“Put a good face upon the matter at least,” whispered her governess in French.
“I can assure you,” said her ladyship, “I don’t know what’s in this book; I never opened it; I got it this morning at the circulating library at Cheltenham: I put it into my pocket in a hurry—pray what is it?”
“If you have not opened it,” said Mr. Mountague, laying his hand upon the book; “I may hope that you never will—but this is the second volume.”
“May be so,” said Lady Augusta; “I suppose, in my hurry, I mistook—”
“She never had the first, I can promise you,” cried mademoiselle.
“Never,” said Lady Augusta. The assertions had not the power to convince; they were pronounced with much vehemence, but not with the simplicity of truth. Mr. Mountague was determined to have the point cleared up; and he immediately offered to ride back to Cheltenham, and return the second volume. At this proposal, Lady Augusta, who foresaw that her falsehood would be detected, turned pale; but mademoiselle, with a laugh of effrontery, which she thought was putting a good face upon the matter, exclaimed,
“Eh! listen to me—you may spare yourself de trouble of your ride,” said she, “for the truth is, I have de first volume. Mon Dieu! I have not committed murder—do not look so shock—what signify what I read at my age?”
“But Lady Augusta, your pupil!” said Mr. Mountague.
“I tell you she has never read one word of it; and, after all, is she child now? When she was, Miladi S—— was very particular, and I, of consequence and of course, in de choice of her books; but now, oder affaire, she is at liberty, and my maxim is—Tout est sain aux sains.”
Mr. Mountague’s indignation was now strongly raised against this odious governess, and he looked upon her pupil with an eye of compassion. “So early, so young, tainted by the pernicious maxims of a worthless woman!”