"If I were to be asked how I became proficient in theatricals, I should have to say I was on the stage; and I don't wish to do that."

"Why, dear?"

"Because the people might say they did not wish to have an actress in the house, and I want to avoid the insult."

"My dear, you have the absurdest notions. If they had seen you on the stage, they will be all the more delighted to have you. It was because you were an actress, I firmly believe, that I came to see you; and in a few days I have made a daughter of you."

"n.o.body seems inclined to answer my letters," said the girl, ruefully.

"You may wait, and wait, for months," said Mrs. Anerley. "Add this one to the number, and tell them who you are. But you must tell them that you only want a small salary, or they will never think of engaging you."

So the letter was written in accordance with these suggestions, and posted with several others. By that night's post-and the exceeding swiftness of the response might have provoked some suspicion in less unworldly minds-there came a letter. Annie Brunel was alone. She saw by the unknown handwriting that the letter was likely to be a reply to one of her applications; and for a minute or two she allowed the envelope to remain unopened, while she wondered what sort of destiny lay folded within it.

These were the words she read-

"Rose Villa, Haverstock Hill, October 29, 18-.

"Mrs. John Hubbard presents compliments to Miss Brunel; is exceedingly obliged by the offer of her valuable a.s.sistance, and would Miss Brunel be good enough to call, at her convenience, any forenoon between ten and two? Mrs. Hubbard hopes that if Miss Brunel can be induced to accept the situation which lies at her disposal, nothing will be wanting to render her position in the house more that of a friend than an instructress. Mrs. Hubbard hopes her proposal, when properly explained to Miss Brunel, will meet with Miss Brunel's favourable consideration."

This to a governess! The girl scarcely knew how to regard the letter-so familiar, so respectful, so anxious.

"Here is another person who does not object to my being an actress. And I am to be her friend."

She came to the conclusion that a lady who could so write to a perfect stranger, must either be mad, or have an idea that, in asking Annie Brunel to her house, it was 'Juliet' or 'Rosalind' who might be expected to come.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

THE NEW GOVERNESS.

It was a cold wet day, in the beginning of November, when Annie Brunel got out of the Hampstead 'bus, and found herself in the muddy highway of Haverstock Hill: a wet and cheerless day, with a damp and cutting wind, and a perpetual drizzling rain, that made the black stems of the leafless trees glisten and drip; a day to make the people who pa.s.sed each other in the street, vainly m.u.f.fled-up against the wet and the keen cold, hate each other with a vague and gratuitous hatred. There was scarcely a traveller on foot who did not regard all others in similar plight as somehow responsible for the contrariety of the elements.

"What a pity you should have come to-day!" cried Mrs. John Hubbard, as she came into the hall to receive her visitor. "I would rather you had broken a dozen appointments. I hope you are not wet. I hope you are not cold. Come into the drawing-room at once; there is a nice warm fire to bring the blood to your fingers again."

During this speech Annie Brunel had time to examine her future mistress.

She was not obviously mad. Indeed, the coal-black hair, the rosy cheeks, the small and pretty mouth, the neat figure and small hands, were the natural ornaments of a person who seemed mentally far too colourless and contented ever to be troubled by intellectual derangement. Yet the new governess was as much puzzled by her reception as by the letter she had received.

"There now, take this easy-chair-let me draw it in for you-and we shall have a chat over the matter. I have hitherto only had a morning governess, you know; the poor girl took unwell some time ago, and she has not been here for some days now."

At this precise moment, Miss Betham was upstairs, packing her music and preparing for final departure. But to the good-natured and mentally limp Mrs. Hubbard, lying came as easily as telling the truth. She would not have told a lie to secure a particular end; but in the course of conversation she did not seem to recognise the necessity of being exact in her statements. She lied broadly and often; but she lied harmlessly-at least she meant to do no harm by her lying.

"I won't ask you any questions, Miss Brunel-not one. You have your own reasons for leaving the stage; and I'm not going to quarrel with what enables me to have your a.s.sistance (if we can make arrangements, that is), which I don't doubt for a moment."

"I am quite inexperienced, as I told you in my letter--"

"Oh, that does not signify," said the other, affably.

Annie Brunel looked up with a glance of astonishment, which any woman not a fool would have noticed.

"And if you think that I know enough to attempt to get into the way of teaching, I shall leave all the other arrangements to you. I am not anxious about the salary you may be inclined to give me; because, after all, it is only a trial. And if you think I am worth to you, in the meantime, so much per week as will keep me in food and pay my lodgings--"

"Your lodgings! I could not think of submitting you to the misery of lodgings so long as I have a comfortable room to offer you."

Mrs. Hubbard did not look like a practical joker; but her reception of the new governess looked uncommonly like a practical joke.

"You are very kind," said Annie, the wide eyes being a little wider than usual; "but I thought it was as a day-governess--"

"To be sure, we have always had a day-governess. But in _your_ case I should prefer a resident governess, especially if you are about to leave your home and take lodgings."

"I meant to take lodgings somewhere near you, if I had the good fortune to please you."

"In this neighbourhood you couldn't get lodgings; and if you go down to Camden Town, or over to Kentish Town-oh, my dear, I couldn't think of it. My husband is very particular about everybody connected with us being treated fairly-like one of ourselves, you understand; and as soon as he heard of your being inclined to answer the advertis.e.m.e.nt, he said-

"'I hope Miss Brunel will find a comfortable home here.'"

This was another lie-indeed, what little intellect the poor woman had chiefly took the form of invention.

"I am not anxious to go into lodgings," said Annie Brunel, with a smile, "as I had a good deal of experience of them at one time."

"Shall we consider it settled, then?"

"But you do not know whether I am fit for the duties you require."

"What an objection! I know you are."

"Then, as to terms--"

"We shan't quarrel about terms. Come and stay with us as soon as you can, and we'll make everything comfortable and agreeable for you, and we'll settle about terms afterwards. Then, you know, we shall have private theatricals to amuse you."

In certain stories, and in not a few dramas, Annie Brunel had seen a perfect stranger suddenly determine to play the part of a special Providence towards the heroine; but she was lost in astonishment to meet that incomprehensible friend in real life. Here she was, however; and when it is manna that the clouds rain, there is little reason in putting up an umbrella.

Mrs. Hubbard rang the bell, and sent a servant for the children. They came trooping down to the drawing-room, pushing each other, and looking very shy and a trifle sulky.

"This is the lady who will help you with your lessons now, my dears, since Miss Betham has gone."

"Miss Betham hasn't gone-she is upstairs yet," said Master Alexander, "and she has just told Kate to fetch her her sherry."

"Ah, come to look after some music she has left behind, perhaps," said Mrs. Hubbard, with a significant nod to Annie.

"You will find the children very obedient," she continued, "and nothing shall be wanting to add to your comfort. May we conclude the bargain to be settled?"

"Certainly, so far as I am concerned," said the girl.

These were the agreeable tidings which awaited Mr. John Hubbard when he returned home that night.