"That was my thought, but I dared not express it. I knew well the dulness of your intellect, and although last night you did soar into a different world--_ma foi_, you did take me by surprise!--you are yourself a very _triste_ little girl--an _enfant_ indistinguishable, with neither the gifts of beauty nor of genius." "Well--I am going--it is arranged. Mrs Hazlitt will doubtless be written to." "And where do you go, _pauvre petite_?" asked the governess. "I am going to stay with Honora Beverley, at Castle Beverley," replied Penelope, with even a touch of arrogance in her small voice. Mademoiselle opened her eyes wide. "With her!--my pupil _magnifique_, and so beautiful! She has the air distinguished and the manner noble. She belongs to the rich and to the great. _She_ takes _you_ up--but _pourquoi_?" "Kindness--I suppose," said Penelope. "I am lonely, and they have a big house; I am going there." "It is wonderful," said Mademoiselle, "you of all people. Honora is one with thoughts the most lofty, and she signifies a preference for you! It is strange--it gives me _mal a la tete_ even to think of it!" "Why should it?" asked Penelope. "Do I not know some of your ways, _mon enfant_--and that little, little transaction in the wood?" "What in the world do you mean?" said Penelope, turning ghastly white. "Ah! I mean no wrong. I have eaten enough of your odious English cookery; let us rise from table. I am glad to feel that you are going to that friend so unsuitable--to that lady so _superieure_. Would she ask you if she knew what I know?--" "I can't tell, I am sure, what you do know," said Penelope; "but what I feel at present is that I want rest--you're not obliged to follow me about all the afternoon--may I stay by myself until supper time?" "Ungrateful!" cried Mademoiselle. "But I shall go--I need you not. I have myself to attend to, and my affairs so sombre to settle. I will meet you again at the hour of supper, when I have put matters in train for myself." Penelope left her. How much did Mademoiselle know? She disliked her heartily, and did not want to trouble her head too much over the circumstance. She felt certain that the four girls who had given her the money would not confide their secrets to any one, far less to Mademoiselle, whom they distrusted. Nevertheless, the governess was scarcely likely to speak as she had done without reason. She was evidently jealous of Penelope's invitation to Beverley Castle, and was very angry at being dismissed from Hazlitt Chase. "She can't by any possibility know the truth," thought the girl, "and I won't fret about it. I will just humour her as best I can until next week arrives, and then say good-bye to her for ever. I am heartily glad she is leaving the school; I never liked her so little as I do now."