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“My dear madam, say no more,” said Mrs. Harcourt, holding out her hand: “you are a real friend.”

Mad. de Rosier now went to call Herbert, but on opening the door, Mrs. Grace fell forward upon her face into the room; she had been kneeling with her head close to the key-hole of the door; and, probably, the sound of her own name, and a few sentences now and then spoken in English, had so fixed her attention, that she did not prepare in time for her retreat.

“Get up, Grace, and walk in, if you please,” said Mrs. Harcourt, with much calmness; “we have not the least objection to your hearing our conversation.”

“Indeed, ma’am,” said Grace, as soon as she had recovered her feet, “I’m above listening to any body’s conversations, except that when one hears one’s own name, and knows that one has enemies, it is but natural to listen in one’s own defence.”

“And is that all you can do, Grace, in your own defence?” said Mrs. Harcourt.

“It’s not all I can say, ma’am,” replied Grace, pushed to extremities; and still with a secret hope that her mistress, upon a pinch, would not part with a favourite maid : “I see I’m of no further use in the family, neither to young or old–and new comers have put me quite out of favour, and have your ear to themselves–so, if you please, ma’am, I had better look out for another situation.”

“If you please, Grace,” said Mrs. Harcourt.

“I will leave the house this instant, if you think proper, ma’am.”

“If you think proper, Grace,” said her mistress, with immovable philosophy.

Grace burst into tears: “I never thought it would come to this, Mrs. Harcourt– I, that have lived so long such a favourite!–but I don’t blame you, madam; you have been the best and kindest of mistresses to me; and, whatever becomes of me, to my dying words, I shall always give you and the dear young ladies the best of characters.”

“The character we may give you, Grace, is of rather more consequence.”

“Every thing that I say and do,” interrupted the sobbing Grace, “is vilified and misinterpreted by those who wish me ill. I–“

“You have desired to leave me, Grace; and my desire is that you should leave me,” said Mrs. Harcourt, with firmness. “Mad. de Rosier and I strictly forbade you to interfere with any of the children in our absence; you have thought proper to disregard these orders; and were you to stay longer in my house, I perceive that you would teach my children first to disobey, and afterward to deceive me.”

Grace, little prepared for this calm decision, now in a frightened, humble tone, began to make promises of reformation; but her promises and apologies were vain; she was compelled to depart, and every body was glad to have done with her.

Favoretta, young as she was, had already learned from this cunning waiting-maid habits of deceit which could not be suddenly changed. Mad. de Rosier attempted her cure, by making her feel, in the first place, the inconveniences and the disgrace of not being trusted. Favoretta was ashamed to perceive that she was the only person in the house who was watched: and she was heartily glad when, by degrees, she had opportunities allowed her of obtaining a character for truth, and all the pleasures and all the advantages of confidence.

Things went on much better after the gnome-like influence of Mrs Grace had ceased; but we must now hasten to introduce our readers to Mrs. Fanshaw. Mrs. Fanshaw was a card-playing lady, who had been educated at a time when it was not thought necessary for women to have any knowledge, or any taste for literature. As she advanced in life, she continually recurred to the maxims as well as to the fashions of her youth; and the improvements in modern female education she treated as dangerous innovations. She had placed her daughter at a boarding-school in London, the expense of which was its chief recommendation; and she saw her regularly at the Christmas and Midsummer holidays. At length, when Miss Fanshaw was about sixteen, her prudent mother began to think that it was time to take her from school, and to introduce her into the world. Miss Fanshaw had learned to speak French passably, to read a little Italian, to draw a little, to play tolerably well upon the piano-forte, and to dance as well as many other young ladies. She had been sedulously taught a sovereign contempt of whatever was called vulgar at the school where she was educated; but, as she was profoundly ignorant of every thing but the routine of that school, she had no precise idea of propriety; she only knew what was thought vulgar or genteel at Suxberry House; and the authority of Mrs. Suxberry (for that was the name of her schoolmistress) she quoted as incontrovertible upon all occasions. Without reflecting upon what was wrong or right, she decided with pert vivacity on all subjects; and firmly believed that no one could know or could learn any thing who had not been educated precisely as she had been. She considered her mother as an inferior personage, destitute of genteel accomplishments: her mother considered her as a model of perfection, that could only have been rendered thus thoroughly accomplished by the most expensive masters –her only fear was, that her dear Jane should be rather too learned.