That does make some difference certainly,” said the lady, smiling, “but then you should consider how many more new places and people I have to make acquaintance with than you. Except Philips, or two or three of the servants below, you have nobody to be afraid of, and I am never long away. You will feel yourself at ease in one room after another, and with one person after another, till you will learn to do all your business, and speak all your thoughts, as simply and confidently as you once watered the salads in your father’s shop, and made your confession to good old father Bénoit.” Thérèse sighed deeply, as she finished her task and withdrew to the fireside, as if no longer to detain her lady about her own affairs. “I have not forgotten, Thérèse, about finding a confessor for you. I am only cautious lest we should not observe exactly your father’s directions.” “Madame—they are so very particular!—that the priest should be a devout man, and very old and experienced in the confession of girls like me.” “I know; and we thought we had found such an one; but he has forgotten almost all his French, and you could hardly confess in English. But make yourself easy; your conscience shall soon be relieved.—Good night. Philips will sit up.... More work, do you want?—You may give Philips a French lesson. O, you have read all these books. Well: come with me into the library, and I will find you more.” On the stairs they met lord F——. “Where are you going, Letitia? Frances is closeted with Philips in the library.” Thérèse immediately stole back to the dressing-room; but before the carriages drove off, she was furnished with a fresh volume wherewith to be occupied when she should have made tea for Mrs. Philips and herself.