“If you will allow me to interfere a little, my lady,” replied I, “I think you can have them as well made at home as by Madame Desbelli. I think I can be useful.”

  “You are very kind, Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf, but it will be taxing you too much.”

  “Not at all, Lady M — , if I have your sanction.”

  “You shall do just as you please, my dear,” replied Lady M — ; “I give you full authority over the whole household, if you wish it; but indeed I think Benson will be much obliged to you for any slight hint that you may give her, and I am sure that I shall; but the carriage is at the door — do you drive to-day?”

  “Not to-day, I thank you, Lady M — ,” replied I.

  “Well, then, I will take Hortense and Amy with me, and leave Augusta with you.”

  After Lady M— ‘s departure, I went up to the room where the maids were at work. I altered the arrangement of Augusta’s dress so as to suit her figure, and cut out the two others for Hortense and Amy. Wishing to please Lady M — , I worked myself at Augusta’s dress, and had it completed before Lady M — had returned from her drive. It certainly was now a very different affair, and Augusta looked remarkably well in it. She was delighted herself, and hastened down to her mother to show it to her. When I came down to dinner, Lady M — was profuse in her acknowledgments; the two other dresses, when finished, gave equal satisfaction, and from that time till the period of my quitting Lady M — , all the dresses, not only of the young ladies, but those of Lady M — , were made at home, and my taste and judgment invariably appealed to and most cheerfully given. I felt it my duty to be of all the use that I could be, and perhaps was not a little gratified by the compliments I received upon my exquisite taste. Time passed on; during the shooting season, Augusta, the eldest daughter, received a very good offer, which was accepted; and at the Christmas festivities, Hortense, the second girl, accepted another proposal, which was also very favourable. Lady M — was delighted at such success.

  “Is it not strange, my dear Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf, that I have been fagging two seasons, night and day, to get husbands for those girls, and now alone here, in solitude and retirement almost, they have both obtained excellent establishments. I do really declare that I believe it is all owing to you, and the delightful manner in which you have dressed them.”

  “I should rather think that it is owing, in the first place, to their having so much improved in personal appearance since they have been down in the country,” replied I; “and further, to the gentlemen having now an opportunity of discovering their truly estimable qualities, which they were not likely to do at Almack’s or other parties during a London season.”

  “You may think so,” replied Lady M — , “but it is my conviction that all is owing to their being so tastefully-dressed. Why every one admires the elegance of their costume, and requests patterns. Well, now I have only Amy on my hands, and I think that her sister’s high connections will assist in getting her off.”

  “She is a sweet girl, Amy,” replied I, “and were I you Lady M — , I should be in no hurry to part with her.”

  “Indeed, but I am,” replied Lady M — , “you don’t know the expense of girls, and my jointure is not so very large; however, I must not complain. Don’t you think Amy looks better in lilac than any other colour?”

  “She looks well in almost any colour,” replied I.

  “Yes, with your taste, I grant,” replied Lady M — . “Are you aware that we go to town in a fortnight? We must look after the trousseaux. It was arranged last night that both marriages shall take place in February. Amy will, of course be one of the brides’-maids, and I trust to you, my dear Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf, to invent something very distingué for her on that occasion. Who knows but that it may get her off? but it’s late, so good-night.”

  I could not admire Lady M— ‘s apparent hurry to get rid of her daughters, but it certainly was the one thing needful which had occupied all her thoughts and attention during the time that I had been with her. That it was natural she should wish that her children were well established, I granted, but all that she appeared to consider was good connection, and the means of living in good style, every other point as to the character of the husbands being totally overlooked.

  A fortnight after Christmas we all went to London, and were, as Lady M — had observed, very busy with the trousseaux, when one day the butler came to say that a young gentleman wished to see me, and was waiting in the breakfast parlour below. I went down, wondering who it could be, when to my surprise, I found Lionel, the page of Lady R — , dressed in plain clothes, and certainly looking very much like a gentleman. He bowed very respectfully to me when he entered, much more so than he had ever done when he was a page with Lady R — , and said, “Miss Valerie, I have ventured to call upon you, as I thought when we parted, that you did me the honour to feel some little interest about me, and I thought you would like to know what has taken place. I have been in England now four months, and have not been idle during that time.”

