The Chevalier's daughter

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

"And are you not friends now?" I asked.

"We have never quarrelled, child, if that is what you mean, but she has gone her way, and I mine. There, we won't talk of it. See there is the coach of the French ambassador. Is it not fine? He has some fine lady and gentleman visiting him from France. I dare say we shall meet them to-morrow night. But we must be going home to dinner."

My uncle was not at dinner, being in attendance upon the Duke of York in some capacity or other. I forget what. When the meal was over my aunt said she meant to take a rest, and she dared to say I would like to do the same. I took the hint and retired to my own room.

Here was a chance for the devotions I had neglected in the morning, but it may be guessed that I was in no promising frame for them. However, I read a chapter and hurried over a few forms, and then spent the rest of the afternoon reading a French romance I had found on my table, and in practising upon the harpsicon my uncle had sent home for me. He was very fond of music, and wished me above all things to cultivate it and to improve my voice.

In the evening, my aunt entertained a small company of her friends, and she would have me sing for them. I received many compliments, both upon my voice and my playing, with which my aunt was honestly pleased, for she was never one to envy another's success. When I went up to my room, I found Mercer waiting to undress me and curl my hair. She had also a new gown and petticoat ready for me to try on, and I actually forgot all about my prayers till I was in bed and the light out. So ended my first day in London.

Next morning I received a message to come to my aunt's bedroom as soon as I was dressed.

"Is my aunt ill?" I asked of Mercer, who was waiting to show me the way.

"Oh, no, Mrs. d'Antin. She wishes to introduce you to your teacher of music."

I actually did not know where to look when I entered my aunt's room and found her lying in bed half raised upon a heap of laced pillows, with only a light mantle thrown over her night dress, while a very smart gentleman stood talking by the bedside. It was the first time I had seen such a reception, but I soon grew accustomed to it, as one does to everything.

My aunt introduced me to Mr. Goodgroome, who tried my voice, and pronounced it a good one and well managed, though lacking in finish and execution. And as this was all the fault he could find, I suppose I must have acquitted myself pretty well, since I have observed that it is very hard for any one of his profession to allow merit in the pupils of another.