There was an interval of silence between the two ladies.
Mrs. Gallilee waited for Miss Minerva to speak next. Miss Minerva waited
to be taken into Mrs. Gallilee’s confidence. The sparrows twittered
in the garden; and, far away in the schoolroom, the notes of the piano
announced that the music lesson had begun.
“The birds are noisy,” said Mrs. Gallilee.
“And the piano sounds out of tune,” Miss Minerva remarked.
There was no help for it. Either Mrs. Gallilee must return to the matter
in hand---or the matter in hand must drop.
“I am afraid I have not made myself understood,” she resumed.
“I am afraid I have been very stupid,” Miss Minerva confessed.
Resigning herself to circumstances, Mrs. Gallilee put the adjourned
question under a new form. “We were speaking of Mr. Le Frank as a
teacher, and of my niece as a pupil,” she said. “Have you been able to
form any opinion of Carmina’s musical abilities?”
Miss Minerva remained as prudent as ever. She answered, “I have had no
opportunity of forming an opinion.”
Mrs. Gallilee met this cautious reply by playing her trump card. She
handed a letter to Miss Minerva. “I have received a proposal from Mr. Le
Frank,” she said. “Will you tell me what you think of it?”
The letter was short and servile. Mr. Le Frank presented his best
respects. If Mrs. Gallilee’s charming niece stood in need of musical
instruction, he ventured to hope that he might have the honour and
happiness of superintending her studies. Looking back to the top of the
letter, the governess discovered that this modest request bore a date of
eight days since. “Have you written to Mr. Le Frank?” she asked.
“Only to say that I will take his request into consideration,” Mrs.
Gallilee replied.
Had she waited for her son’s departure, before she committed herself
to a decision? On the chance that this might be the case, Miss Minerva
consulted her memory. When Mrs. Gallilee first decided on engaging a
music-master to teach the children, her son had disapproved of employing
Mr. Le Frank. This circumstance might possibly be worth bearing in mind.
“Do you see any objection to accepting Mr. Le Frank’s proposal?” Mrs.
Gallilee asked. Miss Minerva saw an objection forthwith, and, thanks
to her effort of memory, discovered an especially mischievous way of
stating it. “I feel a certain delicacy in offering an opinion,” she said
modestly.
Mrs. Gallilee was surprised. “Do you allude to Mr. Le Frank?” she
inquired.
“No. I don’t doubt that his instructions would be of service to any
young lady.”
“Are you thinking of my niece?”
“No, Mrs. Gallilee. I am thinking of your son.”
“In what way, if you please?”
“In this way. I believe your son would object to employing Mr. Le Frank
as Miss Carmina’s teacher.”
“On musical grounds?”
“No; on personal grounds.”
“What do you mean?”
Miss Minerva explained her meaning. “I think you have forgotten what
happened, when you first employed Mr. Le Frank to teach Maria and Zoe.
His personal appearance produced an unfavourable impression on your son;
and Mr. Ovid made certain inquiries which you had not thought necessary.
Pardon me if I persist in mentioning the circumstances. I owe it to
myself to justify my opinion--an opinion, you will please to remember,
that I did not volunteer. Mr. Ovid’s investigations brought to light a
very unpleasant report, relating to Mr. Le Frank and a young lady who
had been one of his pupils.”
“An abominable slander, Miss Minerva! I am surprised that you should
refer to it.”
“I am referring, madam, to the view of the matter taken by Mr. Ovid.
If Mr. Le Frank had failed to defend himself successfully, he would of
course not have been received into this house. But your son had his own
opinion of the defence. I was present at the time, and I heard him say
that, if Maria and Zoe had been older, he should have advised employing
a music-master who had no false reports against him to contradict. As
they were only children, he would say nothing more. That is what I had
in my mind, when I gave my opinion. I think Mr. Ovid will be annoyed
when he hears that Mr. Le Frank is his cousin’s music-master. And, if
any foolish gossip reaches him in his absence, I fear it might lead to
mischievous results--I mean, to misunderstandings not easily set right
by correspondence, and quite likely therefore to lead, in the end, to
distrust and jealousy.”
There she paused, and crossed her hands on her lap, and waited for what
was to come next.
If Mrs. Gallilee could have looked into her mind at that moment as well
as into her face, she would have read Miss Minerva’s thoughts in these
plain terms: “All this time, madam, you have been keeping up appearances
in the face of detection. You are going to use Mr. Le Frank as a means
of making mischief between Ovid and Carmina. If you had taken me into
your confidence, I might have been willing to help you. As it is, please
observe that I am not caught in the trap you have set for me. If
Mr. Ovid discovers your little plot, you can’t lay the blame on your
governess’s advice.”
Mrs. Gallilee felt that she had again measured herself with Miss
Minerva, and had again been beaten. She had confidently reckoned on
the governess’s secret feeling towards her son to encourage, without
hesitation or distrust, any project for promoting the estrangement of
Ovid and Carmina. There was no alternative now but to put her first
obstacle in the way of the marriage, on her own sole responsibility.
“I don’t doubt that you have spoken sincerely,” she said; “but you have
failed to do justice to my son’s good sense; and you are--naturally
enough, in your position--incapable of estimating his devoted attachment
to Carmina.” Having planted that sting, she paused to observe the
effect. Not the slightest visible result rewarded her. She went on.
“Almost the last words he said to me expressed his confidence--his
affectionate confidence--in my niece. The bare idea of his being jealous
of anybody, and especially of such a person as Mr. Le Frank, is simply
ridiculous. I am astonished that you don’t see it in that light.”
“I should see it in that light as plainly as you do,” Miss Minerva
quietly replied, “if Mr. Ovid was at home.”
“What difference does that make?”
“Excuse me--it makes a great difference, as I think. He has gone away on
a long journey, and gone away in bad health. He will have his hours
of depression. At such times, trifles are serious things; and even
well-meant words--in letters--are sometimes misunderstood. I can offer
no better apology for what I have said; and I can only regret that I
have made so unsatisfactory a return for your flattering confidence in
me.”
Having planted _her_ sting, she rose to retire.
“Have you any further commands for me?” she asked.
“I should like to be quite sure that I have not misunderstood you,” said
Mrs. Gallilee. “You consider Mr. Le Frank to be competent, as director
of any young lady’s musical studies? Thank you. On the one point on
which I wished to consult you, my mind is at ease. Do you know where
Carmina is?”
“In her room, I believe.”
“Will you have the goodness to send her here?”
“With the greatest pleasure. Good-evening!”
So ended Mrs. Gallilee’s first attempt to make use of Miss Minerva,
without trusting her.