  “I am certainly glad to see you, Lionel, although I am sorry you have left Lady R — , and I hope you have been satisfied with the result of your inquiries.”

  “It is rather a long story, Miss Valerie, and, if you wish to hear it, you will oblige me by sitting down while I narrate it to you.”

  “I hope it will not be too long, Lionel, as I shall be wanted in an hour or so, to go out with Lady M — , but I am ready to hear you,” continued I, sitting down as he requested.

  Lionel stood by me, and then commenced— “We arrived at Dover the evening of the day that we left, Miss Valerie; and Lady R — , who had been in a state of great agitation during the journey, was so unwell, that she remained there four or five days. As soon as she was better, I thought it was advisable that she should settle my book, and pay me my wages before we left England, and I brought it to her, stating my wish, as the sum was then very large.

  “‘And what do you want money for?’ said she, rather angrily.

  “‘I want to place it in safety, my lady,’ replied I.

  “‘That’s as much as to say that it is not safe with me.’

  “‘No, my lady,’ replied I. ‘But suppose any accident were to happen to you abroad, would your executors ever believe that you owed more than 25 pounds, besides a year’s wages to a page like me; they would say that it could not be, and would not pay me my money; neither would they believe that you gave me such wages.’

  “‘Well,’ she replied, ‘there is some truth in that, and it will, perhaps, be better that I do pay you at once, but where will you put the money, Lionel?’

  “‘I will keep the check, my lady, if you please.’

  “‘Then I will write it to order and not to bearer,’ replied she, ‘and then if you lose it, it will not be paid, for it will require your own signature.’

  “‘Thank you, my lady,’ replied I.

  “Having examined my accounts and my wages due, she gave me a check for the full amount. The next morning, the packet was to sail at nine o’clock. We were in good time, and as soon as Lady R — was on board she went down into the cabin. Her maid asked me for the bottle of salts which I had purposely left under the sofa pillow at the Ship Hotel. I told her that I had left it, and as there was plenty of time would run and fetch it. I did so, but contrived not to be back until the steamer had moved away from the pier, and her paddles were in motion. I called out ‘Stop, stop,’ knowing of course that they would not, although they were not twenty yards away. I saw Lady R— ‘s maid run to the captain and speak to him, but it was of no use, and thus I was left behind, without Lady R — having any suspicion that it was intentional on my part.

  “I waited at the pier till the packet was about two miles off, and then walked away from the crowd of people who were bothering me with advice how to proceed, so that I might join my mistress at Calais. I returned to the hotel for a portion of my clothes which I had not sent on board of the packet, but had left in charge of the boots, and then sat down in the tap to reflect upon what I should do. My first object was to get rid of my sugar-loaf buttons, for I hated livery, Miss Valerie; perhaps it was pride, but I could not help it. I walked out till I came to a slop-seller’s, as they call them at seaports, and went in; there was nothing hanging up but seamen’s clothes, and on reflection, I thought I could not do better than to dress as a sailor; so I told the man that I wanted a suit of sailor’s clothes.

  “‘You want to go to sea, I suppose,’ said the man, not guessing exactly right, considering that I just refused to embark.

  “However, I bargained first for a complete suit, and then sold him my liveries, exchanging my dress in the back parlour. I then returned to the tap, obtained my other clothes, and as soon as the coach started, got outside and arrived in London. I called upon you at this house, and found that you were in the country, and then I resolved that I would go down to Culverwood Hall.”

  “And now you must leave off, Lionel, for the present,” said I, “for I must go out with Lady M — . Come to-morrow, early, and I shall have leisure to hear the rest of your story.”

  The following morning Lionel returned and resumed his history.

