to work as I am doing now, I am sure that my health would seriously suffer. I am frequently up until past twelve, correcting exercises which I have not time to do in the day, and I am obliged to rise at six to superintend the practising.”
Jane could with truth assure her that there would be no overworking in her home—if she came into it; and when Miss Lethwait quitted the house, she was engaged, subject to references.
She had barely gone when Mrs. Marden called, a pretty little woman with a profusion of auburn hair. Jane saw her with surprise. An appointment had been made for them to meet at half-past one, but it was yet only half-past twelve. Mrs. Marden had come to tell Jane she would probably receive a visit from Miss Lethwait. Jane replied that she had been already; and grew eloquent in her praise.
“I like her very much indeed,” she said. “She appears to me to be well qualified in every way; an unusually desirable person to fill such a post. Mrs. Marden, I wonder you were not anxious to secure her for your own children!” she added, the idea striking her.
Mrs. Marden laughed. “The governess I have suits me very well,” she answered. “She is not perfection; I don’t know who is; you may not find Miss Lethwait to be so.”
“No, indeed,” said Jane.
“Miss Jones is patient and efficient,” continued Mrs. Marden. “At least she is efficient while my children are at their present ages—scarcely out of the nursery; but she is not a finished linguist and musician, as is Miss Lethwait,”
“I wonder,” cried Jane, the thought striking her, “whether she is a daughter of the Reverend Mr. Jones of South Wennock?”
“No, I am sure she is not. She observes a complete silence as to her relatives: never will speak of them. I once told her I did not believe Jones was her real name,” continued Mrs. Mardon, laughing. “She said it was; but I declare I’d not answer for it. She acknowledged that there were circumstances connected with her family which rendered her unwilling to speak of them: and she never has done so. However, the lady who recommended her to me, a schoolmistress of position, answered for her thorough respectability, and so I am content to let Miss Jones keep her mystery.”
The words had struck on a chord in Jane Chesney’s heart never wholly dormant. Was it possible that this governess could be her sister Clarice? She, as Jane had every reason to suppose, had changed her name when she left her home, and she had repeated to Jane in her letters the assurance—reiterating it, half in anger, half in deprecatory excuse, but wholly in earnest—that never through her should the name of that family be known.
“What sort of a lady is Miss Jones?” asked Jane, all too eagerly. “Is she young?”
“She is young, and very pretty. So pretty that were my sons young men I might think her a dangerous inmate. Why?”
“And how long has she been with you?”
“How long?—nearly two years, I think,” said Mrs. Marden, struck with Lady Jane’s sudden interest, and wondering what could be its cause. “Why do you ask?”
Every word seemed to add to the probability. In a month’s time it would be two years since Clarice quitted her home.
“Can you tell me her Christian name?”
Jane asked, paying no heed to Mrs. Marden’s question.
“Her Christian name?” repeated Mrs. Marden. “Well, now, it never struck me until this minute that I do not remember ever to have heard it. Stay! she signs her receipts for salary ‘C. Jones;’ I remember that. Probably it’s Caroline,”
“Do you suppose it is Clarice?” asked Jane, her lips parted with emotion.
“Clarice? It may be. But that is an uncommon name. May I again inquire, Lady Jane, why you ask? You appear to have some interest in the subject.”
“Yes,” said Jane, recalled to a sense of the present. “I—I knew a young lady who went out as governess nearly two years ago, and I am wishing much to find her. I think—I think it may be the same.”
“Was her name Jones?”
“No, it was not. But I believe that the young lady I mention assumed another name in deference to the prejudices of her family, who did not like that one, bearing theirs, should be known as a governess. Excuse my giving further particulars, Mrs. Marden; should Miss Jones prove to be the same, you shall hear them without reserve. Can you let me see her?”
“Whenever you please,” was Mrs. Marden’s answer. “Now, if you like. My carriage is at the door, and if you will come home with me and take luncheon she will be at the table with the two eldest girls, for they make it their dinner. After that, we will go straight to the concert.”
Jane needed no second invitation, but attired herself without delay. A thought crossed her of whether this would not be incurring the displeasure of her father, who had so positively forbidden her to see after Clarice; but for once in her life Jane risked it. Though