mollie heatherford had thought no more of her brave act, by which, at the risk of her life, she had saved the child lucille from being trampled to death under the hoofs of the pawing horses.
the next morning she was greatly surprised to receive a letter from a gentleman—monsieur jules lamonti, by name—who said he was the grandfather of little lucille, and who, after expressing his gratitude in most heartfelt terms, requested permission to call upon her at her earliest convenience.
the missive was written in french, and evidently by a highly cultured gentleman, and mollie felt that it would only be courteous to grant the interview so earnestly solicited. she accordingly responded immediately, and named an hour of the following morning for monsieur lamonti to call, if the time should be convenient for him.
she was somewhat disappointed that he did not keep the appointment, but the next day, at the specified hour, a magnificent equipage, with coachman and footman in cream-colored liveries, dashed to the door and stopped.
presently an elderly gentleman, of apparently sixty years, with snow-white hair and beard, his somewhat bowed and attenuated form clad in the finest of garments, alighted. he was a trifle lame, and depended, in a measure, upon a cane which, mollie observed, had a massive gold head, curiously carved.
eliza answered his ring and admitted him to the small parlor, then took the visitor's card, bearing the name "m. jules lamonti," to her young mistress.
mollie did not keep her caller waiting, to make any change in her toilet, for she made it a point to be always neatly, if simply, clad; and, entering his presence with perfect composure, greeted him with a charming ease and grace of manner.
she saw at a glance that he was an aristocrat; but that did not disturb her in the least.
he bowed low before her as he responded to her greeting; then, in a voice that was tremulous from deep emotion, he observed in very fair english:
"mademoiselle heatherford has laid on me an obligation everlasting. ah! but my poor heart would have been broken if i the little one had lost."
mollie, realizing that it would be much easier for him to express himself in his own language, responded in purest of french, disclaiming all thought of obligation, and concluded by inquiring if little lucille had experienced any ill effects from her accident. the frenchman was delighted to find that his hostess could converse with him in his mother-tongue, and his face beamed with pleasure.
"you speak french, mademoiselle!" he exclaimed. "ah! that is delightful! now we will talk without any difficulty, for i mix your language so badly. no, lucille was not hurt. she is perfectly well, and as bright as the morning. but, mon dieu! i tremble when i think what might have been to-day but for you," he interposed, growing so white that mollie was startled. "it was very brave, mademoiselle heatherford—it was grand! they tell me you went straight in under that powerful, frightened brute to save my precious child. you are a heroine, mademoiselle, and now i have come to ask you what i shall do to prove my everlasting gratitude."
mollie flushed and smiled as he called her a "heroine." the word always thrilled her—as she once told her father. it was like a strain of music in her ears.
"please, monsieur, do not speak of any return for what was simply a humane act," she gently returned; "i am more than recompensed in knowing that your dear little grandchild escaped unhurt. and how is poor nannette to-day? she was greatly frightened and distressed, and i felt very sorry for her."
a frown darkened monsieur lamonti's face, and his eyes flashed with sudden anger at the mention of the bonne.
"nannette shall go away—i will not trust my beautiful one with her ever again," he said sternly. "ah! if she had been killed! mon dieu! i tell you i could not have survived; she is all i have, mademoiselle, the only child of my only daughter—ah! but i cannot talk of it," he concluded brokenly, and trembling visibly.
"but, monsieur, it is all over—she is safe, and let us rejoice that all is well," soothingly replied mollie. "and i am sure," she added confidently, "that nannette will be very careful in the future. this will be a lesson to her, and i would have far more confidence in her now than in a strange maid. she seemed like a good girl and very fond of the little one, while she bewailed her carelessness with sincere sorrow."
"there is truth in what you say," the gentleman returned, after a moment of thought. "nannette has been a good girl—she is faithful, as a rule, and lucille loves her. i shall consider what you have said, mademoiselle, and nannette will have cause to be grateful to you."
"thank you. i should feel sorry to have her lose her situation; at the same time i can understand your anxiety, and she should be required to promise to be very careful in the future."
mollie and her caller drifted to other subjects after that and chatted of many things—of europe in general, of paris in particular. monsieur lamonti was charmed with the beautiful girl, while she was no less delighted with his courtly manner, his culture and brilliant conversation, and was sincerely sorry when he arose to take his leave.
"adieu, mademoiselle," he said, holding out his slim, aristocratic hand; "it is a great pleasure to have met you—you know my country so well; you speak my language so beautifully; while, for yesterday, i shall always cherish you in most grateful remembrance. ah! but to me that is like sounding brass," he interposed, with a dissatisfied shrug of his shoulders and in a regretful tone. then, as his keen eyes swept the graceful figure in its simple cambric dress, he added: "is mademoiselle sure that i cannot serve her in any way?"
mollie glanced up quickly at him, as a thought suddenly flashed through her mind, and a bright flush suffused her face as she asked herself if she dare put the thought into words. there was something his expressive face, in the sincerity of his speech and his refinement and courtesy, that inspired her with confidence in him.