  “Miss Valerie, little things often give you more trouble than greater; and I had more difficulty to find out where Culverwood Hall was than you may imagine. I asked many at the inn where I put up, but no one could tell me, and at such places I was not likely to find any book which I could refer to. I went to the coach offices and asked what coaches started for Essex, and the reply was, ‘Where did I want to go?’ and, when I said Culverwood Hall, no one could tell me by which coach I was to go, or which town it was near. At last, I did find out from the porter of the Saracen’s Head, who had taken in parcels with that address, and who went to the coachman, who said that his coach passed within a mile of Sir Alexander Moystyn’s, who lived there. I never knew her ladyship’s maiden name before. I took my place by the coach, for I had gone to the banker’s in Fleet Street, and received the money for my check, and started the next morning at three o’clock.

  “I was put down at a village called Westgate, at an inn called the Moystyn Arms. I kept to the dress of a sailor, and when the people spoke to me on the coach, kept up the character as well as I could, which is very easy to do when you have to do with people who know nothing about it. I shivered my timbers, and all that sort of thing, and hitched up my trousers, as they do at the theatres. The coachman told me that the inn was the nearest place I could stop at, if I wanted to go to the hall, and taking my bundle, I got down and he drove off. A sailor-boy is a sort of curiosity in a country village, Miss Valerie, and I had many questions put to me, but I answered them by putting others. I said that my friends were formerly living at the hall in the old baronet’s time, but that I knew little about them, as it was a long while ago; and I asked if there were any of the old servants still living at the place. The woman who kept the inn told me that there was one, Old Roberts, who still lived in the village, and been bedridden for some years. This of course was the person I wanted, and I inquired what had become of his family. The reply was, that his daughter, who had married Green, was somewhere in London, and his son, who had married Kitty Wilson of the village, had gone to reside as gamekeeper somewhere near Portsmouth, and had a large family of children.

  “‘You’re right enough,’ replied I, laughing, ‘we are a large family.’

  “‘What, are you old Roberts’ grandson?’ exclaimed the woman. ‘Well, we did hear that one of them, Harry, I think, did go to sea.’

  “‘Well, now, perhaps you’ll tell me where I am to find the old gentleman?’ replied I.

  “‘Come with me,’ said she, ‘he lives hard-by, and glad enough he’ll be, poor man, to have any one to talk with him a bit, for it’s a lonesome life he leads in bed there.’

  “I followed the woman, and when about a hundred yards from the inn, she stopped at the door of a small house, and called to Mrs Meshin, to ‘go up and tell old Roberts that one of his grandsons is here.’ A snuffy old woman made her appearance, peered at me through her spectacles, and then stumped up a pair of stairs which faced the door. Shortly afterwards I was desired to come up, and did so. I found an old man with silver hair lying in bed, and the said Mrs Meshin, with her spectacles, smoothing down the bed-clothes, and making the place tidy.

  “‘What cheer, old boy?’ said I, after T.P. Cooke’s style.

  “‘What do you say? I’m hard of hearing, rather,’ replied the old man.

  “‘How do you find yourself, sir?’ said I.

  “‘Oh, pretty well for an old man; and so you’re my grandson, Harry; glad to see you. — You may go, Mrs Meshin, and shut the door, and do you hear, don’t listen at the key-hole.’

  “The stately lady, Mrs Meshin, growled, and then left the room, slamming the door.

  “‘She is very cross, grandson,’ said the old man, ‘and I see nobody but her. It’s a sad thing to be bedridden this way, and not to get out in the fresh air, and sadder still to be tended by a cross old woman, who won’t talk when I want her, and won’t hold her tongue when I want her. I’m glad to see you, boy. I hope you won’t go away directly, as your brother Tom did. I want somebody to talk to me, sadly; and how do you like being at sea?’

  “‘I like the shore, better, sir.’

  “‘Ay, so all sailors say, I believe; and yet I would rather go to sea than lie here all day long. It’s all owing to my being out as I used to do, night after night, watching for poachers. I had too little bed then, and now I’ve too much of it. But the sea must be grand. As the Bible says, “They who go upon the great waters, they see the wonders of the deep.”’

