of that, dear, and admire you the more for it," said Mrs Davilow, glad of an unexpected opening for speaking on a difficult subject. "I didn't mean that you should resign yourself to worse when anything better offered itself. Both your uncle and aunt have felt that your abilities and education were a fortune for you, and they have already heard of something within your reach."
"What is that, mamma?" Some of Gwendolen's anger gave way to interest, and she was not without romantic conjectures.
"There are two situations that offer themselves. One is in a bishop's family, where there are three daughters, and the other is in quite a high class of school; and in both your French, and music, and dancing—and then your manners and habits as a lady, are exactly what is wanted. Each is a hundred a-year—and—just for the present"—Mrs Davilow had become frightened and hesitating—"to save you from the petty, common way of living that we must go to—you would perhaps accept one of the two."
"What! be like Miss Graves at Madame Meunier's? No."
"I think, myself, that Dr Mompert's would be more suitable. There could be no hardship in a bishop's family."
