"Yes, sir," said Georgia, in a stifled voice.
"May I ask your name madam?" said Mr. Leonard, whose curiosity seemed piqued.
Georgia threw back her heavy vail, and the old gentleman gave a start of surprise at sight of the white, cold, beautiful face, and dark, sorrowful eyes.
"My name is Randall—Miss Randall," replied Georgia, while a faint red, that faded as quickly as it came, tinged her cheek at the deception.
Mr. Leonard bowed.
"I suppose you have credentials—your certificates from those with whom you have formerly lived?" said Mr. Leonard, hesitatingly, for he felt embarrassed to address this queenly looking girl, on whose marble-like face the awe-inspiring shadow of some mighty grief lay, as he would a common governess.
Georgia's eyes dropped, and again that slight tinge of color flashed across her face, and again faded away.
"No, sir; I have not. I never was a governess before; sudden reverses—adversity—"
She broke down, put her trembling hand before her face, and averted her head.
Mr. Leonard was an impulsive, kind-hearted old gentleman, and the sight of settled anguish in that pale young face went right home to his heart, and touched him exceedingly.