Emilia blushed and sighed. "I have thought of that," she said, "with fear and trembling."
"Because you are poor?" questioned Madame Lambert, speaking still with the utmost kindness.
"Yes," said Emilia, softly. Frankness was best under the circumstances.
"My dear," said Madame Lambert, "I am sure you are a lady."
"My father was a gentleman," said Emilia. "He fell into misfortune, and when he died I was penniless."
"And you married a penniless gentleman. Ah, how imprudent is youth! But I have been young myself, and have loved and lost. My dear, neither am I rich, but I have a life income which is sufficient. It dies with me, I regret to say. I have a reason for telling you this. Like yourself, I am alone in the world. I was born in Geneva, and when a course of travel, which my doctor recommended for my health, is over, shall return there to live. Will you travel with me as my friend and companion? I can offer you very little in the shape of salary, but it will be enough to provide you with clothes, and perhaps a little more. Then you will have a lady with you when your baby is born. What do you say?"
"What can I say," replied Emilia, in a voice of gratitude that completed the conquest she had began, "but thank you from my inmost heart for your kind offer? I can scarcely believe it real."
"It is real, my dear. Heaven is very good, and sends us friends when we least expect them. I am sure we shall get along very well together. You accept, then?"
"I accept with gratitude." She raised the hand of the kind lady to her lips, and her tears bedewed it. "Yes, God is very good to me. I will prove worthy of your kindness. You shall never repent it."
"If thought otherwise I should not press it upon you, my dear. You will really be rendering me a greater service than it is in my power to render to you. It is miserable to travel alone, without a kindred soul to talk to and confide in. So it is settled. We shall be true friends."