author - "Mary Elizabeth Braddon"
ng-girl at a public-house in Shadwell. Never beforehad Valentine Jernam looked on so fair a woman. He had never been astudent or admirer of the weaker sex. He had a vague kind of idea thatthere were women, and mermaids, and other dangerous creatures, lurkingsomewhere in this world, for the destruction of honest men; but beyondthis he had very few ideas on the subject.
Other people were taking very little notice of the singer. The regularpatrons of the 'Jolly Tar' were accustomed to her beauty and hersinging, and thought very little about her. The girl was very quiet,very modest. She came and went under the care of the old blind pianist,whom she called her grandfather, and she seemed to shrink alike fromobservation or admiration.
She began to sing again presently.
She stood by the piano, facing the audience, calm as a statue, with herlarge black eyes looking straight before her. The old man listened toher eagerly, as he played, and nodded fond approval every now and then,as the full, rich
r yourself a remarkably lucky girl?"
The governess lifted her head from its stooping attitude, and staredwonderingly at her employer, shaking back a shower of curls. They werethe most wonderful curls in the world--soft and feathery, alwaysfloating away from her face, and making a pale halo round her head whenthe sunlight shone through them.
"What do you mean, my dear Mrs. Dawson?" she asked, dipping hercamel's-hair brush into the wet aquamarine upon the palette, and poisingit carefully before putting in the delicate streak of purple which wasto brighten the horizon in her pupil's sketch.
"Why, I mean, my dear, that it only rests with yourself to become LadyAudley, and the mistress of Audley Court."
Lucy Graham dropped the brush upon the picture, and flushed scarlet tothe roots of her fair hair; and then grew pale again, far paler thanMrs. Dawson had ever seen her before.
"My dear, don't agitate yourself," said the surgeon's wife, soothingly;"you know that nobody asks you to marry Sir
ng-girl at a public-house in Shadwell. Never beforehad Valentine Jernam looked on so fair a woman. He had never been astudent or admirer of the weaker sex. He had a vague kind of idea thatthere were women, and mermaids, and other dangerous creatures, lurkingsomewhere in this world, for the destruction of honest men; but beyondthis he had very few ideas on the subject.
Other people were taking very little notice of the singer. The regularpatrons of the 'Jolly Tar' were accustomed to her beauty and hersinging, and thought very little about her. The girl was very quiet,very modest. She came and went under the care of the old blind pianist,whom she called her grandfather, and she seemed to shrink alike fromobservation or admiration.
She began to sing again presently.
She stood by the piano, facing the audience, calm as a statue, with herlarge black eyes looking straight before her. The old man listened toher eagerly, as he played, and nodded fond approval every now and then,as the full, rich
r yourself a remarkably lucky girl?"
The governess lifted her head from its stooping attitude, and staredwonderingly at her employer, shaking back a shower of curls. They werethe most wonderful curls in the world--soft and feathery, alwaysfloating away from her face, and making a pale halo round her head whenthe sunlight shone through them.
"What do you mean, my dear Mrs. Dawson?" she asked, dipping hercamel's-hair brush into the wet aquamarine upon the palette, and poisingit carefully before putting in the delicate streak of purple which wasto brighten the horizon in her pupil's sketch.
"Why, I mean, my dear, that it only rests with yourself to become LadyAudley, and the mistress of Audley Court."
Lucy Graham dropped the brush upon the picture, and flushed scarlet tothe roots of her fair hair; and then grew pale again, far paler thanMrs. Dawson had ever seen her before.
"My dear, don't agitate yourself," said the surgeon's wife, soothingly;"you know that nobody asks you to marry Sir