“But you were in a large house.”
“I was at the Princess Czartoriski’s.”
“Of course. I suppose it was there that you met Lord Audley?”
“Yes.”
“Well, after that kind of life, I am afraid that the Gatehouse will have few charms for you. It is very remote, very lonely.”
She cut him short with impatience, the color rising to her face. “I thought you understood,” she said, “that I was in the Princess’s house as a governess? It was my business to take care of a number of children, to eat with them, to sleep with them, to see that they washed their hands and kept their hair clean. That was my position, Mr. Basset. I do not wish it to be misunderstood.”
“But if that were so,” he stammered, “how did you——”
“Meet Lord Audley,” she replied. “Very simply. Once or twice the Princess ordered me to descend to the salon to interpret. On one of these occasions Lord Audley saw me and learned—who I was.”
“Indeed,” he said. “I see.” Perhaps he had had it in his mind to test her and the truth of Audley’s letter, which nothing in her or in my lord’s conduct seemed to confirm. He did not know if this had been in his mind, but in any case the result silenced him. She was either very honest or very clever. Many girls, he knew, would have slurred over the facts, and not a few would have boasted of the Princess’s friendship and the Princess’s society, and the Princess’s hôtel, and brought up her name a dozen times a day.
She is very clever, he thought, or she is—good. But for the moment he steeled himself against the latter opinion.