ance with a gentleman whose name was as high-sounding and romantic as her own—Mr. Stanhope Fitz Raymond. He had quite convinced her that her genius was wholly lost in Lady Anne's family; and this evening she had decided to join her fate with his, and commence operations on a wider scale.
She began by taking the few silver spoons which were to be found, and leaving behind a useful lesson, if people ever profited by such things, namely, that it is as well not to leave your house and family in the care of a foreigner, of whom you only know that her accent is irreproachable, and that she puts on a shawl to perfection. In the mean time, poor Sarah stood aghast; there she was alone with three girls apparently dying; but when nine and ten o'clock struck, and no Mademoiselle Virginie appeared, her alarm was at its height: at that moment came the appalling discovery that the silver spoons were missing also.
Sarah could bear no more: the very extremity of her distress suggested a consolation. Her sister had lived for some time as housemaid with a lady on the opposite side of the street. She was married, and living in the country; but Sarah now recalled all that she had heard her say of Mrs. Palmer's goodness. Without hesitation she ran across, and asked to see the lady. Mrs. Palmer did not allow her to get half through her story before she rang for her shawl and bonnet, and went herself to Lady Anne's. Her kind heart was touched by the destitute state of the three young and
