“I think these will do, Mrs. Wyvil. I am not a very accomplished linguist, but I will submit these specimens to Professor Le Grange for his opinion,” said the lady, as she touched a golden timbre at her side.
The door opened, and the man whom Lilith had seen in the hall appeared.
“Request Monsieur Le Grange to come here,” said the lady.
The man disappeared, and was succeeded by the little, round-bodied Frenchman.
“Monsieur, will you have the goodness to glance over these translations, and give me your opinion of them?” inquired the lady, handing the paper to the professor, who bowed—he spent half his time in the presence of his employer in bowing—looked over the page, then read it carefully, and returned it, saying:
“The translations are correct, madame.”
“Thank you, monsieur. That will do.”
The professor bowed and retired.
“Now, Mrs. Wyvil, there remains but to ask for your references—a mere matter of form, my dear, for believe me I am very favorably inclined towards you.”
Lilith’s face flushed as she answered: