genteel client,
having satisfied the fat lady with a small fee, meanwhile, went away
accompanied by her friend.

As Nicholas opened his mouth, to request the young man to turn to letter
S, and let him know what secretaryships remained undisposed of, there
came into the office an applicant, in whose favour he immediately
retired, and whose appearance both surprised and interested him.

This was a young lady who could be scarcely eighteen, of very slight and
delicate figure, but exquisitely shaped, who, walking timidly up to the
desk, made an inquiry, in a very low tone of voice, relative to some
situation as governess, or companion to a lady. She raised her veil, for
an instant, while she preferred the inquiry, and disclosed a countenance
of most uncommon beauty, though shaded by a cloud of sadness, which, in
one so young, was doubly remarkable. Having received a card of reference
to some person on the books, she made the usual acknowledgment, and
glided away.

She was neatly, but very quietly attired; so much so, indeed, that it
seemed as though her dress, if it had been worn by one who imparted
fewer graces of her own to it, might have looked poor and shabby. Her
attendant--for she had one--was a red-faced, round-eyed, slovenly girl,
who, from a certain roughness about the bare arms that peeped from under
her draggled shawl, and the half-washed-out traces of smut and
blacklead which tattooed her countenance, was clearly of a kin with the
servants-of-all-work on the form: between whom and herself there had
passed various grins and glances, indicative of the freemasonry of the
craft.

This girl followed her mistress; and, before Nicholas had recovered from
the first effects of his surprise and admiration, the young lady was
gone. It is not a matter of such complete and utter improbability as
some sober people may think, that he would have followed them out,
had he not been restrained by what passed between the fat lady and her
book-keeper.

'When is she coming again, Tom?' asked the fat lady.

'Tomorrow morning,' replied Tom, mending his pen.

'Where have you sent her to?' asked the fat lady.

'Mrs Clark's,' replied Tom.

'She'll have a nice life of it, if she goes there,' observed the fat
lady, taking a pinch of snuff from a tin box.

Tom made no other reply than thrusting his tongue into his cheek,
and pointing the feather of his pen towards Nicholas--reminders which
elicited from the fat lady an inquiry,