"No better, sir; no other. I do not, I say, know whether he is dead or alive." "Well, it seems--pardon me--to be a somewhat wild-goose chase that you have entered on, this search for him. What is his name?" "My mother's maiden name was Williams. He was her brother." Mr. Castlemaine shook his head. "A not at all uncommon name," he said, "and I fear, madam, you might find some difficulty in tracing him out." "Yes, I fear so. I find those places are very far off. At any rate, I will not think more of it for the present. My little child, I see it now, is too young to travel." In all this account, Madame Guise had spoken the simple truth. The facts were as she stated. The only falsehood in it was, the representation that it was this relative, this never-yet-met uncle, she had come over to search out. During her long journey, through France, she had said to herself that after she had found her husband, they might perhaps go together to seek her uncle: but that was all. "Yes, the little one is too young and delicate to travel," pursued Madame Guise, "and I dare not take her on. This illness of hers has frightened me, and I shall, if possible, remain here by the sea." "I presume, madam--pardon me--that you were hoping to obtain help from this uncle." "Yes," was the answer, given falteringly. "Should you admit me into your house, sir, I will do my best to help on the studies of your daughter." "But--will you reconcile yourself to fill a situation of this kind in a stranger's house after having ruled in a home of your own?" questioned Mr. Castlemaine, considerately, as he remembered his wife's domineering and difficult temper. "Ah, sir, the beggars, you know, must not be the choosers. I must do something to keep me, and I would like to do this." "The salary Mrs. Castlemaine offers is fifty guineas." "It seems a large sum to me, sir," was the truthful and candid answer. "Appointments in France, a very few excepted, are not so highly paid as in England. I should of course be permitted to go out to see my child?" "Dear me, yes: whenever you pleased, madam. You would be quite at liberty here--be as one of ourselves entirely. Mrs. Castlemaine--but here she is; returning home." The Master of Greylands had heard the carriage drawing up. He quitted the room, and said a few hasty words to his wife of what had occurred. Mrs. Castlemaine, much taken with the project, came in, in her black satin pelisse, coated with crape. She sat down and put a few questions as to the applicant's acquirements. "I am a brilliant pianist, madam, as I know you sometimes phrase it in your country," said Madame Guise. "My French is of course pure; and I could teach dancing. Not drawing; I do not understand it." "Drawing is quite a minor consideration," replied Mrs. Castlemaine. "Could you undertake the English?" "Why not, madam? I am nearly as well read in English as in French. And I am clever at embroidery, and other kinds of fine and fancy needlework."