With her hand on the door, Fanny Mere closed it again, and came back.
"I am not so ungrateful," she said, "as to have any secrets from You. It's hard to confess what may lower me in your good opinion, but it must be done. I have deceived your ladyship—and I am ashamed of it. I have deceived the doctor—and I glory in it. My master and Mr. Vimpany thought they were safe in speaking French, while I was waiting on them. I know French as well as they do."
Iris could hardly believe what she heard. "Do you really mean what you say?" she asked.
"There's that much good in me," Fanny replied; "I always mean what I say."
"Why did you deceive me? Why have you been acting the part of an ignorant woman?"
"The deceit has been useful in your service," the obstinate maid declared. "Perhaps it may be useful again."
"Was that what you were thinking of," Iris said, "when you allowed me to translate English into French for you, and never told me the truth?"
"At any rate, I will tell you the truth, now. No: I was not thinking of you, when you wrote my errands for me in French—I was thinking again of some advice that was once given to me."
"Was it advice given by a friend?"
"Given by a man, my lady, who was the worst enemy I have ever had."