“Can I speak to you alone for a few moments, ma’am?” she inquired, rather nervously.
“Certainly, my dear. Take that easy chair,” said the lady, in some surprise, as she motioned her visitor to be seated.
Miss Meeke sat down, but continued perfectly silent and extremely ill at ease.
Mrs. Force observed her for some minutes, and seeing no prospect of her speaking, inquired gently:
“What can I do for you, my dear?”
“I—I——” began the governess, taking up the corner of her black, silk apron and beginning to scrutinize it very attentively, while her nervousness increased every instant—“I—do not know—that you can do anything for me, ma’am; but—but—but——”
“Well, my dear?” inquired the lady, kindly, seeing that the governess had paused in her embarrassment.
“I think I ought—that it is my duty to give—to say—to tell——” began the poor girl, falteringly, and then coming to another dead halt.
“Can I help you out in any way? Are you in any difficulty? Have you any complaint to make? Speak, my dear. Do not be afraid,” said the lady.
“Oh, no—but—I am going to be married!” suddenly blurted out the girl, as by a heroic effort, and then she flushed crimson over cheeks, neck and brow.