Mrs Ward was the matron or superintendent of a small “Home” for governesses. Ella had once in past years, when little more than a child, called at this institution with her aunt to inquire for a young girl temporarily there, in whom Mrs Robertson took an interest. Ella had been struck by Mrs Ward’s kindly, capable manner and sensible advice, and the whole incident had been recalled to her memory recently by Fräulein Braune speaking of this very institution as her usual head-quarters when in London. And to go there and apply for a situation as governess in France or Germany had been the girl’s idea.
The winter afternoon was fast closing in, it was dusk, almost dark when the cab containing Ella and her escort drew up at 29 Percival Terrace. As had been agreed between the two during their railway journey, Fräulein Braune got out first, leaving Ella alone to await the result of her interview with Mrs Ward. It had been raining, a cold sleety regular London winter rain. Ella shivered as she gazed out at the sloppy pavement, glistening in the light of an adjacent gas lamp.
“I had no idea London could look so dreary,” she thought. Then her fancy pictured the spacious comfortable library at Coombesthorpe as it must be looking at that moment—the fire burning brightly, throwing warm reflections on the crimson carpet and the dull rich bindings of the books, while Madelene made tea at the pretty table with its sparkling silver “equipage,” and Colonel St Quentin lay back in his chair talking to her as she did so.
“And,” went on Ella to herself, “very likely Sir Philip is there too, unless he has gone off to Ermine again. They are none of them troubling themselves about me—that’s plain. But it’s better so. I could not stand it—no I could not go back again.”
Just then the door of the house opened and Fräulein Braune came out. She smiled at Ella.
“It is all right,” she said. “Mrs Ward insists on my staying the night, though I had intended going back at once.”
“Oh no, no, that would never have done, dear Fräulein,” said Ella, as she sprang out.
Then the governess paid the cabman and they went in.
“What did Mrs Ward say?” asked Ella, when they were in the hall.
“She will tell you herself,” Fräulein Braune replied. “I—I thought it right to tell her your name, Ella.”