Next morning, among hundreds of other "wants," this appeared in the Herald, and nothing now remained for Georgia but to wait. The excitement of her flight, the necessity of immediate action, and now the fever of suspense, kept her mind from dwelling too much on the past. Had it been otherwise, with her impassioned nature, she might have sunk into an agony of despair, or raved in the delirium of brain-fever. As it was, she remained stunned into a sort of calm—white, cold, passionless; but, oh! with such a settled night of utter sorrow in the great melancholy dark eyes.
Fortunately for her, she was not doomed to remain long in suspense. On the third day a note was brought to her in a gentleman's hand, and tearing it eagerly open, she read:
"Astor House, Jan. 12, 18—.
"Madam: Seeing your advertisement in the Herald, and being in want of a governess, if not already engaged, you would do well to favor me with a call at your earliest leisure. I will leave the city in two days. Yours,
"John Leonard."
As she finished reading this, Georgia started to her feet, hastily donned her hat and cloak, with her thick vail closely over her face, and taking one of the widow's little boys with her, as guide, set out for the hotel.
Upon reaching it she inquired for Mr. Leonard. A servant went for him, and in a few minutes returned with a benevolent-looking old gentleman, with white hair and a kind, friendly face.
"You wished to see me, madam," he said, bowing, and looking inquiringly at the Juno-like form dressed in black.
"Yes, sir; I am the governess," said Georgia, her heart throbbing so violently that she turned giddy.
"Oh, indeed!" said the old gentleman, kindly; "perhaps we had better step up to my room, then; this is no place to settle business."
Georgia followed him up two or three flights of stairs, to an elegantly furnished apartment. Handing her a chair, he seated himself, and glanced somewhat curiously at her.
"You received my answer to your advertisement?" he said.