a single drop of
lavender fall in my bosom, and tripped down stairs toward the
drawing-room; Betts Shoreham and Mademoiselle Hennequin were together,
and, for a novelty, alone. I say, for a novelty, because the governess
had few opportunities to see any one without the presence of a third
person, and because her habits, as an unmarried and well educated
French woman, indisposed her to tete-a-tetes with the other sex. My
mistress was lynx-eyed in all that related to Betts Shoreham and the
governess. A single glance told her that their recent conversation had
been more than usually interesting; nor could I help seeing it
myself--the face of the governess being red, or in that condition
which, were she aught but a governess, would be called suffused with
blushes. Julia felt uncomfortable--she felt herself to be de trop; and
making an incoherent excuse, she had scarcely taken a seat on a sofa,
before she arose, left the room, and ran up stairs again. In doing so,
however, the poor girl left me inadvertently on the sofa she had so
suddenly quitted herself.

{de trop = one too many}

Betts Shoreham manifested no concern at this movement, though
Mademoiselle Hennequin precipitately changed her seat, which had been
quite near--approximately near, as one might say--to the chair occupied
by the gentleman. This new evolution placed the governess close at my
side. Now whatever might have been the subject of discourse between
these two young persons--for Mademoiselle Hennequin was quite as
youthful as my mistress, let her beauty be as it might--it was not
continued in my presence; on the contrary, the young lady turned her
eyes on me, instead of looking at her companion, and then she raised me
in her hand, and commenced a critical examination of my person.

"That is a very beautiful handkerchief, Mademoiselle Hennequin," said
Betts Shoreham, making the remark an excuse for following the young
lady to the sofa. "Had we heard of its existence, our remarks the other
night, on such a luxury, might have been more guarded."

No answer was given. The governess gazed on me intently, and tears
began to course down her cheeks, notwithstanding it was evident she
wished to conceal them. Ashamed of her weakness, she endeavored to
smile them away, and to appear cheerful.

"What is there in that pocket-handkerchief, dear Mademoiselle
Hennequin," asked Betts Shoreham, who had a pernicious habit of calling
young ladies with whom he was on ter