  “I was glad to find that the old man was so perfect in all his mental faculties, and after having listened to, rather than replied to, observations about his son and my supposed brothers and sisters, by which I obtained a pretty accurate knowledge of them, I wished him good-bye, and promised to call and have a long talk in the morning.

  “On my return to the inn, I was able to reply to all the interrogatories which were put to me relative to my supposed relations, thanks to the garrulity of old Roberts, and put many questions relative to the family residing at the hall, which were freely answered. As the evening advanced, many people came in, and the noise and smoking were so disagreeable to me, that I asked for a bed, and retired. The next morning I repaired to old Roberts, who appeared delighted to see me.

  “‘You are a good boy,’ said he, ‘to come and see a poor bedridden old man, who has not a soul that comes near him perhaps in a week. And now tell me what took place during your last voyage.’

  “‘The last vessel I was on board of,’ replied I, ‘was a packet from Dover to Calais.’

  “‘Well, that must be pleasant; so many passengers.’

  “‘Yes, sir; and who do you think I saw on board of the packet the other day — somebody that you know.’

  “‘Ay, who?’

  “‘Why Lady R — ,’ replied I, ‘and that young gentleman who, I heard say, once lived with her as her servant.’

  “‘Ay!’ said the old man, ‘indeed! then she has done justice at last. I’m glad on it, Harry, glad on it, for it’s a relief to my mind. I was bound to the secret, and have kept it; but when a man is on the brink of the grave, he does not like to have a secret like that upon his mind, and I’ve more than once talked to my daughter about—’

  “‘What, aunt Green?’

  “‘Yes, your aunt Green; but she would never listen to me. We both took our oath, and she said it was binding; besides, we were paid for it. Well, well, I thank God, for it’s a great load off my mind.’

  “‘Yes, sir,’ replied I, ‘you need not keep the secret any longer now.’

  “‘And how has he grown up?’ said the old man; ‘is he good-looking?’

  “‘Very much so, sir,’ replied I, ‘and looks very much like a gentleman.’”

  I could not help laughing at this part of Lionel’s story, although I could not but admit the truth. Lionel observed it, and said, “You cannot be surprised at my giving myself a good character, Miss Valerie, for, as they say in the kitchen, it’s all that a poor servant has to depend upon.”

  “Go on,” replied I.

  “‘He was a very fine child while he lived with us; but he was taken away at six years old, and I have never seen him since.’

  “‘Some people say that he is very like Lady R — .’

  “‘Well, why should he not be? ay, she was once a very beautiful young person.’

  “‘Well, grandfather, I have never heard the rights of that story,’ said I, ‘and now that you are at liberty to tell it, perhaps you will let me have the whole history.’

  “‘Well,’ said the old man, ‘as there is no longer a secret, I do not know but that I may. Your aunt Green, you know, was nurse to Lady R — , and remained in the family for years afterwards; for old Sir Alexander Moystyn was confined to his room for years with gout and other complaints, and your aunt Green attended him. It was just as Sir Alexander had recovered from a very bad fit, that Miss Ellen, who was Lady R— ‘s sister, and years younger than she was, made her runaway match with Colonel Dempster, a very fashionable, gay young man, who had come down here to shoot with the present baronet. Everyone was much surprised at this, for all the talk was that the match would be with the eldest sister, Lady R — , and not the youngest. They went off somewhere abroad. Old Sir Alexander was in a terrible huff about it, and was taken ill again; and Lady R — , who was then Miss Barbara, appeared also much distressed at her sister’s conduct. Well, a year or more passed away, when, one day, Miss Barbara told your aunt Green that she wished her to go with her on a journey, and she set off in the evening with four post-horses, and travelled all night till she arrived at Southampton. There she stopped at a lodging, and got out, spoke to the landlady, and calling my daughter out of the chaise, desired her to remain below while she went upstairs. My daughter was tired of staying so long, for she remained there for five hours, and Miss Barbara did not make her appearance, but they appeared to be very busy in the house, running up and downstairs. At last a grave person, who appeared to be a doctor, came into the parlour, followed by the landlady — in the parlour in which my daughter was sitting.’