The thanksgiving was still in her heart when she heard a ring at the hall bell, and remembered, with sudden compunction, that this was Miss Bennett’s hour, and that she had to speak to her about the very painful matter which occurred yesterday.

She had quite forgotten it till this minute, as was not surprising.  Now, with an effort, she threw off all thoughts about herself; this business was far more important, and might involve most serious consequences to the young governess if obliged to be dismissed under circumstances which, unless Miss Gascoigne’s tongue could be stopped, would soon be parroted about to every lady in Avonsbridge.

“Poor girl!” thought Christian, “she may never get another situation.  And yet perhaps she has done nothing actually wrong, no worse wrong than many do—­than I did!”—­she sighed—­“in letting myself be made love to, and believing it all true, and sweet, and sacred, when it was all—­But that is over now.  And perhaps she has no friends any more than I had—­ no home to cling to, no mother to comfort her.  Poor thing!  I must be very tender over her—­very careful what I say to her.”

And following this intention, instead of sending for Miss Bennett into the dining-room, as Miss Gascoigne probably expected, for she sat in great state, determined to “come to the root of the matter,” as she expressed it, Mrs. Grey went out and met her in the hall.

“You are the lady whom my sister-in-law engaged as governess?”

“Yes, ma’am.  And you are Mrs. Grey?” peering at her with some curiosity; for, as every body knew every thing in Avonsbridge, no doubt Miss Bennett was perfectly well aware that Dr. Grey’s young wife was the ci-devant governess at Mr. Ferguson’s.

“Will you walk up into my room?  I wanted a word with you before lessons.”

“Certainly, Mrs. Grey.  I hope you are quite satisfied with my instruction of Miss Grey.  Indeed, my recommendations—­as I told Miss Gascoigne—­include some of the very first families—­”

“I have no doubt Miss Gascoigne was satisfied,” interrupted Mrs. Grey, not quite liking the flippant manner, the showy style of dress, and the air, at once subservient and forward; in truth, something which, despite her prettiness, stamped the governess as underbred, exactly what Aunt Henrietta had said—­“not a lady.”

“Your qualifications for teaching I have no wish to investigate; what I have to speak about is a totally different thing.”

Miss Bennett looked uneasy for a minute, but Christian’s manner was so studiously polite, even kindly, that she seemed to think nothing could be seriously wrong.  She sat down composedly on the crimson sofa, and began investigating, with admiring, curious, and rather envious eyes, the handsome room, half boudoir, half bed-chamber.

“Oh, Mrs. Grey, what a nice room this is!  How you must enjoy it!  It’s a hard life, teaching children.”