"monsieur, there is one way in which, possibly, you might aid me," she began, with some reluctance.
"name it, mademoiselle!—by all means name it!" monsieur lamonti eagerly interposed.
"to do that i shall have to open my heart to you a little," mollie continued, with a slight quiver of her sweet lips.
"ah! mademoiselle honors me," said the gentleman, with a grave and courteous bow.
"monsieur," the fair girl resumed, flushing again, but with her lovely eyes steadfastly gazing into his, for she had no false shame on account of her poverty, "i have recently been reduced to the necessity of supporting myself and my father, who is a hopeless invalid; but i am unable to obtain a position. if monsieur could assist me in this respect, i should be very grateful, for the need is urgent."
her companion regarded her with admiration. she looked like a young queen, in spite of her surroundings and the simplicity of her apparel. her face was grave and sweet, but strong with the noble purpose that animated her; her shining hair was like a coronet of gold above her brow, and she bore herself with a quiet dignity and air of self-respect that must have commanded the esteem of any one.
"and what is mademoiselle fitted for—what is the position which she would like best of all?" monsieur lamonti inquired.
"i hardly know," mollie thoughtfully returned. "i have a good education, and i could teach, if i could find an opening. as you perceive, i can speak french."
"mademoiselle's accent is perfect," interposed her listener.
"i am equally familiar with german," she resumed, with an appreciative smile at his compliment; "i studied in heidelberg two years, and there are some other branches which i think i may truthfully say i am competent to teach."
the man was silent for a moment or two after she ceased, evidently considering some thought which had suggested itself to him. then he broke forth with the characteristic impulse of his nationality:
"ah! to teach—it is a slave's life!" he said. "the nerves they cannot bear it, unless indeed mademoiselle has nerves of steel. i tell her what she shall do. i know exactly the position and it is for mademoiselle's acceptance if it meets her approval. she speaks french like the native of paris; would she take the place of a private secretary, to write four hours a day for a french gentleman?"
mollie's heart leaped with joy at such a prospect. it seemed very inviting, particularly the "four hours a day," which would leave her much time to be with her dear sick one. but was she competent? that was a question that seemed important, and for the moment she did not know what to say.
"mademoiselle hesitates, and she is quite right," said her companion, coming to the rescue. "i will explain: the gentleman's secretary was discharged three days ago for betraying the affairs of his employer, who not yet has been able to find another to take his place, and the correspondence is piling up with every mail. it is important that the letters should be answered. mademoiselle speaks and writes german also? good! there will be german correspondence, too. the remuneration has been four hundred and fifty francs—or ninety dollars of american money—monthly. will mademoiselle consider the offer?" he concluded with some eagerness.
"it is certainly very tempting," mollie smilingly replied, and with rapidly beating pulses, "and i should not hesitate an instant if——"
"well?"
"if i was sure i could fill the position acceptably and the gentleman is willing to substitute a woman for the clerk who has hitherto served him."
"the latter doubt is easily dispelled, mademoiselle, since i myself am the anxious seeker for a trustworthy secretary. regarding the ability, a few days' trial will settle that point, and the requirements are perfect and fluent french and german, and fidelity to the employer's interests. i shall be pleased if mademoiselle will come for a week and try."
"monsieur lamonti, i will, and i thank you more than i can express; for this offer is very opportune, i assure you," said mollie, her lips trembling in spite of her efforts at self-control. "i will gladly make the trial, and i will certainly do my best to please you in every way."
"and when will mademoiselle oblige me by beginning her duties?" queried monsieur lamonti.
"i am sure, from what you have said, that i am needed at once, and i will come to-morrow at any hour which you may choose to name," mollie replied.
"and that is considerate," returned the gentleman in a gratified tone. "then at nine, if that will not inconvenience mademoiselle, and the address she will find here."
he drew a card-case from his pocket and presented her a card which had his business address upon it. then bidding her a courteous "au revoir," he bowed himself out with as much ceremony as if he were leaving a drawing-room, and a moment later his elegant equipage was rolling rapidly down the street, while mollie still stood in the middle of the room, wondering if the interview had not been all a dream.
she could scarcely credit the evidence of her senses. ninety dollars a month! it seemed too good to be true, and like a smile from fortune to her, when, of late, she had been so anxiously counting even her pennies. a great burden rolled from her heart and a luminous smile illumed her face, although there were tears in her eyes.
"at last," she murmured, "i am to know what it means to be of some practical use in the world, and i will do my very best."
