Mrs. Munden paused a little on what she had heard; and believing there must be something very extraordinary indeed, both in the person and the visit, resolved to be convinced of the truth; therefore, having given a strict charge that both the footmen should be ready at her call in case there should be any occasion for them, went into the dining-room, and ordered that the person who enquired for her should be introduced.
Her whole appearance answered exactly to the description that had been given of her by the maid; but it was her face which most alarmed Mrs. Munden, as being positive she had seen it before, though when or where she could not at that instant recollect.
But the stranger soon eased her of the suspense she was in; when, throwing herself at her feet, and bursting into a flood of tears, 'You once offered me your friendship, Madam,' said she: 'a consciousness of my own unworthiness made me refuse that honour; but I now come to implore your compassion and charitable protection. I have no hope of safety, or of shelter, but in your goodness and generosity.'
The accents of her voice now discovered her to be no other than the lady Mrs. Munden had seen at the mercer's: she was strangely confounded, but not so much as to hinder her from raising the distressed fair-one with the greatest civility, and seating her in a chair, 'Though I cannot comprehend, Madam,' answered she, 'by what accident you are reduced to address me in these terms, yet you may rely upon my readiness to assist the unfortunate, especially a person, whom I cannot but look upon as far from deserving to be so.'
'Oh! would to God,' cried the other, very emphatically, 'that my history could preserve that kind opinion in you! but, alas! though I find myself obliged to relate it to you, in order to obtain the protection I intreat, I tremble lest, by doing so, I should forfeit those pretensions to your mercy, which otherwise my sex, and my distress, might justly claim.'
These words were sufficient to have aroused the curiosity of a woman who had less of that propensity in her nature than Mrs. Munden; she told her that, by being made the confidante of her affairs, she should think herself obliged to excuse whatever she found not worthy of her approbation.
'Prepare yourself, then, Madam,' said her still weeping guest; 'summon all your goodness to forgive the frailties of youth and inadvertency, and to pity the sad consequences which sometimes attend the pride of flattered beauty and vain desire of ambition.'
This expression sunk more deeply in the mind of Mrs. Munden than the person who uttered it imagined: she made no reply, however; and the other began the narrative she had promised in these or the like terms.
The history of Mademoiselle de Roquelair.
'I need not tell you, Madam,' said she, 'that I am not a native of this kingdom; my bad pronunciation of the language speaks it for me: I am, indeed, by birth a Parisian, and daughter of the Sieur de Roquelair, a man of some estimation in the world.