She left us, as we then understood, to be married. We heard no
more of her until a week or ten days since, when my mother received a
letter, in which our ex-governess described herself as being in a
condition of great poverty and distress. After much hesitation she had
ventured--at the suggestion of a lady who had been kind to her--to write
to her former employers, and to appeal to their remembrance of old times.
You know my mother: she is not only the most kind-hearted, but the most
innocent of women--it is impossible to persuade her of the wickedness that
there is in the world. She replied by return of post, inviting the
governess to come here and see her, and inclosing the money for her
traveling expenses. When my father came home, and heard what had been
done, he wrote at once to his agent in London to make inquiries, inclosing
the address on the governess' letter. Before he could receive the agent's
reply the governess, arrived. She produced the worst possible impression
on his mind. The agent's letter, arriving a few days later, confirmed his
suspicions. Since we had lost sight of her, the woman had led a most
disreputable life. My father spoke to her privately: he offered--on
condition of her leaving the house--a sum of money to take her back to
England. If she refused, the alternative would be an appeal to the
authorities and a public scandal.
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