"Was it advice given by a friend?"
"Given by a man, my lady, who was the worst enemy I have ever had."
Her considerate mistress understood the allusion, and forbade her to
distress herself by saying more. But Fanny felt that atonement, as well
as explanation, was due to her benefactress. Slowly, painfully she
described the person to whom she had referred. He was a Frenchman, who
had been her music-master during the brief period at which she had
attended a school: he had promised her marriage; he had persuaded her
to elope with him. The little money that they had to live on was earned
by her needle, and by his wages as accompanist at a music-hall. While
she was still able to attract him, and to hope for the performance of
his promise, he amused himself by teaching her his own language. When
he deserted her, his letter of farewell contained, among other things
the advice to which she had alluded.
"In your station of life," this man had written, "knowledge of French
is still a rare accomplishment. Keep your knowledge to yourself.
English people of rank have a way of talking French to each other, when
they don't wish to be understood by their inferiors. In the course of
your career, you may surprise secrets which will prove to be a little
fortune, if you play your cards properly. Anyhow, it is the only
fortune I have to leave to you." Such had been the villain's parting
gift to the woman whom he had betrayed.
She had hated him too bitterly to be depraved by his advice.
On the contrary, when the kindness of a friend (now no longer in
England) had helped her to obtain her first employment as a domestic
servant, she had thought it might be to her interest to mention that
she could read, write, and speak French. The result proved to be not
only a disappointment, but a warning to her for the future. Such an
accomplishment as a knowledge of a foreign language possessed by an
Englishwoman, in her humble rank of life, was considered by her
mistress to justify suspicion. Questions were asked, which it was
impossible for her to answer truthfully. Small scandal drew its own
conclusions--her life with the other servants became unendurable--she
left her situation.
From that time, until the happy day when she met with Iris, concealment
of her knowledge of French became a proceeding forced on her by her own
poor interests. Her present mistress would undoubtedly have been taken
into her confidence, if the opportunity had offered itself. But Iris
had never encouraged her to speak of the one darkest scene in her life;
and for that reason, she had kept her own counsel until the date of her
mistress's marriage. Distrusting the husband, and the husband's
confidential friend--for were they not both men?--she had thought of
the vile Frenchman's advice, and had resolved to give it a trial; not
with the degrading motive which he had suggested, but with the vague
presentiment of making a discovery of wickedness, threatening mischief
under a French disguise, which might be of service to her benefactress
at some future time.