Philippa looked grave.
“Thank you for warning me,” she said. “I will try to be more am—more friendly to Miss Bailey in future.”
But unfortunately the mischief was already done.
“Mrs Shepton,” Philippa began again, after a moment’s pause, lifting her head impulsively, “Mrs Shepton, I know what you are thinking—that I might tell you more about myself, and I cannot tell you how much I wish I could. But there are reasons which make it quite impossible—I can tell you one of them—it would displease my—Mrs Marmaduke, exceedingly, if I explained to you how I came to enter her service.”
“Say no more, my dear,” interposed the housekeeper, cordially. “Saying what you have shows your confidence in me, and that is enough. I have seen too much of life, and in my position one comes across stranger stories than you would believe, not to know that the most candid and straightforward people are sometimes forced, by no fault of their own, into positions where they can’t be outspoken.”
“Yes,” said Philippa, feeling rather guilty, though to the housekeeper her tone only sounded sad, “yes; that must be the case sometimes. I—honestly, I may say for myself that I am naturally very frank. I would give anything at the present moment, dear Mrs Shepton, to tell you all about myself and my friends.” She raised her charming eyes to the kind woman’s face—charming they were, and not only so in respect of their undeniable beauty, but also, and in perhaps still greater measure, from their candid and true expression. And in spite of the intervening spectacles, Mrs Shepton read them aright.
“I will not distrust her in any way,” she thought, “whether I ever come to understand her or not.—There is just one thing I should like to say,” she began again, after a little pause, “something I should like you to promise me—if you are in any trouble or difficulty while you are here, something, perhaps, that you would not like to worry your lady about, don’t be afraid of telling me. I will give you the best advice I can.”
“Thank you,” said Philippa, heartily. “I will certainly promise you what you so kindly ask, and I suppose it is possible, with my being so inexperienced, that I might make mistakes. But you don’t think, I hope,” she continued, with a touch of anxiety, “that Mrs Worthing’s maid has taken a dislike to me? I should not like to get anybody’s ill-will.”
That she had some reason for fear was evident, and it added to the housekeeper’s sympathy for her, little as she could understand it.
Her reply was not altogether reassuring; she was too honest to make it so.