“And who will take her in charge, Sare?” said she, repeating the former question.
Mr. M’Kinlay laid his hand over the region of his heart, and bowed; but whether he meant that he himself would undertake the guardianship of the young lady, or that the matter was a secret enclosed in his own breast, is not at all easy to say.
“May I speak to her about this?”
“Not until I shall see you again; but you may take all such measures as may prepare her for her sudden departure.”
Mr. M’Kinlay was, throughout the brief interview, more despotic than gallant. He was not quite satisfied that the mission was one in perfect accordance with his high professional dignity, and so to relieve himself from any self-reproach, he threw a dash of severity through his condescension.
“I suppose,” said he, superbly—“I suppose she has clothes?”
Mademoiselle stared at this, but did not reply.
“I am somewhat unaccustomed, as you may perceive, Mademoiselle, to these sort of affairs; I know nothing of young ladies’ wardrobes. I simply asked, was she in a position to travel, if called on, at a brief notice?”
“My poor Kate! my poor Kate!” was all that the governess could utter.
“I must say, Mademoiselle,” said he, pompously, “that, looking to what she originally came from, and taking into account the care and cost bestowed upon her, I do not perceive this to be a case that calls for any deep commiseration.”