About two months afterwards, Mabel and I went down to Alversthorpe on a visit, and as we sat at dinner on the evening of our arrival, Fraulein Steinbock, the new German governess, entered to speak with her mistress.
For a moment she stood behind the widow’s chair, glancing furtively at me. It was very remarkable. Although her features bore not the slightest resemblance to any I had ever seen before, they seemed somehow familiar. It was not the expression of tenderness and purity of soul that entranced me, but there was something strange about the forehead. The dark hair in front had accidentally been parted, disclosing what appeared to be a portion of a dark ugly scar!
Chancing to glance at Mabel, I was amazed to notice that she had dropped her knife and fork, and was sitting pale and haggard, with her eyes fixed upon the wall opposite.
Her lips were moving slightly, but no sound came from them.
When, on the following morning, I was chatting with the widow alone, I carelessly inquired about the new governess.
“She was called away suddenly last night. Her brother is dying,” she said.
“Called away!” I echoed. “Where has she gone?”
“To London. I do hope she won’t be long away, for I really can’t do without her. She is so kind and attentive to the children.”
“Do you know her brother’s address?”
She shook her head. Then I asked for some particulars about her, but discovered that nothing was known of her past. She was an excellent governess—that was all.